Page 37 of Carry On (Love Doesn’t Cure All #4)

LINCOLN

Iwas going to hell for laughing at his little brother’s full name.

The bathroom door wasn’t thick enough to hide my laughter, and the look on his face when I came out told me just that.

I made up for it by asking more about him, simple things that showed genuine interest. They were things that didn’t seem like a big deal in the long run, but I still wanted to know him.

His favorite color was cornflower blue.

His mother’s name was Nora.

His father’s name was Mitchell.

His stepmother’s name was Charlotte.

I learned about the deep anger he harbored for his father. Addiction looked different from all sides.

He told me how he called Peter at least once every six months to check in on him because, despite his anger, he did love his little brother.

At some point, I grabbed plates for dinner, but he turned me down and opted for a single slice of bread. I obliged, but it felt odd eating in front of him.

“Why don’t you eat more?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I’ve lived on protein bars, alcohol, and water for years,” Nash said from his spot lying down on the couch. I hadn’t even known that. It certainly explained a lot about his simplistic food choices. “It’s fine, Linc. I’m just not stupid enough to push it more. The coconut made my stomach upset.”

Yes, because the coconut was the problem.

“Probably the cum you dipped it in,” I muttered.

“I didn’t dip it,” he retorted. “You decorated it like icing.”

“Cum flavored icing… that’s a million-dollar bakery idea,” I commented. “Someone somewhere has made that shit a thing. They’re very happy with their decision.”

“Paving the way to your dreams with cum,” he replied, making me laugh.

“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 done that. 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.