Chapter 24 Lincoln #2
I blinked at her, confused. “That day. When I met you. I came up to you and asked you to take a walk with me and talk. You told me no.” I put my hand on my thigh to keep myself from shaking.
“You shut me out of grieving with you. So you obviously thought you had more right to your pain than I did to mine because you wouldn’t let us mourn together.
It’d been years since I’d lost my mom, and everyone, my father more than anybody wanted me to just get over it.
I thought that’s what your rejection meant. ”
Her brows pinched, confusion pulling at her mouth.
I swallowed hard. As much as I knew I couldn’t hold it against her, the memory still burned, jagged and raw, landing as harshly as every time my father hit me.
“That’s why I went ballistic,” I admitted, voice almost breaking.
“At the time, it didn’t matter to me that I was making it worse.
I needed to punish you until you felt for me, the way I felt for you. ”
“Shit, Lincoln, this is so fucking stupid …” Her hands covered her face for a second before she dropped them again.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” She shook her head, almost disbelieving. “I didn’t realize you were asking me out. I thought you wanted to shoot the shit or—I don’t know. I did want that with you, I just … I couldn’t that day.”
Something in me went very still. The ground shook under us and everything I’d built, every threadbare excuse came crashing down with it.
I exhaled raggedly, dragging my hands down my face. “I really did fuck it all up.” The words were almost a whisper, but they burned my lips with its poisonous truth. “I punished you.”
Every heartbeat pounded with shame and longing, and I could feel her eyes on me, probably seeing everything I’d tried to hide. I wanted to sink into the floor, disappear, and somehow still reach across the space between us so she’d understand how fucking sorry I was.
Nina’s expression softened just a fraction, but her voice stayed firm. “You did.”
I nodded once, the guilt pooling like bile low in my stomach, its heaviness making me sink into the cushions. “I can’t take any of it back, this isn’t about a blank slate or pretending it didn’t happen. It’s just about showing you that no one gets to tell you how to feel your pain.”
Her hand brushed against mine, small, tentative, enough for a lifeline I didn’t deserve. “It’s a lot, Lincoln,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to make sense of you or anything right now.”
“You don’t need to.” I rushed it out. “Just because it needs to be said, doesn’t mean it changes anything. I understand that now. If you’re not in information overload, I have one more thing for you to weigh in …”
My chest tightened, relief and yearning fiercely intertwining. I wanted to promise her the world, but for now, I just let my fingers linger over hers.
A knock at the door sliced through the moment. My head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Expecting company?” I asked, voice low, a protective edge threading through the words.
Her small, wry smile made me want to soften, but my muscles stayed taut. “Closer to an invasion,” she said. “Can you get the door for me?”
I battled with my gut feeling to stay next to her, but in the end, her request won, the way it always should have.
Carmen barged in first, all fire and teasing energy, and behind her was Diego, carrying large trays of food, his brown eyes locking on Nina with a warmth that made my chest clench.
And of course, that stupid manbun I wanted to cut off.
Three more women I recognized, their sisters, but I only remembered Martina by name, brought in bags of groceries and premade meals.
“Camacho invasion incoming!” Her voice carried through the apartment, loud and unapologetic, the kind of chaotic energy only Carmen could pull off.
They left everything they brought on the kitchen counter and rushed to Nina on the couch, enveloping her in hugs and kisses and what could only be genuine concern for her well-being.
When Diego bent down to kiss her cheek and squeeze her shoulder, something in my chest clenched at the sight of him next to Nina, too close, too comfortable.
So they’d become a thing, I thought grimly.
I’d misread us again; I had allowed myself to hope we could get past what I’d done.
But she was already someone’s, and I didn’t have that privilege.
It mattered. That she wasn’t mine, but I’d keep my promise, I’d show her what it meant for someone to truly have her back. I pulled away from the scene and went to the kitchen, needing to do something before I got swallowed up by the buzzing in my chest.
“You all sit,” I said, sharper than I meant, but they didn’t argue. “I’ll make coffee.”
The familiar ritual steadied me—mugs clinking against the counter, the hiss of the machine, the smell of grounds filling the air. It gave me an excuse to keep my back to Diego and Nina, to buy myself a few seconds to breathe before turning around to find Carmen ready to bring cups over.
“Hey,” she said softly, too softly for Carmen. “How are you doing?”
“Better,” I said, because it was mostly true. “Natasha’s being charged. Nina’s home. Things are …” I let my eyes flick briefly to her brother, who was lingering near my spot on the couch. “Looking up.”
“Oh, yeah?” Carmen’s mouth curled into a slow smirk, one brow arched. She cocked her hip and bumped me just above my thigh. “Things are looking up now that my brother’s pawing at your girl?”
I glanced at where Nina sat, they were sitting next to each other. Perfectly PG. “She’s not—” I cut myself off, jaw locking, because it wasn’t inappropriate but still too damn close.
Nina’s grin was carefree. I hadn’t managed to earn that from her yet.
“Your forehead’s all wrinkly. You’re making all sorts of assumptions.” Carmen crossed her arms over her chest and elbowed me lightly. “You should ask, rather than freeze someone to death with your glacial stare.”
