Chapter 45
Gabrielle's POV
Lincoln’s head moves. Even though I’ve seen it happen to him many times, it’s still weird to see someone just lose consciousness like that. One minute he’s awake, and then the next his head just falls forward, lifeless, as his brain and nervous system shut down.
I hate seeing him like that because… then my mind always goes… what if he died.
“Welcome back,” the nurse says cheerily as Lincoln lifts his head, looking at both of us confused.
Lincoln had explained to me a long time ago that it literally feels as though he blinks one moment and wakes up somewhere else the next.
“Did I pass out?” he asks tiredly, probably relieved it’s all over.
“Yeah, but you're okay,” I smile at him, reassuring him.
“And we’re all done,” the nurse adds in her usual joyful-nurse demeanor.
Lincoln is given some juice to drink, and then we leave the clinic. We stop and pick up some lunch.
“Thank you for coming with me,” he says quietly.
I have an idea. “Can we make a stop?”
“Sure,” he says.
I take him back to the beach; the place I always wanted to take him.
The car rolls over gravel, and we both get out.
“Bring the bag,” I tell him, pointing at the food we ordered.
He looks around, wondering where the hell we are.
I beckon him to follow, and he does quietly. The seagulls start clouding the area, and I can tell Lincoln is surprised at how low they’re flying.
“You fed these birds before haven’t you?” he asks.
“How do you know?” I ask, legitimately curious.
“It’s obvious,” he answers, watching them like they’re playing in the sky.
“They’re not going to hurt you, Link.”
“Yeah, I don’t want them shitting on my head.”
“You would deserve it.”
“I know I would deserve it, but you can bet your ass I’ll wipe it off on you. These are your birds. They should shit on you.”
For a moment, it almost feels like we’re a couple again. I don’t even know why I brought him here, but I wanted to go, and he was already with me. He doesn’t have to go into work today because they gave his department their respective days to get their medicals done.
So it’s one of those rare Mondays where I can actually sit with him outside of work, which is strange, because even when I was married to him, I didn’t get that luxury. Not even when he was sick.
We start walking toward the jetty.
I don’t go too far this time, just about two minutes until the water is surrounding us. I turn to face Lincoln and sit cross-legged, causing him to do the same. We lay out the food between us.
I start eating, and some of the seagulls land close to me. Handsome is the closest, of course. He opens up his beak and charges toward any other seagull, lifting his wings to intimidate them before coming back to stand beside me.
Both Lincoln and I have our mouths full. Lincoln stares at Handsome. “That one really likes you,” he says.
“Yeah, he looks like you a little bit.”
“What’s his name? I know you named him.”
“Handsome.”
Link smiles, trying not to show his teeth as he chuckles with food in his mouth. “He looks like me and you named him Handsome?”
“Something wrong with that?” I challenge him, biting my burger.
“Nothing at all. Just nice to know you still think I’m handsome,” he smirks.
My stomach flips.
“You don’t get to flirt with me.”
“Oh, but you can flirt with the seagull that looks like me?” he asks with a smile.
“Ew. Don’t smile with food in your teeth, dude,” I say, trying my hardest not to laugh because he looks ridiculous.
This is nice. Despite everything, this is still nice. I thought I would hate being out here with him, but it kind of feels like closure. Bringing him here… it feels natural.
After some silence, I notice Lincoln is just looking at me, having finished his food, his legs stretched out, his arms behind him bracing him up.
“What?” I ask, curious.
“This is the place you wanted to take me, wasn’t it? Before you came to find me and I wasn’t at work?”
There goes the mood.
I sit up, putting down what’s left of my burger, which is only a handful. I clap my hands to dust off the crumbs, then toss some toward the birds.
“Gabby…”
“…Anyway, I want to get back,” I say, getting up.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
He’s still sitting there, staring at his shoes absent-mindedly.
He stands and grabs the garbage, taking some of the fries and throwing them out to the seagulls as we both feed them.
When I look over at him, I notice he’s smiling as he tosses food, and I’m shocked by how captivated I am.
How much I actually miss him. How deeply I know I’ll never have him that way again. And how sad that reminder makes me.
His eyes lock onto mine, catching me staring. I look away.
We head back toward the car quietly. The speakers are still playing the precious melody of Nessa Barrett’s “Dirty Little Secret.”
I turn around and wave at Handsome; the seagull uses the wind to coast and hover above my head. The wind carries him over to Lincoln, who’s right in front of me, and he lands on Lincoln’s shoulder.
He just stands there, staring straight at me, like he’s using Lincoln as a perch to get himself eye level with me.
For whatever reason, it makes me want to cry. It’s so poetic and… just so meta.
“I guess he likes me,” Lincoln says, smiling. But his smile falls when he sees the look on my face.
I hate these emotions. They sneak up on me from nowhere. And in a weird way, it feels like I’m saying goodbye to my husband. There’s so much I want to say to him.
“I can drive,” he tells me.
I nod. He walks to the passenger side door and opens it for me. Handsome flies up and lands on top of the car as I stand there with a tear sliding down my face. Lincoln just stares at me.
