Chapter 15 Lincoln
LINCOLN
CREDIT WHERE CREDIT’S DUE
Na?ve, I wonder, or determined to believe in fairy tales?
Self-loathing dances with self-disgust, taking up residence in my stomach and making it damn near impossible to enjoy a sixty-dollar plate of pasta the way Nova can.
Her appetite is fine because her conscience is clear.
Mine, on the other hand, is riddled with the lies I’ve told and the false promises I’ve made.
With the USB stick in my pocket, burning my thigh and reminding me, minute after minute, what a piece of shit I am, and the vibration of my phone in a different pocket, Aster demanding my attention, and no doubt, confirmation I sent his package this afternoon.
I did.
My heart aches because of the watch I stole. It probably isn’t even the fucking key we’re looking for, and because of that uncertainty, my mind scrambles for a valid excuse if she notices its absence.
Though I can’t give her any. Because I’m not supposed to know it exists, and I sure as shit can’t admit I was in her home when she wasn’t aware of it.
Ryan lied to her, too. That much is certain. Because he went nowhere near the motor pool while he served, and he, too, knows the art of interrogation. With or without weapons, and in the presence of, or not, mental fuckery.
Did he ever manipulate her? For good or for bad, did he use his skills to point her in a certain direction, or—and more likely—away from one?
His lies, at least, were to protect her. To maintain that magic she clings to, and cement an image of perfection so she could continue to love him and be proud, long after his passing.
“I don’t like this.” Setting her fork down, Nova reclines in her chair and traces her bottom lip with the tip of her finger.
Her tilting brow draws me back to here, to now, and to realizing I’ve not been paying attention.
Shit.
“I mention Santa one time, and now you’re looking at me like I have three heads.”
“No. I’m sorry.” I give up on my barely touched dinner and rest my elbows on the table. “I got caught up thinking about some other stuff.”
“Yeah.” She smirks. “Things like how weird and whiny you think I am. It’s been two whole weeks since the accident. It’s time I stopped banging on about it, right?”
“Fuck no.” I shove my meal aside and reach across, laying my hand beside her plate.
“That wasn’t about you, Nova. I have a million things on my mind, but never, ever, do I think you’re weird or whiny or anything except perfect.
” I wiggle my fingers, prompting her to consider my hand.
“I promise. You were talking about Ryan and war, and I guess I just…” I breathe a little easier when she hesitantly lays her palm on mine.
“I got introspective. And now I feel like a giant asshole.”
“Is it annoying that I talk about him so much?” She blinks once, twice, three times, beating back the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I bet it’s irritating.”
“It’s absolutely not.” I stand and toss my napkin onto my seat. Coming around the table, her hand trapped securely in mine, I thrill in the way she folds her neck and searches my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You wanna dine and dash?” Only half-teasing, she glances past me.
“They know me here, Linc. Stealing sounds fun and all, but Elio would for sure be at the bank first thing in the morning to collect. I’m not opposed to making a scene—like sprinting across a dealership parking lot in a dress on a breezy day—but stealing chicken pasta and letting my boss find out about it is not…
” She focuses on me again, her eyes dancing playfully. “It’s not a good look.”
“We’re not dining and dashing.” I reach into her lap and toss her napkin aside, then I tug her to her feet and pull her firmly against my chest.
Her breath races from her lungs at the impact, her sweet exhale delicious on my tongue.
“I’m paying on the way out,” I murmur, so fucking close, I feel her pulse under my skin. “Then we’re going for a walk.”
“A walk…” She hesitates, rolling her plump bottom lip. “Off a plank? Or into the mountains where women go to die?”
“Or, third option?” I chuckle. “We buy gelato from that staring kid and wander Main Street until the mosquitoes suck us dry.”
Her eyes darken with deviousness. “This is a first date, Lincoln, and I’m a lady. There will be no sucking tonight. I thought you were a gentleman?”
“Ya know, I can’t honestly decide if I prefer you sad and a little quiet, or happy and ridiculously fucking obsessed with provoking me.” Backing away, I turn and lead her toward the register by the front doors. Paying and tipping, I ignore the kid’s looks of horror—who leaves that much food behind?
Finally, I order us a cup of gelato each and drag her into the dark outside.
