Page 70 of Burden of Proof

He pulled his lips together between his teeth, working them until they were both dark pink and indented from the pressure.

“Do you think there’s like…some metric about this? That you’re not allowed to have feelings until x amount of time has passed?”

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it like that.”

“It sounds ridiculous when you say it your way,” he countered.

I sagged against the couch, against my brother, my closest confidant for all of the life that I could remember.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Neil and Annette,” I told him gently.

His arm tensed, but he lifted it and took a drink of his whiskey.

“I’m not,” he said.

“Finn.”

“Are you in love with…I don’t even…what did you say his name was? Lincoln?”

“Lincoln,” I confirmed.

“Are you in love with Lincoln too?”

This was the real reason I’d called Finn. I needed someone else to ask the question, to put me on the spot and force me to sit down and really think about it until I was able to get to an answer. If I shoved away all the ideas of what society felt an appropriate time for those feelings to develop, if I ignored the—very small—age gap between us, if I only paid attention to the two things that mattered the most…me and him…

“Yes,” I confessed to my brother. “I am.”

CHAPTER 21

LINCOLN

Smith left just after nine, and as soon as the door to my apartment was closed, I had my phone out to text Hunter.

Hey

Smith just left. It went well.

We got me a new fish.

Smith sent me a picture

What name did you settle on this time?

Feeny.

Cute.

What are you up to?

I didn’t do it to get a response, but I sort of thought I would hear from you after I sent that video earlier today.

The idea had been brewing in my head all day long, eating away at me a little more every hour that went by without a response from Hunter. I knew he worked, and I knew his workwas often busy, but the fact I’d sent him that video, which was one of the most revealing things I’d ever done, and he’d ignored it did not sit well with me. By the time Smith called it a night, I was barely able to hide the way the silence had me crawling out of my skin.

I liked it A LOT, Lincoln.

Do you want to come over?

I frowned down at the lower half of my body, clothed in threadbare plaid pajama pants. My piercings glinted under the shitty light of my studio fluorescents and nothing sounded better than being in the warm comfort of Hunter’s apartment, but the last thing I wanted to do was put on shoes and a shirt and drive across down. In answer to his question, I sent him a picture of my bare chest, my low-slung pajamas, the tangled sheets beneath my legs. His next text came quickly.