Chapter 22 #2
The opening bars of Pearl Jam’s “Just Breathe,” followed by the beautiful lyrics in a much-missed voice floated down the stairs.
Stairs that were covered in pictures.
Carter toed off his boots, left them in the foyer with his laptop bag, and approached the first step.
And the first picture. Of a middle-aged couple, the woman with dark curly hair stuck to her sweaty face, the man with green eyes and brown hair sprinkled with gray in a hospital gown beside her, both of them smiling huge.
Between them, a baby slept, wrapped in blue blankets, a patch of dark curls matted on his head.
Carter patted down his curls and moved to the next step.
The same woman in a dress, the man in a suit, wearing a yarmulke, and the same baby in their arms with a light blue yarmulke to match, the Star of David stitched in dark blue, the tiny cap nestled in a thicker patch of dark curls.
The next step up. The couple standing beside a packed full car, Good Luck, Sun Devils, in shaving cream on the back window. They were dressed casually, jeans and Arizona State T-shirts, smiling, the baby in their arms in a Sun Devils jumper, his eyes open, green, like his father.
My father. And mother. Me and my family.
As the stairs continued up, there were more pictures. Yearbook photos, class rosters, work applications, ASU staff photos. Other candids from the school and local newspapers.
And on the top step, a small laminated card. A replica of a birth certificate.
Jacob Farb, born January 2, 1988, in Tempe, Arizona, to Arial and Hannah Farb. Carter picked up the card as Lincoln finished the song. “This is me,” he said.
“It is,” Lincoln answered quietly.
Carter crested the stairs and through a sheen of tears glimpsed Lincoln in his desk chair, rolled over next to the fire, guitar resting on his crossed legs.
He was beautiful, gold-and-silver hair glowing in the firelight, dressed down in jeans, a dark T-shirt, and red-and-gold argyle socks.
Socks that matched ASU’s colors, the place where Carter had been born, where his parents had worked. “You found them.”
Lincoln nodded and moved the guitar off his lap to the floor. “I did.”
Carter slowly crossed the room, still half dazed at the revelations, and lowered himself onto the floor on Lincoln’s opposite side.
His eyes had drifted back to the birth certificate, unable to tear his gaze away from it for long, but he wanted to be close to the heat and to Lincoln.
He laid a hand on Lincoln’s thigh, needing the connection after going without it for too long.
Lincoln tangled their fingers together. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
“I played, sang, and built you a fire.”
Facing his fears again, for him. Carter tugged their linked hands toward him and kissed the backs of Lincoln’s knuckles. “Thank you.”
“What do you want to know?” Lincoln asked.
Everything, came to mind first, but there was really only one question that mattered. Only one answer Carter feared. “Just tell me, did they leave me? Did their families not want me?”
Lincoln loosened his hand and tangled his fingers in Carter’s hair.
Carter’s stomach fell, anticipating the worst. “No, baby. They didn’t abandon you.
They died in that accident, like we suspected.
They were older when they had you, same as their parents when they’d had them.
When your parents died, they had no family left to look for you. ”
It wasn’t the worst, as Carter had feared, but it still left him feeling hollowed out, a grief he hadn’t expected. He was an orphan, not by anyone’s choice but by circumstance. He was alone.
The fingers in his hair tensed, then smoothed, reminding him that no, he wasn’t alone.
“I’m not abandoning you either,” Lincoln said, as if reading his mind.
Or maybe that was just the logical conclusion of the tears on Carter’s face.
They came faster as Lincoln continued to speak softly.
“You are a good man, a good agent, even a good pretend husband, most of the time.”
Carter chuckled, waterlogged, but the huff of air expelled some of the grief, making room for relief, for the warmth that started to creep back in, from the fingers still tangled in his curls down to the center of his chest. He set aside the birth certificate and turned his attention to Lincoln.
Rising up onto his knees, he angled Lincoln’s chair and lifted Lincoln’s one leg off the other, spreading them so he could scoot between them, bringing them face-to-face. “Thank you.”
“I still like you.” Red streaked across his cheek, but he didn’t look away. “I might even love you.”
Carter rubbed a hand over his chest. “Is that what this achy thing is?”
