Page 87 of Carry On (Love Doesn’t Cure All #4)
LINCOLN
Nash was gone.
Nash was just… gone.
My brain couldn’t comprehend that. I knew it, but I didn’t want to know it.
Tears had long since dried up. I didn’t have anything left in me, but I couldn’t move either.
I just sat there, curled over Nash’s body, trying to soak up whatever little bit of time I had left with him like it’d make a difference.
Like I didn’t have to suddenly figure out how to move on from this moment.
“Hey,” Dean whispered. His hand smoothed between my shoulder blades. “We have to let them take him.”
“I don’t…” My voice broke.
“I know, Lincoln,” he said. “But it’s time, okay?”
He was right—I hated that he was right.
“Okay.” I didn’t want to, but I made myself sit up. Dean held onto my forearms lightly as he watched me closely. “I…”
I drew in a sharp breath, scrambling to try and regain some semblance of control. I couldn’t fall apart all over again.
“I know,” he replied softly. “I know, Lincoln. I know.”
At least one of us did. Everything was numb as I let him help me stand. Every time I faltered, desperate to collapse right back to the floor next to him, Dean kept me upright. He whispered small words of encouragement and directions, walking me across the condo.
“Where is everyone?” I asked when he sat me down in the bathroom and shut the door. I reached for it, wanting to open it—wanting to see—but he caught my wrist.
“You don’t want to watch, Lincoln,” Dean said. “You don’t need that as your last memory.”
A last memory…
Those words hit like a truck, slamming into me hard, and I drew in a shuddering breath. My eyes burned all over again, and I blinked rapidly.
“I don’t want a last memory,” I admitted pathetically. “I don’t want a last anything.”
“I know.” He grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom closet and turned on the sink.
I zoned in and out of it, trying to crawl back from the slippery slope I was sliding down. I lost sight of everything as I began to obsessively replay the day through my head.
The day.
The week.
The month.
I obsessed over every little detail, trying to figure out where I’d gone wrong. Why hadn’t I seen it? Why hadn’t I paid better attention?
“Lincoln.” Dean’s voice cut through the haze. He knelt in front of me and brushed the warm rag over my cheeks, wiping away the tear stains. It wouldn’t help when I couldn’t stop crying.
“What did I do wrong?” I managed to say.
“You didn’t—”
“I did,” I insisted over him. “Maybe if I’d paid better attention… or done more or…”
“You couldn’t save him, Lincoln,” Dean interjected. The words cut like razors, and I squeezed my eyes shut. “You did everything you could, but sometimes… sometimes it just isn’t enough.”
I fell apart, my head falling to his shoulder as I broke down sobbing all over again. I wanted it to be enough.
Dean stayed for hours to be whatever I didn’t know I needed. Eventually, I asked him to leave. I needed space.
At least, I thought I did.
In his absence, I stared at my living room floor—just stared at the spot where Nash died.
I didn’t sleep.
I couldn’t eat.
I just kept staring throughout the night as the deafening silence around me was mind-numbingly suffocating. Nash’s absence weighed heavily on me. It was as if the world shifted completely, permanently set askew.
All I had left were memories and a room full of perfectly organized things. His things. He’d taken the time to organize his room. Clothes were neatly folded, ready to be packed away. His guitar lay on the bed alongside his phone and a letter addressed to Peter.
The understanding was unbearable.
He’d planned to take his life.
Everything was so carefully attended to.
He’d packed away all the little parts of him to make it easier on me.
As I trailed my fingers over the curve of his old guitar, it hit me.
I love you, Lincoln…
It was all a goodbye that I’d had no idea I was participating in.
And did he know? Did he know how I felt? That I loved him?
I grabbed his phone and touched the screen, watching the home screen light up. The only thing on the screen was a notification.
Two new voicemails…
A sob escaped me, and my knees buckled. I sank to the ground, clinging to the phone.
He didn’t know.
I should’ve said the words back.
I should’ve told him that I love him.
My fingers brushed against tape on the back of the phone, and I turned it over. A scrap of paper was crudely taped over the case with a note in his handwriting.
Watch the first video.
I frowned as I ran my thumb over the scrawled note. What the hell did that mean? I rubbed at my cheek with my sleeve as I opened up the photo app on his phone and clicked on the first video.
It was just him with his guitar and the phone propped up.
“Hey, baby…” Nash began. Just the sound of his voice had another wave of emotion crashing through me. I paused the video as another sob tore through me.
“Fuck,” I let out, struggling to catch my breath.
I could do this.
I could…
I didn’t know how I was going to.
Still, I started the video once more.
“Hey, baby,” Nash began. He glanced down, fingers lazily plucking the strings of his guitar.
“Truth be told, Lincoln… I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.
I don’t know how to make any of this make sense to you.
I’m so tired. I’m tired of being in pain…
. tired of fighting. I’ve been fighting for so long…
I just don’t have anything else left to fight with.
I tried… for you, I tried. You couldn’t have saved me. No one could.”
Quiet music filled the room. I silently sobbed and turned up the volume, needing more from him.
“The only thing I have to leave you with is my music. I’ve recorded as many songs and snippets here as I can for you,” he said.
Fuck, how many times had I caught him doing exactly that? How many little signs had I missed along the way?
“I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I love you, Lincoln,” Nash whispered. “For the first time in my life, I lived up to my namesake because of you… for the first time in my life, I was lucky.”
I set the phone on the ground, losing any chance I had of holding it together. I buried my face in my arms and cried as beautifully sad notes washed over me.