Page 54 of Crash
I should’ve asked how his recovery was going, it would’ve been the sensible and kind thing to do, but it was the one thing that would take him away from me. Before long, he would go back to Sydney, and I would be left here—alone.If it wasn’t for all the fear and the back and forth, maybe we would’ve had more time together.Talk about all the elephants in the room.
“Do you miss Dean?”
Lincoln nodded. “Yeah. We’ve never been apart for this long. It’s strange to say the least.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with his palm, his head dipping low.
“You feel like you’re being left behind.” It wasn’t a question, and when Lincoln looked at me, his eyes tinged with sadness, I knew he got the meaning behind my statement.
“You seem to see things others don’t, you know.”
“Did I say the wrong thing? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“Vee, stop being sorry.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just a habit.”
“You just did it again.”
I backed away a step, not sure what to say. I did apologize a lot. I guess it was to do with the blame I placed on myself after the attack. I made a mental note to ask Dr. Ormond about it at our next appointment.
“Have a seat,” he went on. “Dinner is almost ready. This cooks pretty fast.”
The air seemed to have shifted between us suddenly, and I retreated back to the kitchen table, taking a seat and waiting patiently as Lincoln finished up and dished his creation into two big bowls. I began to worry that I’d said the wrong thing, or now that he’d seen more of who I was, he wasn’t interested anymore, and this dinner was just a formality until he could hightail it out of here.
He must’ve felt it too because once he’d placed the bowls on the table, he sat opposite and reached across, placing his hand next to mine, waiting. Shifting my fingers, I brushed them against his, and he took my hand. Squeezing, he let go and picked up a fork.
“Tell me what you think,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked, poking at the pile of chicken and pasta with a fork.
“Chicken, pesto, pasta salad. Or something like that.”
I piled up my fork with a spiral of pasta, a slice of chicken and a little cherry tomato. Without thinking, or giving a stuff how I looked, I shoved it all into my mouth. The tomato burst as I bit into it, and I closed my eyes, tasting the tang of mustard and pesto. It was actually pretty nice. Much better than the microwaved meals I usually made myself.
“I’m taking that as a ‘fuck, yes’,” Lincoln said with a chuckle.
Swallowing, I buried my fork back into the bowl. “What other hidden talents do you have?”
He grinned and shook his head. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
From the look on his handsome face, I gathered they were all naughty, so I didn’t ask any more questions. That was a bridge I was still afraid to step onto, let alone cross.
We ate in silence, just enjoying the food and each other’s company. The whole scene was just…nice. It was a strange sensation being able to sit in silence with somebody and not have it feel weird. Especially when that someone stirred up uncontrollable feelings in your heart and lady bits.
“Done?” he asked, reaching out for my empty bowl.
I nodded as he collected the dishes and loaded it all into the dishwasher.
“That was really good,” I said.
“Yeah? Well, I aim to please.” He crossed the kitchen and stood before me, holding out his hand.
I glanced at his hand, then back up to his face, trying to work out what his game was.
“Just take my hand, Vee,” he said after a moment. He was trying to hide a smile, and I rose to my feet, placing my tiny hand into his big paw.
He led me upstairs, and I couldn’t help but begin to panic slightly at the meaning. People usually went upstairs for…you know. When he led me into my room, I let go of his hand. I glanced at the bed, beginning to feel the pressure. Eventually, he’d want more, but would I be ready for it?
“You seem more comfortable here,” he explained, and I turned back to him.
