Page 54 of Carry On
CHAPTER 39
NASH
Thenewworkbootssent me over the edge. I didn’t know why, but they fucking did. Shirts, pants, underwear, socks. Shampoo, conditioner, body soap. This stupid man bought me everything. It didn’t even matter that we went to a cheap store. The final cost of everything was obscene, and I’d sucked it up through the whole process.
But somehow, him buying me a new pair of work boots was the final straw.
I’d worked my ass off to earn my own boots. I’d spent weeks playing in as many places as possible just to buy a thirty-dollar pair of boots. And now I was supposed to what? Just throw them away like they never meant a thing?
Your shit isn’t worth anything,the voice commented.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t, but it was still my stuff.
I liked my stuff, whatever little bit I had. It was mine. I liked what was mine. I didn’t need Lincoln coming in and messing everything up. Changing everything.
Changing me.
It’s not like he wants you the way you are,the voice said.
Lincoln and I were two wildly different people from two different walks of life. There was no way he wanted someone like me—not the way I was.That much was obvious from how hard he pushed to change everything about me.
I didn’t look like myself.
I didn’t feel like myself.
I didn’t know who I was, but it sure as fuck wasn’t whoever Lincoln was trying to turn me into.
Letting out a sound of frustration, I dropped onto a park bench overlooking the water. The park near Lincoln’s condo was quiet with a pond that offered a view. It was something to distract me from how Lincoln and his stupid boots ate away at every corner of my mind.
I fell asleep on the bench, wrapped up in a new flannel and wearing boots that weren’t mine. Instead of going back to Lincoln’s, I stayed there all night. Thankfully, no one came and told me to move on. When the sun rose, I made myself get up. I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I’d been an asshole to Lincoln, and I didn’t know how to go back to his place. How the fuck did I explain this?
You’re a fuck up,the voice said.You don’t need to say anything more than that. He knows.
And as if summoned on cue, Lincoln was there, just standing by the water with a coffee in hand. His back was to me. Of course, he’d find me. I should’ve expected that.
Running my fingers through my knotted hair, I stood with a sigh. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walked over and stopped beside him. He remained silent and waited. Great. I had to do the talking.
He didn’t fuck up, you did,the voice reminded me.You always do.
“Ground rule number six: no more spending money on me,” I said quietly. “Not like that.”
“Okay,” Lincoln replied, nodding slightly.
“And I’ll get a fucking job,” I continued. I could get a goddamn job. Hopefully. “I don’t need you to rescue me, Linc. I’m a grown ass man. I can crawl out of the hole myself.”
“I’m just helping to put a rope down in the hole.”
“I don’t want your noose disguised under false pretenses,” I retorted. At that, he turned, moving in front of me to make sure I was looking at him. The severe expression on his face was intense.
“Let’s get something straight, Nash,” he bit out. “I’m not the guy who will ever give you false pretenses. Yes, I have money, and I will spend it on you when necessary. To help you. I don’t expect to see any of it back. It’s a gift that I’m not asking you to return.”
I held my tongue because I’d probably say something stupid.
“The only one spewing cyanide here is you,” Lincoln continued. “So rule number seven: I will not be your punching bag. Not now, not ever. If you have a problem with me or anything happening between us, use the emotional maturity of a man your age to communicate with me.”
That was fair, especially considering his history. And it wasn’t fair to him for me to treat him otherwise, not when he’d opened his home to me. Fuck, I wasn’t good at this.
