Page 50 of Carry On

“Pretty sure that’s a biohazard,” I told him.

“Probably, but it’s someone’s dream somewhere,” he agreed with a yawn. “If you could do anything, Linc, what would you do?”

“I like what I do.”

“Liking your job and living the dream aren’t the same thing.”

“I don’t know.” I didn’t. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought about. “To be honest, I’m good where I’m at.”

Good enough. I’d never been one for big dreams and bucket lists. I learned how to survive and how to make it by. For the longest time, there hadn’t been anything else I could do. There had been no room for dreams and wants. Even now, I was all too aware of how easily it’d be for me to be knocked down again.

“I’m good,” I repeated softly. Nash made a sound like he didn’t believe me. “And what about you?”

“I’d go to Canada,” he whispered. I frowned, not expecting that as an answer. “Have you ever heard of Moraine Lake? My mom said it’s the bluest lake she’s ever seen—that nothing could compare.”

Curiosity got the better of me, and I pulled my phone out of my pocket to look it up. His explanation didn’t do the pictures justice. I’d never seen water that blue.

“You’d go on vacation?” I asked.

“I guess. I don’t know,” he replied. “I want to see what she saw.”

“I’ve never been on vacation,” I admitted. Yeah, my dad had moved us around a lot to chase the next con, but a real vacation? I’d never donethat. My aunt and uncle never had the money for it. I refused to count the anniversary trip my ex had planned because that hadn’t been a vacation. By the time I was on my own, the drive to work and secure a safe future took over. Eventually, that drive turned into the most predictable way of life. I liked the predictability.

“You should get out more, Linc. We’re confined only by the prisons we build ourselves.”

“I think it’s a little more complicated than that,” I said. “I have my job. I can’t just up and leave whenever I want.”

“A prison you’ve made for yourself,” he pointed out.

“And you?” I dared to ask. “What prison holds you?”

“My mind,” Nash answered softly. I waited for him to say more—to elaborate—but he didn’t.

Those two words were profoundly terrifying. I barely knew Nash, but there were moments where he peeled back the curtains of his mind, and something dark slipped out, something deeply broken and exhausted. Those moments both scared and worried me. While I was no stranger to emotional turmoil and pain, this was something I couldn’t begin to fathom.

And I had a feeling that the tiniest bits he put out there barely scratched the surface of what he was feeling.

CHAPTER 37

NASH

Mid-conversation,Ifellasleepon him. I hadn’t meant to, but the warmth of the condo and the weird comfort of the conversation got the better of me. He let me and even covered me in a blanket. For a fraction of a moment, it felt like he cared.

When I finally did wake up, Lincoln was up and cooking in the kitchen while wearing nothing more than a pair of black workout pants. One of the ground rules should’ve been that the man wasn’t allowed to walk around dressed like that. Since when did being a lawyer require being sculpted? At my peak in the Army, I looked like that. It was unreasonable that he did. The fucking tease.

“Morning,” he greeted with a smile. He was too fucking cheery for so early in the morning, and, considering how he laid out food for two on the table, it was clear what he had in mind for our day.

“You’re about to tell me we have to talk more, aren’t you?” I demanded as I sat down at the table. He offered a tight smile. At least we’d gotten the personal shit out of the way. “Fuck.”

Instead of replying right away, he slid a plate of food in front of me. One slice of toast and one scrambled egg. I made a face.

“I know it’s not drizzled in cum, but it’s a good start to building up your ability to eat again,” Lincoln said.

“But what if I want it drizzled in cum?” I demanded, being purposefully difficult. I didn’t need him to take care of me.

“Ground rule number two: no cum-drizzled food.”

“You take the fun out of everything, Melvin.”