Chapter 2 #2
“While that can be an uncomfortable thing, a decent person makes sure that the sick one is okay before leaving.”
Not sure I’d call Tom a decent person.
Either way, Lincoln owned his responsibility for the bad communication with his hookup. He knew better than to jump into bed with someone before all parties knew what was going to happen. He’d been so damned horny and lonely, and he’d let the beer go to his head.
A tiny voice deep down inside of him that sounded a lot like Dominic told him that Tom should have stopped when Lincoln told him to, but Lincoln told that voice to shut up. Otherwise the whole thing hurt too much.
“Honey.” Zelda rested her warm palm against his cheek. “Did something happen that you want to tell me about?”
“No.” He absolutely did not want to relive last night, and not with a woman he thought of as his mother. “Just want a shower and some sleep.” An awful thought hit him. “You didn’t call Dom, did you?”
“No, and neither did Roxy.”
“Good.”
She frowned. “You don’t want to call him and talk this out?”
He wanted Dominic more than anyone else, ever, but he wasn’t going to show that weakness to a woman who’d done more than enough for him for two lifetimes. “Don’t need to talk out a migraine. He’s got his shows to worry about.”
“What about the boy you were with?”
“Don’t want to call him either.”
Her lips twitched, and her hand dropped back to her lap. “I meant, don’t you want to talk that out with Dom?”
So Dom can crow about how I finally went out and got laid, and then feel sorry for me when he hears how it ended? No fucking thank you.
“Maybe later,” he said. “Not today.”
“You know, you spent so many years watching out for my boy, being careful of his feelings, and protecting him. It’s okay to let him look out for you for a little while, especially when he’s able to be the stable rock. You boys aren’t the same young men you were a year ago.”
Lincoln knew that without having to be told.
A year ago, XYZ was on the verge of a breakthrough into an actual record deal.
Lincoln was happy, healthy, and so proud of Dominic for beginning to work through some painful emotional baggage.
Now Dominic had a thriving career, and a steady boyfriend, and he got to travel the country, while Lincoln drifted through his days like a ghost. Waiting for the next scrap of attention he received from his best friend.
“You’re used to being the one holding Dominic together,” Zelda continued. “Maybe it’s time to let him return the favor.”
“Hard to do when he’s always on the road.” He hadn’t meant to let that slip. He never wanted to guilt Dominic for having a life.
“I know it is, honey, but that’s part of being an adult.”
“Isn’t part of being an adult owning your choices?”
“It sure is. It’s also about knowing when it’s time to ask for help.”
“I don’t need help. All I really need is a shower.”
She held his gaze a beat, then nodded. “You got a robe?”
“No.”
“Be right back then.”
Lincoln used her brief disappearance to scoot closer to the edge of the bed.
His backside was still a little tender and plenty gross after spending all night letting things dry.
Zelda returned with a towel, then left again.
By the time Lincoln eased onto shaky legs and wrapped the towel around his waist, water was flowing through the pipes.
Such a mom.
She wasn’t in the bathroom when he finally got there, thank God, so he shut the door, let the towel drop, and stepped into the tub. The hot spray hit him in the groin first, and he shuffled forward so it could jet across his chest and face. Turned so the water could run down his back to his ass.
“Stop.”
“Almost there.”
He grabbed the bar soap and started lathering his body, desperate to scrub away the sick feeling in his stomach.
He washed his hair, his torso, every crevice and crease, including behind his ears and between each toe.
He washed until his skin burned and the water was lukewarm, and it still wasn’t enough.
“You want something, ask for it, you little shit.”
He’d never make that mistake again.
Lincoln turned off the water and dried himself.
Wrapped one towel around his waist and another across his shoulders, then bolted down the hall to his room.
The bed was changed with fresh sheets and a new blanket, and the loveliness of that made his eyes sting.
He put on flannel pants and a long-sleeved tee, and then crawled back into bed.
Zelda woke him a while later with a small meal of broth and crackers. He sipped at a sports drink, too, kind of grateful for the mothering.
“How long are you staying?” he asked.
“’Til the morning. Roxy wants to go see a movie, and we haven’t done that in so long. You feel up to joining us?”
“No, but thanks.” He cast about. “Do you know where my phone is?”
“Where did you have it last?”
“Jeans pocket. Last night.”
She found the jeans crumpled in a pile near the closet. The phone was down to thirty percent battery. No missed calls, but he had two texts.
Melody: Now you have my number.
Melody: So how’d it go with Tall Cute and Blond last night?
He’d totally forgotten about meeting Melody—probably the best part of his entire night. Except for the bar back with the pale eyes. That was a very good memory, brief though it was.
Zelda left with his tray and no questions, so he typed out a response: Didn’t end how I thought it would. You have any luck?
He debated texting Dom, waffling on it long enough for Melody to ping back a reply.
Predictably no. Your guy have a small prick?
Lincoln snorted. No, he was all prick. Big mistake.
Sorry to hear that. Want to meet & try our luck tonight?
As much as he liked the idea of hanging out with Melody again, he had no intention of sitting in a bar and ogling future mistakes. Not feeling the night life.
I hear you. Want me to come over? I’ll bring wine. We can bitch about men.
He stared at the message until the pixels began to blur.
He’d known Melody a grand total of three hours, and she was inviting herself over.
And that wasn’t a bad thing. He needed friends, and he liked Melody.
She was easy to talk to, and she didn’t seem to have that adopt-a-gay thing that some straight chicks got when they started hanging out with a queer dude.
He wouldn’t mind the distraction.
Why not? Roommate won’t be here.
Awesome. Red or white?
It took him a second to realize she meant wine. Pick your fave. My stomach’s weird so I may not drink.
Suit yourself. Seven thirty?
He had to check the time. Still only four. Plenty of time for another nap and more soup to fuel his engines. Sounds good. He also texted over the address.
She sent back a GIF of a baby dancing in happy circles.
Maybe Melody was as lonely as he was.
And that, he decided as he drifted off again, was pretty fucking pathetic.