Chapter Eighty-Two
Isla
I felt a shift and had barely emerged from the depths of sleep when a pounding headache slammed into me a second before a fifteen-year-old’s rough voice.
“Are you going to die?”
I opened one eye, and my mind scrambled. No vetiver-and-citrus-scented muscled strength that’d wrapped around me last night and kept me warm.
Linc was sitting on the edge of the bed.
No Will. No warning.
“What time is it?” I didn’t know how I was supposed to answer Linc’s question.
I needed Will. But now I was angry at him.
He’d followed me and brought Linc here, and he never should’ve done that.
Except it was only a deep corner of my mind that was angry.
My heart had her own agenda, one that was altogether different.
Linc’s casual shrug that was anything but lifted and stretched at his hoodie. He rubbed his palm down the leg of his jeans. “I don’t know. There’re no clocks in your house.”
I pushed up, and the comforter fell away from my shoulders. The cold air hit me like a shock to my system, and I immediately regretted it. “Oh my God,” I groaned, sinking back down under the covers.
Linc’s eyes went wide with alarm. “What’s wrong?”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Every drunken thing I’d said last night replayed in my mind, and I hated myself.
This was exactly why I didn’t want Linc to know.
“Nothing, I’m fine. It’s just really cold.
” I pulled the comforter back on the side of the bed where he was sitting at the edge. “Get under here. It’s freezing.”
“Um….” Linc looked at me like I was crazy. Then he made a joke. “Have you seen the size of my dad?”
I smiled. “You could take him.”
His short burst of a laugh was music to my soul. “Yeah, no. I couldn’t.” His eyebrows drew together. “And I wouldn’t want to try?”
“Is that a question?”
He shrugged again, but this time it was short and quick, then his head dipped down.
“I don’t know. I mean, like… if you ever needed something?
” He looked up at me with those intense green eyes that were exact replicas of his father’s.
“And he didn’t, like….” He shook his head. “I would be there, you know. For you.”
Instant tears welled. “Thank you. So very much.” This kid. My heart. “I would be there for you too.”
“You kinda weren’t.”
My heart crushed into oblivion. “I’m so sorry.”
His gaze dropped, and his voice turned quiet, but the accusation was no less impactful. “You came here. There’s not even any heat.”
“I think I have a lot of apology pancakes to make.” I tried to smile through tears.
He didn’t respond.
It was worse than him telling me I hadn’t been there for him. Now I understood even less how I had been raised, how my parents had been.
“Linc.” Sitting up, I reached for his hand and grabbed it. “I’m truly sorry.”
Without lifting his head, he looked at me. Then the haunted emotions locked in his gaze decimated me into dust. “Why did you leave?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.” I squeezed his hand.
He didn’t squeeze mine back. “You didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Would it have made a difference?” Hurt was hurt, and I never wanted to hurt him.
“Yeah.”
“How?” I kept gripping his hand, but I knew it was for me. This kid was stronger than I was, and he didn’t even know it.
“Because we’re Nilsens,” he stated without hesitation or humor or ego, just as if it were a simple detail, like the day was cloudy and the room was cold enough to see your breath.
“Fact.” Will walked into the bedroom with two mugs. “We are Nilsens.” He handed a mug to Linc as he addressed him. “And what do Nilsen men do?”
Linc took the mug, then looked at me as he answered his father. “We convince her to come home.”
Handing me the other mug, Will answered his son. “That’s right.” Then he lowered his voice a fraction, and his dominance came out in force. “We convince her to come home.”
My own emotions all over the place, my heart suddenly slamming into my ribs, my head pounding, I wanted to hug them both, but at the same time, a very small part of me, the little girl I used to be, still wanted to run.
But I couldn’t deny the overwhelming feeling that was rapidly spreading through me like the heat from the mug was warming my hands.
This was home.
Will, Linc, me.
The three of us.
A home like I’d never had.
Tears fell down my cheeks.
“Drink the coffee, Isla,” Will quietly ordered.
Automatically obeying, my body and mind already attuned to this man and his pride of one, I brought the mug to my lips. Then I inhaled the coffee, and the last ounce of agency I had in that moment surfaced. “Linc’s too young to drink coffee.”
“No, he’s not, but his is hot chocolate. Drink.”
Linc drank.
I looked at my warfighter who’d crossed the battlefield for me. “I don’t consume caffeine.”
“Today, you do.” He tipped his chin. “At least half. It’ll help with that hangover.”
“I don’t—”
“Drink the damn coffee, Isla.” His voice firmer but not raised, there was no mistaking his commanding order or his irritation.
“You’re bossy.” I smiled.
Linc smiled.
I drank the coffee.