Epilogue
Linc sat up in bed and gasped. His hand immediately went to his shoulder, and it took him a few moments to realize that he wasn’t sleeping under branches and leaves, his arm wasn’t almost torn from its socket, and he wasn’t on the run from enemy forces determined to find and kill him . . . after interrogating him, of course.
He was breathing hard, as if he’d been running. Sweat dripped down his temple, and he’d soaked his sheets once again.
Damn nightmares. The head docs he’d been to all said the nightmares would fade. Said that once he’d mentally dealt with everything he’d been through during that week after crashing his fighter jet, he’d be able to sleep through the night once more.
That was a crock of shit.
Linc had dealt with the mental aspect of what happened. He’d actually received training before the crash on what to do if he was ever captured by the enemy. He’d gone through “interrogation training,” and he didn’t recommend it to anyone.
Afterward, he’d had physical therapy for his shoulder . . . and yet he was still medically chaptered out of the Air Force.
His entire identity had been tied up in being a pilot. Not just any pilot . . . but a hotshot top gun fighter pilot. He’d been one of the best of the best. And now what was he?
Nothing. It sucked.
Looking at the clock, Linc saw it was one in the morning.
He hadn’t been asleep that long. He’d long since gotten used to only getting two or three hours of sleep each night.
He swung his legs out of bed and quickly gathered up the sweat-soaked sheets.
After throwing them into the washer, he went down to the kitchen in nothing but his boxer shorts.
He made a cup of hot chocolate—he didn’t care how childish it was, he loved the stuff—and walked over to the large windows in his living room to stare out at the night.
Linc loved Maine. Always had. One of the reasons he’d enjoyed living out West was because there weren’t as many people around, very similar to his home state. But here, he had a lot more water and trees.
The house he’d bought needed a ton of work, but he liked the place and had nothing but time on his hands.
He wasn’t working, had saved and invested wisely while in the Air Force, and now he received disability since being discharged.
So he spent all his time working on either his own house or his mom’s.
Thoughts of his mother made Linc smile, forgetting his nightmare.
Evelyn was a firecracker. He hated that his dad wasn’t here anymore, but at the same time, he was grateful he hadn’t lived to discover the appalling things his oldest friend, Otis, had done.
He would’ve been so proud of his sons though, for coming home to help their mom when she needed them most.
He also would’ve been thrilled about the two grandbabies that were on the way.
Linc shook his head. He still couldn’t believe Chad and Zach had both found women to put up with them, who were now pregnant. Their mom was in heaven with the fact that in the next year, she’d have not one, but two grandchildren to spoil rotten.
As Linc stared out into the darkness, imagining how beautiful the ocean would look if the moon was bright enough for him to see it, he realized his feet were cold. There was a chill seeping in from around the windows.
Sighing, he realized resealing the windows—or maybe even replacing them—was on his list of “must do” things for the house.
Of course, every day it felt as if he found another “must do.” The house was old, but he’d fallen in love with its location—on a hill overlooking the Atlantic—and hadn’t hesitated to buy it, especially because he’d gotten it for a steal.
It was big, with five bedrooms, an office, a dining room, two separate living areas, a small but cozy kitchen, and of course, those huge windows letting in the light and warmth in the summer and highlighting the view.
His brothers had helped him with the roof earlier in the summer, while it was still warm, and he’d rebuilt the deck off the back of the house so it wouldn’t collapse when someone walked on it.
He still needed to gut the kitchen and put in all-new appliances, as well as redo the floors in the entire house. Painting was up next on his task list, though.
He should do that now. Might as well get something done since he was awake. There wasn’t a chance in hell of him being able to fall back to sleep.
His family wasn’t aware of the extent of his insomnia or the nightmares connected to his PTSD—or that he had PTSD at all.
And he wasn’t about to tell them. He was the oldest Young brother.
The one everyone looked to when they needed something.
Admitting to a weakness like not being able to sleep because of one damn week of his life? Wasn’t going to happen.
Looking into the now-empty mug in his hands, Linc sighed, then turned toward the kitchen. He’d just finished washing the mug, putting it in the dish rack next to the sink, when he heard his phone pinging.
Looking around, he realized that he’d grabbed it off the nightstand out of habit when he’d left his bedroom on the second floor, leaving it on the counter when he’d made his hot chocolate.
Frowning, Linc grabbed it from the linoleum countertop. Concerned about how late it was and hoping nothing was wrong with one of his family members, he looked at the screen.
His frown grew. The text wasn’t from any of his brothers or his mom. It was from Kash. The twelve-year-old kid who lived next door to Lobster Cove. The grandson of the curmudgeon who’d been a thorn in their side for as long as he could remember.
The son of the girl who’d made his high school years almost unbearable.
Linc had befriended Kash that spring, and they’d gotten even closer when he’d helped coach him for the annual Great Crate Race. Obviously desperate for some positive male attention, the boy had latched on to Linc in a big way.
He was a good kid. Smart as hell. A little nerdy. At times, he seemed like he was twelve going on thirty, and other times, he was more like a seven-year-old. But Linc liked him. A lot. Told him that if he ever needed anything, no matter what it might be, to let him know.