When I sit in the passenger seat, he remains outside the passenger side, then leans in and pulls my seatbelt across me.
A deep prickling sensation spreads across my skin at the memory of him doing this for me so many times. He looks at me, his face right in front of mine.
He remembers too.
My hands move on their own, threading into the back of his hair and pulling him down so my lips can reach his.
At first he’s still, his lips moving slowly, like he’s fighting it, just like he did the first time we ever kissed. But then he can’t control it. He leans into me, pulling my legs so they’re hanging outside the passenger side of the car.
His moans, God, his moans make me crazy, and I moan back, which makes him even more excited.
My fingers find his cock, already hard, already throbbing in my hand, pulsing against my palm like it’s been waiting.
My mind is screaming, don’t do this Gabby, he cheated on you, you’re supposed to be moving on—
Shut the fuck up.
I need him right now.
My hands peel his shirt off him desperately, and the next thing I know my back is across the middle of the console. It’s uncomfortable but I don’t care.
“Lincoln,” I whisper, hearing the desperation in my own voice.
He kisses my neck and then I feel myself being lifted out of the seat. We’re clumsy, fumbling, like our bodies refuse to separate. He tries to open the back door, his hand misses the handle, so I reach back, grab it, and open it for him.
He lowers me inside, and I throw myself back onto the seat, twisting so my legs can open and wrap around him.
There’s no time for protection.
What am I protecting?
I know I should be protecting something. I don’t even know what. Everything is foggy, and hot, and overwhelming.
He looks overly excited, and I hiss at the sharp mix of pain and pleasure as my husband’s cock finds its way back into the place it once belonged.
Deep.
Hard.
Right against my cervix.
My walls stretch around him with every thrust.
He goes fast, so fast, like he’s been dying in a desert and I’m the first drink of ice-cold water he’s tasted in years.
God dammit, this man feels so good.
His shirt is off, and he’s wearing that little silver chain. I never really processed it before, he only ever has it on when he’s coming in from work. He’s not a chain person… so Sarah probably gave it to him.
None of that matters now.
But something keeps hitting the bottom of my chin. I’m wondering what the hell it is, but before I can focus, he grabs my chin and tilts my head up to kiss me as he fucks me hard.
I’m so wet for him. My whimpers sound like cries.
Because they are.
This is what my body wanted more than anything.
To feel him again.
To feel us again.
His cock gets harder, so hard his thrusts start to hurt in that way that makes my toes curl.
He’s trying to be quiet, but he can’t. He groans first, then grunts loudly as his cock punches out his climax against my insides.
“UGH!!!!” his breath expels with the force of his pleasure, becoming louder and synced with every pressurized stream he ejects into me.
“Is this happening?” he murmurs, still thrusting, albeit slower now.
“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you,” he says, voice breaking with emotion.
“Just fuck me please,” I whisper, and a few seconds later I’m coming too, so hard it feels like I’m dissolving.
His orgasm is still going.
On my back, I feel him slump his full weight onto me, and at first humiliation strikes me when I hear him laughing.
My throat tightens. I want to cry. I wasn’t supposed to give in. I was supposed to tease him, make him pay a little, make him feel something. Instead I just… slept with him. I’m not even sure how it happened.
Now he’s laughing. Of course he is.
“Lincoln get off,” I say, my voice weak.
But he doesn’t. His body stays slumped onto mine, his dick still inside me. All I can see is his neck where my face is turned, the height difference making it impossible to see his expression.
I put my hands on him, not pushing him, just preparing to…
His body is shivering. Why?
Then I hear the whimpers.
“Lincoln?” I ask, concern flooding me.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so s-sorry. Oh God, I’m sorry, I fucking miss you. I want you. I need you please Gabby. You’re the love of my life I… I can’t do this anymore,” he sobs, louder and louder, his face buried against me, his weight collapsing into me. And I can’t help it. I start crying too.
“Lincoln…” I sob, my legs still wrapped around him. “We can’t.”
“Please forgive me. Please. Please, I'm so… so so so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry,” he cries over and over, lifting himself just enough for his dick to slide out, then lowering his lips to mine.
He kisses me deeply, his tongue moving with mine, and I kiss him back as he pours his heart into my mouth. He keeps apologizing between the kisses, and even though it makes him look like a fool, he doesn’t care. I thought he moved on.
But clearly his heart is still breaking.
And as much as I want to give in fully… I can’t forget what he did.
He had promised himself to me and still broke the covenant between us.
This was sex, and it was beautiful, and I can feel that he still loves me.
But I’ve learned the hard way that love isn’t enough anymore.
Someone can say they love you and still hurt you worse than your worst enemy.
So it’s a no.
“I’ll forgive you in time, Lincoln. But we can’t get back together. I know you know that.”
I didn’t know it was possible, but his body slumps even more, like something in him just died.
After about a minute, he slowly lifts himself off me. His nose is red, his eyes red-rimmed, his dark brown hair falling over his face.
All I want to do is say yes.
But he closes his eyes in defeat, steps back, and gently helps me sit up and out of the backseat.
We both fix our clothes.
Then, emotionally drained and silent, we sit in the car as he drives us home.
Thank you for reading!