The instant the heavy glass door closes behind us, I exhale today’s stress and inhale fresh mountain air and Nova Nichols instead.
Her pure and complete perfection. Her delicious scent and that strange ability she has that fills those spots inside me and, magically, calms my nervous heart.
“Will you tell me about your sister?”
And there it goes again, my peace, bouncing along my throat in choking exhales. Sauntering along Main Street and scooping ice cream onto her tongue, she finds my Kryptonite so fucking easily and makes it all seem horrifyingly innocent.
“Hmm?”
“Scarlett’s younger, right?” She licks chocolate off her lips and grins under the pretty strings of light strung from one power pole to the next. “You give me older brother vibes.”
“Yes, she’s younger.” I reach out and snag her purse from between her arm and ribs.
Her brows knit with confusion, her steps faltering.
But when I tuck it into my back pocket, freeing up her hands, she relaxes again.
“She’s six years younger than I am…” Shut up.
Shut up. Shut the fuck up! “She lives out near Denver, Colorado, and cleans for the wealthy.” Hesitantly, I glance across and catch her eyes.
“There was a time I felt that wasn’t good enough for her—picking up other people’s shit.
Being ‘the help.’ It was difficult for me to accept that she goes into other people’s homes and cleans their toilets for a living. ”
“Makes you sound like a snob.” Her lips quirk up on the side. “Work is work, and independence is more important than a job title.”
“I know.” I slide the flat end of my spoon through my dessert and take a moment to not look into her eyes. “It wasn’t really about snobbery or pride. It was about safety. I worried about her being in these homes, because rich white men are…” I shake my head, grinning. “Bottom of society’s barrel.”
“Are you not also a wealthy white man?” she teases. “I know your financial situation, Mr. Castro. I saw your loan application. You’re no Scrooge McDuck, but you’re comfortable.”
“And guys like me are absolute fucking pigs,” I counter seriously.
“Middle-aged married men sometimes get bored with what they have, so they try their luck with younger employees. Scar was barely twenty when she started. She’s beautiful, and in their minds, they probably figure she needs the money.
This creates a power imbalance that pisses me off. ”
“Has she ever been attacked on the job?”
“No.” I lay my spoon on my tongue and drag the ice cream free. “My worry was unnecessary, because her taste in clients is impeccable. They essentially make her part of the family.”
All except that one guy. That one time.
“Well, that’s nice.” She wanders closer, her shoulder brushing mine, and her smile grows wider because of it. “Does she adore you the way you adore her?”
“She probably can’t stand me. I still hear you’re so nosy, Linc! And stop nagging me, Linc, every time I close my eyes. It’s an older brother’s job to be annoying. The way I see it, Ry and I had that in common.”
She exhales a soft laugh, glancing ahead as we step off the curb. “Maybe that’s why you were such good friends. You bonded over your love of harassing younger siblings. Your parents?”
“Are they around?” I set my hand under her elbow and lead her off the road as we approach the other side.
“Yeah. Still married and chilling. They’re empty nesters now, with no grandchildren to fuss over.
They call once a month to make sure I’m still alive, and call Scar far more often, since she’s far more likely to give them grandchildren. ”
“Is she in a relationship? Anything serious?”
“No.” I dig into my ice cream again. “She’s had romances over the years, probably more than she ever shared with me.”
“I assure you that’s true.” She snickers. “Ry has no clue about Justin’s penis. Not everything needs to be shared.”
“Swear to Christ. If someone had told me three weeks ago I’d know this much about some other guy’s dick so soon after moving to a new town, I’d have called them a liar. But here you are, obsessing over a penis you swear you don’t like.”
“Not obsessing,” she giggles. “Reminiscing. I’m not talking about a regular small penis here, Lincoln. It was extraordinary. It’s like if I saw a ninety-pound bright pink cat in an alleyway; I’m gonna bring it up sometimes. It’s reasonable.”
“Get fresh stories,” I grumble. “Justin is a dead horse, and you continue to swing a stick.”
She clicks her tongue and goes back to studying her dessert. “Guess we’ll see what stories I have once you pull my Spanx off.”
My cock turns hard, and my eyes go to the stars above. “You’re a monster. You’re mean and cruel.”