Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Trinity
I’m fighting my urge to inhale, kicking my legs wildly in a futile fight. It’s dark. I claw at my scalp, trying to find the hands holding me beneath the water’s surface, but I can’t find them.
This is it. My chest burns, every impulse I have telling me this is the end of my life. A wave of panic seizes me. I reach out wildly, waving my arms in a desperate bid to make contact with anything.
My scream will be the end of me. It comes out silently, but I can still feel it deep inside.
“Trin?” Lincoln cries. “What the fuck is going on? Talk to me!”
I suck in a breath, my lungs filling with the oxygen I thought I’d never have access to again. I’m sitting up, my palms pressed to the mattress and my heart racing.
I’m in the cabin. It was the nightmare that has plagued me for years, and I must have actually screamed in real life and woken Lincoln up.
“I’m fine.” I’m breathless, the anguish still fresh in my mind.
“Is there someone in here?”
I can tell from his voice that he’s out of bed and close to the wall of weapons. That could go badly, so I force myself into a calmer state.
“I had a nightmare, Linc. I’m sorry I scared you.”
His exhale is heavy with relief. “Fuck. The way you screamed, I thought--”
“I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes, shame edging in to compete with my relief. Anxiety even follows me into sleep. Why am I like this? I just want to have normal dreams, like being able to fly.
“Hey.” Lincoln’s tone is soft, his voice closer to me now. “Nothing to be sorry for.”
He gets back into bed and pulls the covers over himself.
“You’re exhausted and I woke--” I stop talking as he pulls me into his arms, making sure my back stays covered by blankets.
“What was your nightmare about?” he asks.
I settle my cheek against his chest, his warm skin and strong embrace soothing me. He’s not even a little bit irritated. My college boyfriend wouldn’t stay the night with me because of my nightmares and the sleep they cost him.
“I was drowning.”
“Damn. I’ve never had that one. My most frequent nightmare is that I shoot a goal for the other team and it wins them the game.”
I smile, amused. “Where does that even come from?”
“Probably my unhealthy obsession with winning.”
I’ve never snuggled against a man with a body like his. My palm rests on his chest, where I can feel his heart beating. My knee rests against his thigh and I think about hooking it over his leg, quickly dismissing the idea.
Just this. This comforting embrace is more contact than I’ve had with a man in a very long time, and it feels good. I don’t want anything to ruin it.
“Where does the drowning nightmare come from?” he asks, his breath a warm caress on my forehead.
“Oh, um...I guess from my deep-seated anxiety?”
There’s a moment of silence before he speaks again. “Is that something you’re comfortable talking about, or should we talk about something else?”
“My anxiety?” His question catches me by surprise.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t mind talking about it.”
“My teammate who had depression, his name was Jacques. And the thing he hated about it the most was that it would hit him out of nowhere sometimes. He’d say he had nothing to be depressed about, but it was there anyway. Is your anxiety like that?”
I hum softly against his chest, feeling seen. “Very much so. Anxiety is my baseline. I don’t have to have a legitimate thing to worry about, but when I do have something big, it spirals. Or I guess it used to. The medication I’m on has been life-changing.”
“When did you go on it?”
“In college. I was twenty-one and there was a campus therapist who told me about it.”
He pulls me the tiniest bit closer and my pulse quickens. Am I just starved for human companionship, or are these feelings I’m having for him real?
“How’s the withdrawal going?” he asks.
“Better. The sickness is a lot better, but...I don’t know; it’s just an adjustment. I forgot what it feels like to have anxiety at the forefront of my mind all the time.”
“If there’s ever anything I can do to help with it, let me know.”
A wave of longing passes through me. My close friends and family who know about my anxiety aren’t unsupportive, but they’ve never actually talked to me about it this way. And romantic partners have all been judgmental, wanting to know why I was anxious and how to fix it.
Lincoln seems to accept that it’s just part of who I am.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “Do you have any weaknesses?”
He laughs lightly. “Hell yes I do.”
A few moments of quiet pass while I wait for him to elaborate.
He sighs softly. “I like to be in control. I hold on to grudges for too long. And I eat too many Reese’s cups.”
I laugh and slide my palm over his chest, tilting my face toward him. “Reese’s cups?”
“They’re my crack. I could take down an entire bag at once.”
“Well, hockey players need a lot of calories.”
“Tell my trainers that. The older I get, the harder it is to keep weight off.”
I furrow my brow. “You have to worry about that?”
“Yeah. Your brother has a freakish metabolism and can eat anything he wants, but I have to eat pretty clean. Extra pounds slow me down.”
