Chapter 21 #2
Conversations needed to be had. But he’d wanted a few more hours of sleep first, enough for the painkillers to wear off and his mind to defog. But he couldn’t do any of that without getting out of his sweater. “Up here,” he called back. “Could use your help.”
Familiar footsteps thumped up the steps and down the hall, then a low chuckle erupted behind him from the general direction of the door.
“Shut up,” Carter grumbled.
Lincoln snickered some more. “You’re in polka-dot boxers and stuck in a sweater. It’s funny.”
“Ha-ha. Now, help me out of this.”
Warm hands landed on his bare flanks, and Carter’s senses were pleasantly overwhelmed.
Callused fingertips lightly scratching his skin, the ever-present smell of coffee, the cool metal band on Lincoln’s left hand.
“You know,” Lincoln said as he tugged the sweater over Carter’s head, “there was a dress shirt in that suit bag you left in the hospital room.”
“I realized that two minutes ago.” Carter gave his freed head a shake, trying and failing to toss back the curls tickling his forehead.
Lincoln did it for him, his fingers lingering in the tips of his hair a moment longer than necessary, before he dropped his hand, averted his eyes, and angled his face away, hiding his red-streaked cheeks as he continued to work free the sweater.
“You were supposed to wear that suit for the press conference this afternoon.”
Carter held his arm steady while Lincoln temporarily removed the sling and slid the sweater the rest of the way off. “I don’t do press conferences.”
“You just helped catch a serial killer that’s been on the FBI’s most-wanted list for two-plus decades.”
“Can’t have my face plastered all over the place. I’m on to my next UC assignment.”
“Already?” He settled Carter’s arm back in the sling. “How’s that going to work with your arm like this?”
“I’ll mostly be running command but can’t be too careful.”
“Who’s your partner?”
“Joint task force gig.” Carter sank onto the nearest side of the bed and breathed a sigh of relief.
In front of him, Lincoln shifted foot to foot, looking anywhere but at him.
He should let him off the hook, let him get back to his life, one that didn’t actually include Carter, no matter how desperately Carter wanted it to.
“Don’t you have a basketball tourney to get to? ”
Lincoln lifted his gaze, and it was full of so much—hurt, confusion, desire, hope—that Carter had to look away.
“Hey,” Lincoln said softly. He stepped close, between Carter’s legs, and touched his chin, nudging his gaze back up.
“You know what Ryan said was a load of horseshit, right? When we questioned him, he actually commended you for conquering your fears.”
Carter swallowed hard.
“And I’m sorry for blowing up at you like I did in the library.” He let go of Carter’s chin and skated a thumb over his cheek. Carter had to close his eyes. Had to bite his lip and hold his breath to hold in his words. “You are an incredible partner.”
Partner.
Carter scooted out of his reach. “Thank you.” He levered himself up toward the headboard and rested there, trying not to appear too winded from the small effort. “Everything square with Ryan? Last I talked with Beverley, he said Ryan had been charged and was being transferred.”
Lincoln cleared his throat. “Yeah, he’s on his way to DC. Case was officially moved there this morning.”
“Larry and Weathers?”
“Local lockup, pending the federal prosecutor’s decision on charges. They may kick them to state courts.”
“I’ll have the rest of my reports filed before the end of the weekend. I’ll be back to testify as needed.” He moved to turn over, but Lincoln’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Damn it, Carter, talk to me.” He lowered himself onto the bed, next to Carter’s hip. “What’s going on here?”
Words escaped. “You have a whole other life to get back to.”
“Yes, but I like our life here too.”
Carter’s chest tightened, and his eyes burned. “Jesus, you’re breaking my heart, Professor.”
“And mine’s not?” Lincoln half shouted, half croaked.
Red streaked across his cheeks and Carter immediately knew how much that admission had cost him.
He pushed off the headboard, narrowing the distance between them, and took Lincoln’s hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the ring on Lincoln’s finger.
“This isn’t our life here, as much as we might want it to be. ”
Lincoln gave a watery chuckle. “Is this a common UC problem? Did I totally fail?” He lifted a hand and swiped at his eyes. “You were not a variable I planned for.”
Carter laughed too, then leaned his forehead against Lincoln’s.
“If you failed, so did I.” How could he not?
He’d gotten the chance he’d wanted for eight years, and it had been better than he imagined.
And more complicated than he’d imagined.
“You’ve got a family back in DC that you’re rightfully protective of, and I’m still trying to find mine. ”
“What if I want to be that, for you?”
Warmth burst from the hard knot in Carter’s chest, flowing out through his veins.
He wanted to roll around in it, savor it, belong in it, but he wasn’t sure he could trust it as much as he wanted to.
“We can’t decide that right now, L. Not after everything we’ve been through.
Let’s get some distance. See if we still feel the same when I come back to town for the trial. ”
“I don’t—” Lincoln cut himself off, then took a deep breath and drew Professor Monroe up to the surface. The same confident man who’d strutted past him into the house a week ago. “I can help you find them. Your family. This is what I do. What I’m good at. Will you let me help you?”
“Why?”
“Totally selfish reasons. You need to find your family before you can become part of mine. And Carter, what I said before holds. No matter what we find, it won’t change how I feel about you. I want a shot at this for real.”
Carter trusted that, believed it down to his bones, and it was a powerful antidote to the fear that had driven him his whole life.
A shift in his frame of reference. It still mattered, he still needed to know who he was, but this man, the future he offered, made the prospect of the truth he might find so much less frightening.
There was no one else he’d rather have help him.
“Okay,” he said, then captured Lincoln’s lips.
Indulged in the kiss they’d been avoiding for days, the one that had them falling back on the bed and diving deeper with tongues and touches.
Rolling around in that warmth that was so damn tempting and addictive.
Except Carter was working at a double disadvantage, one arm down and fighting a battle against medicated exhaustion that even lust couldn’t overcome.
Lincoln knew it too, drawing back with a wicked yet resigned smile. “You’re fading fast, aren’t you?”
Carter hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Lincoln gently pushed him back onto the pillows. “I read your chart. That nurse gave you some good shit. It’s amazing you’re still awake at all. Get some rest. We’ll game plan before we leave tomorrow.” He started to rise, and Carter caught his wrist.
“Stay with me.” He rubbed his thumb over Lincoln’s hammering pulse. “I’d like to spend a night with my husband in my one good arm, in our house.”
Lincoln blushed furiously, and Carter knew without a doubt he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his favorite professor. Once they figured out what that life was.
“I’d like that.” Lincoln leaned forward and dropped a soft kiss on his lips. “Let me go change, check in with Elena, then I’ll be back up.”
Carter nodded, already half asleep, drifting further that direction as Lincoln helped him under the covers. He was almost the rest of the way there when Lincoln slid in beside him several minutes later.
Nestling against his side, Lincoln slung a leg over Carter’s and laid a hand over his where it rested on his chest. “You bought these rings, didn’t you?”
Carter wrapped his good arm around his back, holding him tighter and burying his nose in gold and silver, and spoke the truth. “I did. In Roanoke. Less than an hour after I’d convinced Beverley to assign you to the case.”
Lincoln chuckled, and Carter fell asleep happier than he’d ever been, feeling, for the first time in his life, like he was exactly where he belonged.