Page 9 of Carry On
And nothing good could come from being at the center of Lincoln’s.
CHAPTER 07
LINCOLN
IwatchedhimbecauseIwasn’t sure what else to do. I wasn’t sure how to approach him, or if I even should. Our last encounter hadn’t exactly gone smoothly.
Instead, I took my coffee break alone to sit across the street on a bus bench and pretended there wasn’t a wad of gum stuck on the armrest. People were truly disgusting. There was no way in hell I’d be sitting there if it wasn’t for the way Nash had been across the street for the better part of two hours.
Was it creepy that I watched him? Probably. It certainly bordered on illegal, considering I’d followed him to this specific location. It was two blocks over from the coffee shop, and I was only here to watch him. Stare at him. Study him.
Admire him.
He was tragically handsome in a way that was visibly broken. It was in the way he played, his fingers dancing endlessly over the guitar strings. The music he created was laced with his soul—melancholy and disconnected from the rest of the world. It was utterly captivating.
Hewas utterly captivating.
I could say whatever the hell I wanted, but Nash Calhoun had all of my attention and then some. And it had nothing to do with my uncle telling me.
Even as his fingers slipped, skating awkwardly over the strings, he was still impressive. I could see his frustration from where I sat. If only he realized that not a single other person noticed. They noticedhim, but not necessarilywhathe was doing.
Something akin to disgust weaved its way through my chest as I watched people do everything they could to avoid him. They gave him a wide berth, passed on the other side of the street, and so on. A few tossed money in his guitar case, but that was it.
As I sipped my coffee, I considered just how much right I had to be angry at the whole ordeal. Wasn’t I the same kind of person? Toss a few bucks, say nothing, and go on with my day? Wasn’t that what we all did? Didn’t we all judge people in brief moments and create social divides accordingly? Would I have stopped to pay attention if he were anyone else?
I was stuck in my head, the questions building on themselves, when Nash stopped playing. His head lifted slightly. Those green eyes collided with mine, his gaze intense and indescribable. I sucked in a sharp breath as I held it.
I’d spent a lot of time with people of morally questionable backgrounds, but never had I met anyone with a stare as intense as his. It stilled me. Peeled me apart like he could see right through all the walls and layers I’d built to protect myself.
The world slowed to an invisible crawl as we held each other’s gazes. His expression was unreadable. I found myself wishing I could figure out what was going through his head. Or at least wishing that I could pick up on some identifiable emotion on his handsome face.
But he gave away nothing as he broke eye contact and went right back to strumming his guitar for people who didn’t deserve that piece of him. And me? I just sat there watching because I didn’t know what else to do.
CHAPTER 08
NASH
Thealleyofferedsilenceand shadows, both things I craved and desperately needed as the pain in my head increased. I didn’t have a clue what the fucking time was, and I struggled to figure it out. The day had crawled by, most of it was spent with Lincoln watching me while I fumbled my way through one pathetic note after another. Only when the pain became too much to manage, pressing in on my vision, did I make myself leave. I took the bit of money I’d made and bought painkillers along with a bottle of water. The over-the-counter shit rarely worked, but sometimes it took just enough of the edge off.
You’re supposed to suffer, the voice reminded me.
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing the stupid voice to go to sleep. Just for a bit. I just needed a breather. Needed the silence so I could sleep.
I just wanted to sleep. To be done with the pain and throbbing. To be done with the stupid way the world weighed down on me.
Even as I lay there with my eyes closed, I felt the change around me. Awareness prickled across the back of my neck as I felt the movement in the dark.
Someone was there.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I growled, never once opening my eyes. My hand fell to my bag protectively.
No response.
I opened one eye to see a pair of wide brown eyes staring at me, frozen in fear and tearing up. Fuck. The kid had to be no more than ten or twelve, wearing clothes too big for her thin frame.
“What’re you doing out here?” I demanded. A kid that young didn’t belong creeping up on a strange man in a dark alley.
“I’m just hungry,” she whispered with a tremble in her pitiful voice. “You were sleeping, and I just thought…”
