Chapter 31 Lincoln
Lincoln
I wake to the quiet sound of Harper’s breathing, soft and gentle next to me.
Her body is warm and just as soft where it rests against mine, and after a bit I notice her scent has shifted again.
It’s no longer thick with the fevered desperation of her heat, but now calmer and more settled somehow. Like an exhaled sigh of relief.
It’s the fourth morning since her heat started, and the difference is unmistakable.
I’m sure her body is still sore and tender, and clearly wrung out after what we put her through and what her heat demanded of her, but the haze in her eyes lifted more day by day, and when she opens her eyes and looks at me now, I can tell she’s fully present for the first time in days.
She squirms against me, more getting comfortable than seeking any kind of friction, and I tighten my arm around her, careful not to press too hard into any sore spots.
The three of us have taken care of her as best we could—feeding her, cleaning her up, and fucking her until she was too boneless to think—but this is different. All of that was coasting on a haze of passion and need, the desperate desire from Harper and our instinctual want to take care of her.
Now we’re in the aftermath of all that, and it’s uncharted territory.
“Lincoln.” My name spills from her lips on a soft murmur, her voice rough and quiet in the early morning light.
I press a soft kiss to her temple, not caring that I probably still smell like sweat and sex. We all do, to be fair.
“Good morning,” I murmur back. “You okay?”
She nods. “I. I just wanted to say thank you. Not just for that night… or any of the others, but for everything. For taking care of me. For being there when I needed someone the most.”
There’s a look in her eyes that makes something in my chest ache. It’s like she’s surprised almost, that she wasn’t left alone with her desperation. Or that she’s overly grateful because she thinks it was some kind of burden for us to do this for her.
“Of course,” I tell her, putting as much sincerity in it as I can. It’s the only thing that makes sense to say. Of course I took care of her. Of course I stayed.
“You know…” Harper trails off and then sucks in a breath. “For the first time in a long time, I feel alive. Like I’m actually here in my body again, and the numbness I’ve been carrying has finally cracked open enough to let something real through.”
That makes me pause, and I’m quiet for a while, taking that in.
It’s a vulnerable thing to say. The kind of thing that she definitely would not have told any of us when we first met her. It might just be that she’s too exhausted from everything to keep it to herself, or it might be more than that.
I like to think it’s the latter. And her honesty makes me want to tell a truth of my own.
“I feel the same way.”
That’s not something I say lightly. And ordinarily, it’s not something I would ever admit out loud. It half slipped out, compelled by Harper being so open right now.
“I told you about my friend, who died in that fire, and ever since then…” I break off with a sigh.
“Ever since then it’s been like everything is static.
Or like I’ve been underwater and the world was just muffled noise around me.
I couldn’t really engage with anything on a real level, and I didn’t even know if I wanted to.
Some days I was just going through the motions of living because I knew my friends, my family, my pack would notice if I just…
gave up. And I did think about giving up sometimes.
Until now, nothing really felt like anything real.
And then you came along and everything’s different now. ”
A silence stretches between us for a while after that, but it’s not awkward. It’s full and heavy with the things we’ve just said and the things that are still unsaid, but it’s good. It feels like progress, instead of hiding.
When I look down at Harper, she’s looking up at me, a small, real smile on her face, and it knocks the breath out of me.
She’s so fucking beautiful, and she’s here, curled up in my arms, still smelling like the aftermath of everything we did to her.
All of a sudden, it’s not enough to just lie here with her. I feel the need to move, to do more burning under my skin, so I give in to it. I scoop her up into my arms, ignoring the startled noise she makes at the sudden movement.
I carry her into the shower, settling her down on the bathroom counter so I can get the shower running and heating up.
It’s not even about sex right now. I just have this need to take care of her. I want to help wash away the last few days and make her feel clean and grounded again.
She plants her hands on the counter, still looking a little shaky.
But her eyes are still clear, and she watches me intently.