I yawn, sleepiness tugging my eyes closed. “Don’t you think it should be colder in here?”
It’s cold, but not ice cold, like it should be with the fire out.
“This place seems to be well insulated.”
I want to stay awake and keep enjoying this, but his warmth is lulling me back to sleep. The last thing I feel is him tightening his hold on me slightly, keeping me close.
Several hours later, Lincoln walks back into the cabin with water to fill the tub when I burst out of the storage room.
“If I told you I just found the most amazing thing possible in the storage room, what would you think it is?”
“Uh...” He lowers his brows, the wrinkle between them appearing. “A breakfast buffet with bacon and eggs?”
“No, better. This is something that will last longer than one meal.” I hold up my hand with my find. “Toothbrushes! And toothpaste!”
“Hell yeah.”
“I’m going to brush for five full minutes. There’s a big metal box of toiletries in there.”
I don’t mention that it has tampons, pads and condoms—so many condoms—because that feels awkward.
Lincoln was busy making oatmeal in the kitchen when I woke up earlier. I was hoping to wake up first and enjoy some more time snuggled up to him, but no such luck. And in the few hours we’ve been up, neither of us has said anything about it.
As I watch him pouring a bucket of water into the tub, I wonder what he’d say if I told him he doesn’t have to look away when I undress this time. I almost burst out laughing. He’d flip his shit. Lincoln is a gentleman. And while I find that attractive, I find my mind wandering to thoughts of him not being a gentleman.
We’ve started dipping into the drinking water supply in the storage room, deciding we can refill the containers with snow when they’re empty. I pour myself a glass of water and use it to brush my teeth, and I don’t take the clean feeling for granted.
Lincoln takes a break from the water to brush his teeth, too, and I hold back a joke that’s not really a joke about us kissing to test out our fresh breath.
“Want some help filling the tub?” I offer instead.
“Nope. I’ve got it.”
“You go first this time.”
He lifts a corner of his lips in a smile. “You’re not using my dirty bathwater, Trin. You go first.”
I hold his gaze for a few seconds, replaying the sound of him calling me Trin and liking it. A lot. In less than a month, I’ve gone from being annoyed by him to wanting him to ravage me.
He said he’d help with my anxiety however he could, and orgasms are scientifically proven to be relaxing.
Imagining his powerful body on top of me sends a shot of arousal coursing through me. He’s dead sexy in the looks department, but it’s everything else about him that has me wanting him so badly I can’t think about anything else.
What busted up ankle? What anxiety? All I can think about is how he looks and sounds when he comes.
“All ready for you,” he announces.
He finished filling the tub while I imagined him doing every X-rated thing I could come up with. I’m over admonishing myself about it. We’re two single, consenting adults alone in a cabin with one bed. What better way to pass the time than getting lost in each other?
I get a towel and clean clothes, my heart hammering as I build up my confidence to make the first move. He’s too much of a gentleman; it has to be me.
When I reach for the top button on the oversized flannel I’m wearing, he quickly turns his back.
“Turn back around,” I say, light-headed from nervousness.
I can do this. I’ve seen him looking at me. We both want it.
He looks over his shoulder. “Everything okay?”
My hands are working quickly now, and soon I’m down to the fourth button, cool air brushing over my skin where the shirt hangs open. Linc quickly turns his head away from me again.
“It’s okay to look,” I assure him. “I...I want you to.”
His shoulders sink. “Fuck.”
That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. Shame floods me as I pull the shirt closed again.
“It’s not that I don’t want you,” he says. “I think you’re beautiful and I want you more than you know. But...”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
My skin is hot with embarrassment from my forehead to my toes. What was I thinking? Now every minute we spend together will be awkward.
“It’s Dalton.”
I furrow my brow. “My brother? Oh God. Are you guys...together?”
“Jesus, Trin. No. But he’s my best friend. He’s like a brother to me. He asked me to keep you safe, and I...don’t want to take advantage of this situation.”
This is so humiliating. Even when I’m the only woman for—how many miles? Hundreds?—he still doesn’t want me.
“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”
I allow myself to look at his back, which is tight with tension.
“I want to look. I want...hell, I want to do a lot more than look. But--”
“Stop talking!” My words come out harsher than I intended. “Please. Let’s pretend this never happened.”
His shoulders sink with a sigh. I scramble out of my clothes and into the tub, where no amount of scrubbing washes away my complete and total embarrassment over his rejection.
The one time I didn’t overthink something and let anxiety protect me from being hurt. I won’t let that happen again.