Page 68 of Carry On (Love Doesn’t Cure All #4)

NASH

Istormed straight for the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. If I was going to even begin thinking about Lincoln’s unintentional confession, I needed the voice in my head to shut the fuck up long enough to let me think.

As the whiskey went down easily, I started pacing.

“Just shut up and let me love you.”

Those were his exact words.

Did Lincoln love me? Was it just a phrase? An accident.

He can’t love you, the voice commented.

I chased that intrusive thought with another shot of whiskey.

For one moment, I just wanted to think without intrusion because at some point, that man was going to come out of the bedroom. I needed to figure out what to say to him. I needed to figure out how I felt about his words.

Lincoln consumed me. There was no doubt of that. I craved his presence and felt his absence deeply. The connection was there, but I didn’t know what that connection was. Truthfully, I didn’t have a clue how to connect with people. Lincoln was no exception to that.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to.

Do you, though? the voice asked.

Another shot of whiskey went down just as quickly.

Yes, I fucking did. I just didn’t know how to do it. I had zero experience in the relationship department. I’d hooked up a bit when I was younger and avoided people like the plague as an adult. I never understood the appeal of a relationship. Maybe there was something wrong with me.

But I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying this weird dynamic with Lincoln. I liked having him around, and I liked doing things for him. I still strongly believed the man was too good to be with me, but what if he wanted to?

Could that notion be enough?

I glanced at his bedroom door. He’d been in there quite a while. I didn’t care that all the food had gone cold. I just wanted to know what he was up to. I wanted to know that he was okay.

Leaving the whiskey behind, I knocked on his door.

Nothing.

“Lincoln?” I said as I knocked a second time and waited. Still nothing. His lack of response made me frown. I tried again. “Lincoln, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, short and curt.

Yeah, he wasn’t fine. The look on his face as he realized what he’d said had been enough to tell me the man was minutes away from panicking. Considering his history, it made sense. It also made me hate the door between us.

“I’m coming in, Lincoln,” I announced as a courtesy. I didn’t give him a chance to argue with me as I opened the door. Thank fuck, it wasn’t locked. Maybe that was a good sign.

Or maybe he just forgot in his pursuit to leave you, the voice replied.

I bit that bitter thought back because some part of it was right. Lincoln had changed into a navy sweatshirt and jeans, a look I liked on him. What I didn’t like was the duffel bag on his bed, sitting wide open as he neatly packed it.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I just… I need some space to get my head on straight,” Lincoln murmured.

“Linc—”

“It’s fine,” he said over me. “I’m fine… I’ll be fine.”

The progression of commentary wasn’t lost on me.

And in that moment, I knew I wanted a relationship with this man. I didn’t have a clue what that looked like, but I wanted it. More than anything, I wanted to fix all the crappy things that had him feeling like this. I wanted to soothe the chaos in his mind and make him feel safe.

I wanted him to run home to me, not away from me.

I crossed the room, closing the distance between the two of us, and covered his hand with mine when he started to zip up his bag.

“Lincoln,” I began, but he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he replied quickly. The tightness in his voice wrapped around my heart like an unforgiving vice. “Please, don’t…”

I knew he expected me to bring up the accidental confession—to make a big deal out of that. His fear was something I understood.

“What if we tried?” I suggested, keeping my voice soft. His gaze flicked to mine as confusion overtook his expression.

He’s trying to run away from you, the voice interjected.

I did my best to push it back.

“You and me, I mean,” I clarified.

“I don’t…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what that looks like.”

“I don’t either,” I admitted. But I’d lived in war zones. This had to be easier, right? “I don’t have any experience in the dating department, but I think we should try. I like you, Lincoln, a lot more than I thought I would.”

My heart hammered anxiously in my chest with the admission. Vulnerability was the bane of my existence, but for him, I’d try. Day after day, I realized there was a lot I’d do for Lincoln—things I’d never wanted to do for anyone.

“I can’t,” Lincoln whispered with another small shake of his head.

See? the voice cut in. He doesn’t want you.

“Okay.” Releasing him, I retreated across the room to put some immediate space between us.

“I don’t know how, Nash,” he continued, his voice so soft I barely heard him.

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I lied once more. It wasn’t okay.

It felt like tearing out pieces of my heart and crushing them for the hell of it.

I didn’t understand the way I felt. I’d never let anyone have this kind of power over me.

Somehow, he’d flitted right through all my barriers without me realizing it, and I’d let him.

But it was Lincoln. I’d take anything from him.