Page 93 of Carry On
CHAPTER 62
LINCOLN
Hebroughtmedinner.Well, heboughtme dinner. I knew for a fact he didn’t have much, nor did he use the card to my account that I’d given him. Instead, he used what little money he had from playing to buy me dinner. That did something wicked to my heart. Even if it wasjust sandwicheslike he’d said, it was the thought that mattered.
And it was the best damn sandwich I’d ever had.
How long had it been since anyone did something like this for me? I pushed that thought away, doing my best to make it disappear forever. I needed to keep my heart out of all matters Nash-related.
The park was one I’d passed a handful of times. There were chess tables and picnic spots with people mingling about. The only open spot was at a chess table with weathered stone pieces.
“For the sake of not being assholes,” Nash began around a small bite, “we’re playing chess.”
“Do you know how to play chess?” I countered. I knew very little about the game, just enough to get by and barely at that.
“I do quite well,” he replied. At my surprised expression, he added, “There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, Lincoln.”
Wasn’t that the truth? It wasn’t for a lack of want, either. The longer we did this thing, the more I wanted to know about him. There was a fine linebetween getting to know each other for the sake of our story and getting personal.
“Don’t worry, pudding-pop,” Nash said, “I’ll go easy on you.”
“Absolutely not,” I snapped quickly, making him laugh. It was hard to hate the stupid names when he laughed like that. “Never fucking call me that.”
“You got it, sunshine.” He took a bite of his sandwich while I openly glared at him. “Yeah, that look won’t work on me, kitten.”
“I hate you a little bit right now,” I told him. Taking a quick bite, I did my best to set the pieces up correctly, but every once in a while, he’d reach over and fix it for me. He never said a word, but I paid attention nonetheless. As I moved my first pawn, I commented, “It always surprises me how the pieces never go missing.”
I’d passed through the park a handful of times. There were six tables with chessboards glued down, and they always had all the pieces. That was nothing short of a miracle.
“I’m not. Chess is about respect and vulnerability.” He moved his piece while I just arched a brow. What the hell did that mean? “Just think about it. You move in tandem with the other player, figuring each other out while simultaneously understanding that in the end… only one of you will survive. Who that is… well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
He fell silent for a moment as we moved more pieces around the board, with him knocking out several of mine.
“You acknowledge that every play you make means racing toward an uncertain end,” Nash continued softly. “You’re left clinging to a hope that you’ll be the one who survives…”
I took one of his pawns.
“… but maybe you won’t. Maybe the other person destroys you little by…” He knocked out my rook. “… little. Or maybe both of you destroy each other…”
And there went my knight.
“… chipping away at each other piece by piece until there’s almost nothing left,” he said with an odd hollowness in his voice. Despite the game in front of us, he was a million miles away. “It’s a battle that tests just how much you can take before you give in and give up.”
I just watched him as he fell silent, uncertain of how deeply I should interpret his words. There were moments where he said things so profoundly intense that it made me uncomfortable. Those things were red flags rising out of the darkness of his mind. I was left teetering the line of did I push, only to watch him retreat, or did I brush it off and pretend he hadn’t said the words. I usually did the latter, but I never forgot, though. They were the things I carefully catalogued because these were the moments that he peeled back the curtain of his mind. These were the moments I caught a glimpse of the darkness he was battling.
“It’s just chess, Lucky,” I said to keep it casual. I knew it wasn’t worth poking him.
“Yeah,” Nash relented quickly with a nod. “People just… take it seriously. That’s all I was trying to say.”
“Yeah,” I agreed quietly.
“But not you.” He cracked a grin that didn’t meet those rich green eyes of his—the kind that was so forced that there was no good way to play it off. Still, I gave him the grace of doing so. “You’re in checkmate, bugaboo.”
“What—no!”
“No to checkmate?”
“No to—well, yes—I mean no to that too!” I exclaimed, flustered. “And no to bugaboo. What the fuck is that shit?”
