Page 58 of Carry On (Love Doesn’t Cure All #4)

NASH

Watching Lincoln talk quietly with Sebastian left an uncomfortable feeling in my chest, something twisted and akin to… jealousy? Maybe? I couldn’t describe it. Not really. It wasn’t a thing I’d ever felt before, but the longer I watched them, the more intense the sour feeling in my stomach built.

Was Lincoln interested in him? Was the feeling mutual? Had they dated? Hooked up?

Why the fuck did it bother me? Lincoln wasn’t mine.

He never will be, the voice said.

I knew that.

You’ll never be worthy of him, it continued.

I knew that too.

Alcohol wasn’t helping quiet the voice this time. Normally, a few drinks were enough to shut it up. To give me some peace and fucking quiet. But, no, tonight it was up and rearing no matter what I did.

The whole night felt normal, painfully so. Dinner and drinks with friends? When was the last time I’d done anything like that? I couldn’t remember. Maybe when I’d served, but even then, I couldn’t remember it. There was only one person I ever had any kind of camaraderie with, but never like this.

Trying to fit in with Lincoln and his friends only served to deepen the line between us.

It was a stark reminder of how I didn’t fit with him.

Sure, on the surface, I could hold my own.

I could be charming. But eventually, the conversations had shifted, turning into things I couldn’t keep up with and didn’t know about.

It was easy to nurse a few drinks and just listen.

And eventually, my desire to be present for Lincoln vanished. I wanted to crawl back to the invisible parts of the world where people didn’t give a fuck. Where I could exist, and I didn’t have to perform to hold my space.

Something else ebbed its way to the surface, some oddly painful understanding that this thing between us had a clock.

I didn’t like trying to fit into his world, but I liked Lincoln.

More than I would ever admit outloud. It wasn’t just how easy it was to use him to feel good.

He was smart and full of compassion. Snarky and softly sweet.

He challenged me and kept me on my toes.

I didn’t deserve him, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like him.

Watching him with Sebastian and Milo reminded me that there was someone out there for him. Someone who understood his world and his life. Someone who belonged with him. I was a broken puzzle piece trying to jam myself into the corners of his life. I didn’t fit.

You’ll never fit, the voice chimed in.

Lincoln’s face broke into a soft smile as he caught me watching him, and my heart did a little flip in my chest. He said a few quick goodbyes to both men before coming to where I stood down the sidewalk away from them.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I see Milo maybe a few times a year, and I always forget how much the kid talks.”

I fell in step alongside him, shoving my hands in my pockets to avoid touching him. The urge to hold his hand was ridiculously strong, but I buried it.

“Did I pass your test?” I asked instead to distract myself.

“It wasn’t a test,” Lincoln scoffed. We turned down a side street, and I welcomed the lack of traffic. The bar wasn’t far from his condo, so we’d decided to walk there. I liked it far better than sitting in a stuffy taxi or his fancy car.

“You took me out to meet your friends to prove to them that we’re a couple,” I pointed out. “That’s a test.”

“Well, when you put it that way.” He chuckled. “I think it’s fine. Sebastian is still… well, he’s Sebastian. He’ll always be a little bit suspicious. That’s just who he is.”

I didn’t like that at all.

“But I did okay, right?”

You sound pathetic, the voice commented.

I did. I knew that. I was so goddamn worried that I was going to blow up his life after all the things he’d done for me. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do to pay him back for what he was doing for me, even if he said I didn’t need to. The least I could do was protect what he’d built for himself.

“You did fine,” Lincoln replied. His shoulder bumped into mine slightly. “Don’t worry so much, Lucky.”

Oh, but all I did was worry. Still, I forced a smile to ease the concern in his expression.

After a quick goodnight, I left Lincoln in the living room to sit outside on the balcony with my guitar. I shut the door in hopes that he wouldn’t follow. While I liked my time with Lincoln, I needed space from him—needed the room to breathe. To think.

The night left my mind reeling uncomfortably, focusing on things I hadn’t thought about in a while. Even strumming on my guitar wasn’t enough to calm the thoughts in my head.

And all of it led me to make the phone call I dreaded making. Obsessed over. It was one I tried to make every so often, and one I worried would go wrong every time.

