Page 133 of Carry On
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.
CHAPTER 87
LINCOLN
Iwaitedanentiredayof sitting, staring, and zoning out before making myself call Charlotte. Dean had offered to do it for me, but I knew it had to be me, no matter how difficult it was. I told myself I could handle it—that I was strong enough to make the call—but the minute I heard her voice, I wasn’t sure I could do it.
“Lincoln?” she said my name again, and I blinked back tears. What a fucking way to start the day.
“Uh….” I blew out a slow breath. Fuck, I could do this. “Um…”
My voice cracked, and I knew there was no way I could do this without falling apart.
“Lincoln,” Charlotte began softly, “is it Nash?”
Her intuition killed me.
“Yeah…”
“Did he…” Her voice trailed off as I let out the smallest sound of affirmation. “Oh, honey.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and did my best to get myself under control. I had to be able to get through this phone call. Crying wouldn’t tell her anything.
“Can I ask how?” she whispered.
“Uh… he um…fuck.” I ran a hand over my face. “He overdosed while I was at work.”
“Oh, my sweet boy…” She sniffled, and the sound was a punch straight to the gut.
What if I hadn’t gone to that stupid meeting?
What if instead of calling him, I had come home?
Could I have saved him?
What if I never went to work at all and stayed in bed with him?
Would that have been enough?
The what-ifs were an endless torture I couldn’t escape.
“And you?” Charlotte asked. “How are you holding up, Lincoln?”
“I don’t…” I cleared my throat. Why the fuck did this have to be so hard? “I don’t know right now.”