The second Linc read the boy’s text, he tensed.
Kash: r u up im scared
Linc was moving toward the stairs even as his fingers flew over the keyboard.
Linc: I’m here, Bud. What’s wrong?
Even before Kash started typing a reply, Linc was getting dressed. He didn’t know what was happening, but if the kid was texting him at—he looked at his clock on the table next to the bed—one thirty-four in the morning, something was very wrong.
Maybe his grandfather had finally kicked the bucket.
Lord knew the man hadn’t made many friends in all the years he’d lived in Rockville.
But he was still Kash’s grandfather. There was at least some decency inside the man, because he’d invited Harper, his daughter, to live with him when she had nowhere else to go .
. . even if he was charging her rent. And he’d done the right thing and reached out to Chad when he’d realized Britt and their mom were kidnapped by Camden Calvert.
And then there was the fact that he’d been the one to find the island where Marit had been taken after being attacked by that shithead, Pearson.
Victor Rogers was still an ass, but Linc was starting to see that the man had some redeeming qualities. If something had happened to him, it would affect Kash and . . .
Linc’s thoughts wanted to stray to Harper, and he tried to lock that shit down—but failed.
The woman had made his life a living hell when they were teenagers.
He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her for what she’d put him through .
. . even if she was obviously struggling hard now.
It was karma, Linc had thought, when he’d first found out how low she’d fallen.
From the popular, beautiful runner-up for homecoming queen, voted most likely to succeed in high school, to single mother working at Walmart and living back at home with her dad, in the town she couldn’t wait to escape.
But the thing was . . . Linc found that he reluctantly respected the woman she was today. She kept to herself, worked her ass off, and did what she had to do to give Kash what he needed. A roof over his head, food, an education . . . family.
But it hadn’t always been that way. Linc was well aware of the rumors about how mother and son had lived in a car for a while, right before she’d come back home to live with her dad in Rockville.
It was time he let the past go once and for all. He knew better than most how people could change. He wasn’t the boy he’d been back in high school, just as he was no longer the man he’d been while in the Air Force. Harper obviously wasn’t the same mean girl she’d been when they were kids.
Linc’s phone dinged again, indicating he had another text. Pushing thoughts of Harper and their past to the side, he concentrated on the here and now.
Kash: mom got in another fight with granddad I think he kicked her out and she doesnt have anywhere to go she told me she was going to sleep in her car at Walmart im scared what if she doesnt come back what if someone hurts her while shes sleeping what do i do
Linc frowned. Harper and her dad had a volatile relationship for sure. But the fight had to have been really bad for her to decide not only to leave Kash at the house, but also to think her only option was to sleep in her car.
Linc’s mom had offered to let her and Kash stay in the rental house on Lobster Cove, and Harper had declined at first, then finally agreed.
Kash had been so excited . . . then a couple of days before they were supposed to move in, the dishwasher leaked, and no one had discovered it for a full twenty-four hours.
The floors were ruined, as well as the drywall in not just the kitchen, but the rest of the small house.
When Linc pulled up the soggy mess, not only was mold already growing, he’d discovered asbestos in the subflooring.
As a result, he’d had to pass the job of making sure the cancerous material was removed to a professional contractor, one who was licensed to do that kind of thing.
And of course, all the contractors were booked up for weeks, if not months.
Harper had been gracious, and she said she understood, but it was still a blow not only for her and Kash, but for Linc’s mom as well. She’d been so looking forward to them moving in.
Kash: linc?
Shit, he needed to get his head out of his ass and deal with this. Not leave the poor kid hanging.
Linc: I’ll take care of this, Bud. I’ll go find her and make sure she’s safe. Are *you* safe? Are you scared of Victor?
Kash: no hes a grump but not to me just to mom i dont like when they fight
Linc: All right. I’ve got this. You need to get some sleep, you have school in the morning. I’ll let you know when I have her and what’s up, and you can read the text when you wake up. You trust me to take care of you and your mom, right?
Kash: yes
Linc: Good. Then go to sleep. You have that science test tomorrow.
Kash: i could pass it without any sleep its easy thank you linc i knew youd help
Linc: Anytime you need me, I’m here. Thank you for trusting me.
Kash: ttyl
Linc now knew that meant “talk to you later.” It had taken him a while to understand the shorthand Kash used, and to get used to him not using any punctuation whatsoever when he texted.
He threw a sweatshirt over his head and leaned over to pull on his boots. Thanksgiving was next week, and winter was finally rearing her head here in Maine. The first snowfall of the year was supposed to come in a few days.
He and Harper might have a lot of mutual baggage in their past, but Linc would be damned if he sat around and let her continue to live in her car.
He didn’t know what he could do to help her situation, but he’d do something.
Maine was no place to be homeless . . . not that any state was ideal for it.
And he wasn’t the kind of man who sat around and did nothing when a twelve-year-old kid reached out for help, admitting he was scared.
Harper may not have been the one to ask for his assistance, but she was damn sure going to get it all the same. She always did what was necessary for Kash—and Linc was fully prepared to pull on those heartstrings to get her to agree to accept his help.
One way or another, Harper Bates would be safe for Thanksgiving . . . and beyond.