When the water is warm enough, I help her down and give her a hand into the shower, closing the glass doors behind us so we’re sealed in with the steam against the rest of the world.
There’s no rush here. After days of her heat bearing down on all of us, we can take our time finally. I maneuver her beneath the spray, letting the water soak into her hair and skin, and then reach for her body wash.
I lather up her loofah and start soaping her up, taking her arms one by one, moving across her chest and down her stomach, and then around to her back.
She hums softly at all of it, letting me move her this way and that.
When she takes the loofah from me and starts soaping me up as well, I let her. There’s something quiet and intimate in it, and it feels good to have her hands roaming over me.
We wash each other’s hair, taking turns tipping our heads back under the spray and shielding each other’s faces from the water and suds.
It feels cleansing in a way that’s more than just us washing sweat and fluids off each other, and by the time we shut off the shower and get out to dry off, Harper looks more refreshed.
She looks like herself again, but happier. Lighter.
We get dressed and head back out to see Cash and Everett have left the bed and probably gone to take their own showers. The sheets will need to be changed and the room aired out, but for now, Harper and I go downstairs to the kitchen.
“Sit,” I tell her, pressing her into a chair at the kitchen table. “I’ll put the coffee on.”
“And breakfast?” she asks.
“And breakfast.”
I start the pot of coffee and do simple scrambled eggs with cheese and toast for breakfast. I don’t think anyone has the energy for anything more elaborate than that this morning, but it’s filling and hot, and when I set a mug and a plate in front of Harper, she tucks into the food like she’s starving.
Which she probably is, considering everything that’s happened the last few days.
She piles eggs onto the bread and crunches into it, making a noise of pleasure.
I can remember the way she used to eat in front of us when she first came here, always hesitating like she was embarrassed for us to see her do something as common as eat a meal.
It was just another aspect of her worrying about being too much or not enough, but now she doesn’t seem to be thinking about that at all.
Her appetite is uninhibited by any self-consciousness, and it makes me smile to see it.
Everett and Cash come down a bit later, still damp and toweling off their hair. They fill mugs and plates for themselves and then drop into their seats at the table, settling in with us.
There’s an ease to it that feels natural, even though it’s still new. It’s been the three of us for a while now, but adding Harper to the pack feels right.
She looks around the table like she can’t quite believe it’s real. Like any moment she might be thrown out or told it’s all some joke. Of course that doesn’t happen, and she seems to be letting herself believe that it won’t.
Or at least she’s more focused on clearing her plate than anything else at the moment.
We eat in companionable silence until Harper’s head snaps up with a soft, “Oh, fuck.”
All three of us immediately look at her with concern. “What is it?” I ask.
“Cora,” she says. “I—she’s okay?”
I nod. “My sister still has her. She’s been fine.”
There’s some relief in her face at that, but she chews on her lip. “I miss her. I want her here.” Her voice catches a little, and I wonder if this is the longest they’ve been separated since Harper became her guardian.
It’s sweet, really, and I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone before Harper says anything else. She doesn’t ask twice. She doesn’t have to.
I call Lainey and tell her it’s time for Cora to come home.
By early afternoon, Cora is back in Harper’s arms, and all is right with the world. Harper’s eyes are wet, and Cora buries her face against Harper’s neck, hugging her tightly.
I stand back, watching as Harper drops to her knees and holds on to her niece, clinging like she might never let go again.
Cora recovers faster, clapping happily, probably completely unaware of how much her presence grounds all of us. The bliss of being four years old, I guess.
After the exertion of the last few days, we all take it easy at home, reclining in the living room with the TV on low while we do our own activities. Everett goes over some notes, Cash scribbles in a notebook, and I pull out a book, alternating between reading and staring into space.
Cora seems happy to have all of us in the same place and not going to work, and she flits between everyone, showing off her toys and the friendship bracelets she made when she was with Lainey.
After a bit, Cash looks up, a little smile on his face. “We should go do something,” he says.