“Hello?” The sound of Peter’s voice had me faltering. I struggled to come up with what to say. “Well… I’m here, but if you aren’t going to say anything to me, you could just call back, and I’ll let it go to voicemail instead.”

That notion made me chuckle because only Peter would give that kind of option to someone when he picked up a phone.

“Do you ever have anyone take you up on that offer?” I asked.

“Nash?” Peter’s voice rose an entire octave, breaking as it did. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, kid, it is.”

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “Do you know how long it’s been? I thought… I don’t know. I kind of… thought you forgot about me.”

Fuck. I never wanted him to think that.

“I didn’t,” I told him. “I couldn’t.”

I racked my brain for a hot minute, trying to remember when I’d called him last. I did my best to call every six months, but honestly, time was muddled out there. Some weeks, I was lucky if I knew what the fucking day was.

“It’s been almost a year,” Peter said. Fuck, I hadn’t meant for it to be that long between calls.

“I’m sorry.” It was about the only thing I could say, and it wasn’t enough.

It’d never be enough. Despite the shit our dad had pulled with my life, I was grateful for Peter.

He was a good kid with a big heart, and he looked up to me.

I still couldn’t figure out why. Sometimes, the age gap made it hard, especially when he was younger, but he never seemed to care.

And me? I just did my best to be good to him.

I just wasn’t working with a lot to begin with.

“I am sorry, kid. Sometimes, life just…”

“Gets away from you?” he finished for me. “It’s okay. I’m just glad to hear from you.”

Is he, though? the voice blasted its way to the forefront of my mind, fueled by the anxiety of this whole conversation.

I’d never deserve to have this kid as a brother. He was always so damn good about the way I came and went in his life.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “How are you? You doing good?”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, and I could practically hear his goofy smile through the phone. “Things are good. I got my first truck. I’ve been interviewing at a few ranches in the area. Well, not really in the area, but there are a few towns nearby that I’m looking into.”

“Ranches?” I repeated. “Do you think you could make it on a ranch?”

“I like horses.”

“Yeah, but do you like cows?”

“Who doesn’t like cows?”

“I don’t like cows.”

“Are you just saying that to be grumpy, or do you actually not like cows?” Peter demanded. Fuck, this kid was over here calling my ass out. That was new.

“Shit, you got brazen after turning nineteen, didn’t you?” I shot back, making him chuckle.

“Not really,” he replied, “but I also know your bullshit when I hear it.”

“I don’t like cows,” I retorted. “They’re too big, they smell, and I swear to fuck they’re plotting something. What that is? I don’t have a fucking clue. But they’re too damn innocent looking to actually be that innocent.”

“Well, you should try cuddling one,” he said.

“That’s a hard fucking pass from me.” There was no way in hell anyone was ever getting me to cuddle a goddamn cow.

“Maybe you can visit one day, and I’ll take you to meet some cows,” he replied quickly. There was an awkward lull after he said it. “You know… if you ever end up back this way.”

That was the one thing I never told Peter: where I ended up.

I used pay phones or borrowed a phone to make the calls to him.

I always let him believe I was somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t here.

While he knew I wandered a lot, I wasn’t sure he knew I was homeless.

His mom knew, but I didn’t have a clue what she told him, and Peter never said a word about it.

While we talked a few times a year, I hadn’t seen my brother in almost eight years.

Because you’re a crappy brother, the voice reminded me. Selfish… a cruel joke. He doesn’t deserve you.

Yeah, I knew that.

“About that,” I began quietly, “I’m in Seattle.”

“Wait… are you serious?”

“Yeah.” I kept going before I could talk myself out of it. “I’ve got a place here now, and I’m working on getting situated.”

“That’s not that far,” he said.

“About six to seven hours or so,” I agreed. “If you ever wanted to come visit, you could… I’d like that.”

My heart pounded hard in my chest. This was opening a door I wasn’t sure I was ready for him to walk through. I had enough trouble with the way Lincoln was weaseling his way under my skin. Was I really ready for my brother to do the same?

Do you think they want to? the voice replied.

“Yeah!” Peter exclaimed, sounding genuinely excited at the idea.

“Yeah?” I repeated.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he repeated. That single fact left me speechless. So did the way he started prattling on about all the things he wanted to see in Seattle and added it to a list of things we could do when he visited.

Shit, what had I done?