Lincoln laughed. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Hmm,” Carter said, hands gliding up Lincoln’s thighs. “I think I might love you too, then.”
Lincoln slid to the end of the chair and cradled Carter’s face, sweeping away the leftover tear tracks. “You’re a good man, Carter Warren. Or Jacob Farb? Either way, I would like the chance to get to know you better, to love you, to make you part of my family, if you’d like that.”
“I’d like that very much.” Carter laid his hands over Lincoln’s, fingers brushing Lincoln’s ring finger, missing the cool metal there. “And I think I might like Carter Polk best of all.”
“Good, because these things are heavy as fuck on this chain.” Lincoln’s eyes flickered down to the V-neck of his shirt.
Noticing the bullet chain there, Carter lowered a hand and notched a finger under it, dragging up the two braided rings.
“They need to go back on our fingers where they belong.” Lincoln’s words, his lips, were warm against Carter’s temple. “Where we belong. I want you in my life, Carter Polk. Still. Always.”
Carter lifted his eyes to the honey-colored ones he wanted to wake up to every morning, had missed every day they’d been apart the past three months.
“I want you in mine too, Professor Polk.” He closed his palm around the rings, warm from Lincoln’s body, and hauled Lincoln forward, out of the chair and onto his lap, needing to feel Lincoln’s body against his again.
Lincoln came without protest and looped his arms around Carter’s neck. “One condition.”
“Always the conditions.”
“Just one.” Lincoln rested his forehead against Carter’s. “Clean up after yourself.”
“I can do that, if you’ll play for me.”
“Whenever you want, baby,” he replied with a rock of his hips.
Carter gasped out a “Sing too.” And rocked back. “Your voice is amazing.”
Lincoln’s smile brushed Carter’s lips. “I actually got better with age. All that practice singing Elena to sleep.”
Carter froze, then put enough distance between them to look Lincoln in the eyes, to let him know that he understood and respected the place Elena held in Lincoln’s life. “When you’re ready, I’d like to meet her.”
Lincoln’s smile grew wider. “Good, because I told her we’d all have dinner together tomorrow. Or rather, today, now. Trina’s coming too. They’ll embarrass us both, fair warning.”
“I can’t wait.”
Any lingering doubts Lincoln had about upsetting the balance of his family vanished at the eager smile that stretched across Carter’s face.
He was telling the truth. He wanted to meet Elena, Trina, Gabby too eventually, and Lincoln was sure he’d fit in perfectly with them.
Probably to Lincoln’s own disadvantage—the gang-up would be epic—and he couldn’t wait.
“Thank you,” Lincoln said, infusing all the appreciation and happiness he felt into those two words.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Carter whispered, the adoration and awe in his voice sending heat rushing to Lincoln’s cheeks. He didn’t bother to hide it, letting Carter see the emotions he stoked in him. And stoked higher as he skated a thumb over Lincoln’s cheek.
To the point of breaking.
Lincoln groaned and brought his mouth down on Carter’s, hard and desperate.
Carter moaned in answer, needy to match, and drove a hand into Lincoln’s hair, angling his mouth for more.
Lincoln gave him everything he had, likewise wanting everything he’d missed over the past three months, wanting everything ahead of them still.
Including the arousal that was nudging the underside of his balls.
He broke the kiss, reached behind him to push the chair out of the way, and tipped backward.
“I’m counting on that arm to be healed and to catch me before I splat on the floor.”
“It’s carpeted, and you are not exactly at splat distance.”
“Technicalities.”
Laughing and kissing, they inclined backward, Carter bracing a hand on the floor and using the other to lower Lincoln onto his back. “There. Splat avoided.”
“My savior.” Lincoln yanked Carter’s shirt off in thanks, wrestled out of his own, then, hands on Carter’s impressively ripped flanks, drew Carter down on top of him.
He hissed at the solid warmth pinning him to the floor, at the enticing friction of Carter’s thick, dark chest curls against his nipples.
Torture and ecstasy at being skin to skin, at how much better it was than any of his fantasies.
Than even their last, chaste night together in Apex.
It was what they’d needed then; this was what they needed now.
Carter braced a forearm on either side of his head, sinking more fully against him and purring.