“Something like what?” Harper asks. She doesn’t look like she wants to move from the couch.
But then Cash clarifies, “Something fun for Cora,” and that gets her attention immediately. “We haven’t seen her in a few days,” he continues. “It would be nice to go out and do something with her.”
Harper scoops Cora up into her arms and holds on to her. “Would you like that, baby?” she murmurs. “Do you want to go out and do something?”
Cora looks skeptical at first, but then Cash plays his ace. “You know Bessie doesn’t live far from here. You remember going to see her? We could pay a visit. It’s just down the road.”
That immediately makes her clap her hands and nod eagerly, and we all laugh at that.
“It’s a good idea,” Everett says. “Getting out of the house would be good for all of us.” He looks to Harper, who smiles.
“Yeah, I’m in.”
“I’ll make a call,” I say, getting up to call Lainey again. She laughs when I relay my request, but then calls the farm to secure permission for us to go see the cow.
Within the hour, we’re all dressed and tromping through the pasture.
Bessie comes over the hill, and Cora’s little face lights up the second she sees her. She takes off running, making a little noise of happiness.
“Be careful!” Harper calls, probably more worried about Cora falling in the grass than the cow hurting her. But we all hurry after Cora, in time to see her stop in front of Bessie and lift up her hand.
Bessie snorts softly and stays still, letting Cora pet her. She’s a peaceful old lady, content to let a four-year-old pat her all over and then feed her a handful of fresh hay for her trouble.
“Hold it up like this,” I tell Cora, demonstrating so she can copy me.
Bessie munches the hay and then noses against Cora’s hand like she’s looking for more.
“Do you want to sit on her back?” I ask her.
Cora’s eyes go as wide as saucers as she looks at me. She makes the sign for ‘high’, and I smile.
“It is high, yeah. But no one here is going to let you fall. Your aunt, Cash, and Everett will keep an eye on you, and I’ll be right here. Do you want to?”
She thinks it over for a while and then nods. So I scoop her up, letting her cling to me before I settle her on the cow’s back. Something about the way she holds on to me makes a feeling warm and unfamiliar bloom in my chest.
It’s trust, I realize after a beat.
Cora’s trusting me to keep her safe, and more than that, Harper’s trusting me with someone so incredibly precious to her. She’s watching us, but keeping her distance, not hovering like she thinks I’m going to drop Cora or let her fall.
It feels good, and I smile a little to myself before refocusing on the task at hand.
We spend the whole afternoon there in the grass, petting Bessie and letting Cora feed her hay.
Harper seems light and unburdened, and she laughs more than I’ve ever heard her laugh before.
When Cora tows her over to ‘meet’ Bessie, Harper holds a hand out to her, and the smile when the cow touches her nose to Harper’s hand is radiant.
It’s the exact thing we needed today, and even Everett is in good spirits, smiling and telling Cora the few things he knows about cows.
When the sun starts going down, we start heading back to the truck. Cora rides on my shoulders, and I keep my hands on her legs, making sure she can’t topple off in her excitement to see everything as we go.
I catch Harper’s grateful smile and smile back instantly.
There’s something there in her eyes that makes my throat go tight. It just feels right to be like this, to have her here and have her niece on my shoulders. To have my pack—our pack—on an outing like we’re a family.
It’s dangerous to start thinking like that though. Dangerous to start wondering… what if. Harper still plans to leave, and this was never supposed to be a permanent situation. It’s better not to dwell on what’s not going to happen because it can’t.
So instead, I take a breath and force myself to look ahead at the road. I’m good at my job because I don’t let myself get distracted by the things I can’t control. I focus on what’s possible and act accordingly.
This should be the same thing. Harper’s going to do what she needs to do, and there’s nothing I can say to influence that. It’s out of my hands, and it would be easier if I could just think about it the way I do when I’m running into a burning building.
But it’s not that easy, and it doesn’t feel the same at all.