Page 66 of Carry On (Love Doesn’t Cure All #4)

NASH

Other than a wicked need to take a piss, I felt okay.

According to the alarm clock, it was early, but I couldn’t stay in bed another minute.

The headache was gone, and I was restless.

I splashed cold water on my face and combed my fingers through my tangled hair.

I looked like hell, but at least I didn’t feel like it thanks to Lincoln.

I wasn’t used to being taken care of like this. I was used to struggling it out wherever I was without knowing what might happen to me in the process. Lincoln wanting to take care of me was… nice.

Obligated to take care of you, the voice commented.

I sighed and closed my eyes, frustrated at how it ebbed its way to the surface. It had been silent when I woke up, and a tiny, optimistic part of me had hoped for a reprieve. To hope was such a stupid thing. I just wasn’t that lucky.

I blew out a long breath and forced myself out of the bedroom. Lincoln hurried around the living room, gathering the files and paperwork he had spread out between the coffee table and the dining table. He looked good in his fancy fucking suit, a little frazzled but good.

Something foreign weaseled its way through my chest. Something akin to fondness. Maybe. I wasn’t used to the feeling.

“Oh. Hi.” He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw me. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “I don’t think I could sleep any fucking longer.”

“Understandable,” Lincoln said. He went back to packing up his briefcase as he spoke. “I have to go to court today. I can’t push it back. After that, I have to go into the office to catch up on work. I’m hoping that I won’t be too late, but I might be. I’ll have my personal phone on me—I’m sorry.”

He stopped, stood upright, and blew out a slow breath.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A lot better than you, I think,” I replied. “Do you need any help with… whatever the fuck you’ve got going on here?”

“I was up late working… everywhere,” he told me, waving around the room. Even as he spoke, he gathered the last few pieces of scattered papers.

“Clearly.”

“I had so much shit to catch up on.”

That’s your fault, the voice said.

Yeah, it probably was, considering everything he’d done for me.

“Can I help at all?” It was a stupid question. I had no idea how I could help him with his job.

“Oh, you’re good,” Lincoln told me. “I just need to get out of here. If you need anything, I’ll have both my personal and work phones on. Just text me, call me, send a fucking pigeon, whatever.”

“Ah, the pigeons.” I chuckled.

“All you have to do is monologue, and they’ll listen,” he retorted, making me laugh harder. “It’s good to hear you laugh.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It’s not a big deal,” he replied.

“You didn’t have to go that far just to help me, Linc.”

“I know.” He smiled, easy and genuine. Fuck, I liked his smile—a lot. “But I wanted to.”

Did he? the voice countered.

I shoved it down as much as I could, trying to push away the worry that he didn’t mean what he said. Lincoln was a man of words. When he spoke, he meant them. I just had to keep remembering that.

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need me,” he reiterated as he walked in my direction.

Hand on my forearm, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

The gesture of affection was quick and natural, but it made my brain glitch because this wasn’t us.

At least, it wasn’t supposed to be. From the look on his face, he had the same thought.

“Did you just—”

“Nope!” Lincoln answered curtly. He turned fast and strode straight to the front door. “Have a good day, Nash.”

He was out of the condo before I could reply. That still didn’t stop the small smile that damn kiss left me with.