I shoved three mugs into Carmen’s hands, a little rougher than necessary. “Living room,” I said, sharper than I intended. “Nina’s not supposed to be on her feet. And I’m just trying to have her back. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Mm-hmm,” Carmen drawled, shooting me a knowing look over her shoulder as she moved toward the couch. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Carter.”
I watched them from the kitchen while I was stuck in a ’90s sitcom, the unwanted extra in the background.
I caught every word in Spanish, but the punchlines still missed me.
Nina didn’t miss them, though. She laughed until she coughed, hand half over her mouth, her rescue inhaler burning in my pocket even though Diego was the one leaning close to check on her before I even moved.
One by one, the Camachos left the way they came—loud hugs, kisses on cheeks, and a whole lot of noise that lit Nina’s eyes up.
Diego left somewhere between sister one and four after murmuring something in Nina’s ear that got him a nod and me a shifty glance.
I followed him to the door, playing host in an apartment I didn’t live in, revving myself up for niceties I didn’t feel like giving.
“Just so you know,” I said, leaning against the doorframe, my voice low enough that Nina wouldn’t hear, “she’s still recovering, it’ll be a while before she can go out and about. I’m not going to let anybody, especially you, wear her out.”
Diego’s mouth curved into a slow, infuriating grin.
“Relax, man. Nina and I are moving at a different speed …” The pause hung just long enough to set my teeth on edge.
“But thanks for the heads-up.” He clapped my shoulder once and strolled down the hall, fixing up his bun, without waiting for a reply.
Carmen was the last one lingering. The apartment smelled of Nina’s comfort food, and while she rested, Carmen helped me tetris all the food away, then the fridge was crammed full enough to feed us for a week.
She gave Nina one last side hug, whispering something, while I stood waiting to see her out.
I opened the door for Carmen, then leaned against the door for a beat, exhaling, wondering why it seemed I’d lost a competition. Her curls bounced as she looked over her shoulder my way before turning toward the elevator.
“Hey, Linc.” Carmen’s gaze pinned me, her mouth already curving, knowing exactly where to dig and how to tease. “We Camachos pick up strays. There’s room for two, you know?”
My jaw locked, fingers biting into the edge of the door. “I’m not a charity case,” I said, voice edgier than I intended. “And I’m sure as hell not Nina’s boyfriend’s family.”
Carmen threw her head back and laughed, a full-bodied, delighted sound that scraped every sharp line I had. “Oh, Linc.” She wiped tears from her eyes, still grinning. “You’re reading it all wrong.”
She sauntered off, leaving me standing there with my pulse hammering in my ears. I shut the door harder than necessary, even when it was clear she’d had the last word.
“Hey …” Nina’s voice trailed from the couch. “Come back.”
My jacket and the manila folder on top of it had been shifted to the armchair, so I grabbed the envelope and sat next to her.
“We keep getting interrupted,” she said.
“Good things come to those who wait.” I flashed my dimples. “You still feel up to hearing this?”
She nodded.
I pulled out the papers from my lawyer. “You don’t have to take Silas up on anything,” I said. “I’ll give you the money.”
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “What?”
“I want to invest in you, Nina. This firm, studio, collective, what you’re building, I want to back it. I want to back you. No strings. No percentages.” I handed her the paperwork to transfer the investments my mom had set up for me.
She blinked at me, lips pressing into a thin line. “Lincoln, you don’t even know if I got that pitch—”
“I know.” I kept my tone steady, even though my chest was tight.
“You heard Silas. And even if you hadn’t, I had these drawn before I knew.
You’re the smartest, most stubborn woman I’ve met.
Silas and those fuckers don’t get to rope you back in.
With this, you stay yours, no one gets to own you.
” I swallowed because she was going over the numbers and wasn’t saying anything.
“There’s more than enough for you to have medical insurance, Nina. ”
She reviewed the papers back and forth, tracing my black-inked signature with her index finger. She stared at me, weighing the offer, and her face kept her composure even when glassiness flickered in her eyes.
Slowly, softly, she whispered, “What if I wanted more. What if I wanted a partner in this thing I’m building?”
I closed my eyes. I’d known she might want that—someone ready to go fifty-fifty with her. But I wasn’t that person. There’s no way she’d want that from me.
“I’d help you find someone. With BrightMark, Nina. We’ll find you someone.”
She clicked her tongue. “I’m still going to need a graphic designer …”
“You’ll have a list of names tomorrow. No sweat. You can do this.”
She smiled and shook her head. “You’re not following.” She held my hand in hers. “What if I wanted you to do this with me?”
I froze, a stunned laugh breaking out of me before I could stop it. Air had been sucker punched right out of me and left my ribs aching, raw and alive. I’d just been handed back pieces of myself I’d destroyed when I thought she’d rejected me.
“I’d say you can have me in any way you want me. And I’d work the hardest I ever have not to fail you again.”
Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, and her lips curved. Not just a smile, but something lighter, freer, and it tugged at my soul as if she’d just let me into some secret corner of her heart.
“Good answer.”
Relief flooded through me so fast my throat ached. She was giving something better than anything I could have asked for: not forgiveness, not even redemption, but a chance to build something with her instead of tearing it apart.