“Did you forget which of us is the cat in this relationship?” Lincoln teased.
Carter threaded his fingers through Lincoln’s hair, and Lincoln nudged against the gentle touches, chasing after them. “Oh, I remember,” Carter said. “And you are a gorgeous house cat, even when pissy. Which I promise you won’t be when I’m done with you tonight.”
Lincoln hooked his legs over his hips and rocked up against him. “You’re still insufferably cocky.”
Carter’s top teeth dug into his bottom lip, half grimace, half grin. He let a slow breath out, then slid his erection against Lincoln’s, teasing them both. “Well, if we’re being literal.”
Lincoln smiled wide, basking in their banter, the physical and verbal. “Future librarian.”
“I have a better demonstration in mind.” Carter lifted enough to work their zippers open, their erections free, and held them in his fist together, Carter’s hot, hard length trapped against his own.
“Cocky would be me, taking our cocks in my hand . . .” He stroked them once, twice, and Lincoln bowed off the floor.
Hot breath, hot words next to his ear. “And promising to get you off in less than five minutes.”
Lincoln keened, riding the wild edge of desire.
Hanging on as long as he could, hands tangled in Carter’s hair, as the cocky asshole nipped down the column of his throat, teased the divot at the base of his neck, then flattened his tongue over one then the other nipple.
Taking the left one between his teeth, worrying it, as he increased the speed of his hand shuttling up and down their cocks, Carter’s hard length trapped against his own.
Bringing Lincoln right to the edge, then sending him toppling over when he released the worried nipple to drop a tender kiss over his heart, next to their rings.
Carter’s trembling body drew him out of the post-coital haze. Laughter. “I think you made it to four, Professor.”
Using his hands still in Carter’s hair, Lincoln yanked him up, kissed him hard, and pushed off with his left foot, flipping their positions. He broke the kiss, smiling victorious. “I’ll get you off in three.”
It took a half minute to get them fully undressed, a minute to get the condom on Carter and work himself open, sitting astride Carter’s thigh, spreading the lube he’d brought around and in his hole, watching Carter’s flush grow deeper, his breaths shorter, his cock harder.
Another ninety seconds to sink onto Carter’s cock, to groan out the satisfaction with him, to lean forward and seal their lips, to press back into Carter’s hands that grabbed his ass, to ride him until he came with a shout that was sure to wake the neighbors.
Sweaty and spent, Lincoln fell forward, face in the crook of Carter’s neck. “Three, baby.”
“Maybe we’ll make it to ten next time.” Laughing, Carter rolled them onto their sides, his cock slipping out and his back to the fire, Lincoln against his front.
After another minute of their contented purring, Carter drew back, his gaze drifting over Lincoln’s shoulder toward the kitchen.
“Did I smell biscuits when I walked in?”
“Barry’s recipe.”
Green eyes shot back to his. “He gave it to you? Wait!” Aghast, he drew back farther. “You can bake?” Lincoln waggled his brows, and Carter laughed out loud. “Now who’s cocky?”
Lincoln trailed a line of kisses across his chest. “You’re going to have to get up and get them, though. I’m forty-two and just had sex on the floor. I need recovery time, and I don’t just mean my dick.”
Carter brushed the damp strands back off his forehead. “You are still the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”
Lincoln stretched up and stole a kiss. “They’re good, better than Ginger’s but not as good as Barry’s.”
“We can make monthly visits to Apex.”
That sounded delightful, for the time being. “Until Elena decides to go to school there, then we move with her.”
“You’ve thought about this?”
Lincoln bit back a smile. “Elena went with me to Apex to help with the research. She liked it, and I realized how much I missed it. Almost as much as I missed you.”
“A lot, then?”
“So much so that I’m thinking about buying a house there.” One close to the lake, with a terrible HOA and nosy neighbors. Those he missed too.
“Oh, are you? Which house?” Carter’s knowing smile was so big, so full of love and contentment, of hope and excitement, that Lincoln loosed his own, unable to hold it in any longer, unable to deny the boundless happiness filling up his soul, all thanks to this brave, sexy, brilliant man in his arms.
He grinned at his future husband and gave him the truth, the family, the future they’d found, together. “Our house, of course.”