She inhaled deeply, taking in his unflinching gaze. “You’re better at it than I am.”
Lincoln flashed a quick grin. “I’m better at a lot of things than you are.”
“Thanks,” Sara said, snorting a little.
“I’m sorry about the other night. About the way I’ve been acting lately.”
“It’s okay, Lincoln.”
“It’s not okay, Sara.” He sighed and then gently bumped his forehead to hers and stepped back. “Get your stuff on. I’ll be outside waiting.”
Sara walked toward the closet as Lincoln went outside. Her heart was hurting, not because of that hated date getting closer every day, but for another reason. Lincoln was shoving life back into her, in spite of what she thought she wanted, in spite of her wishes. She could continue to fight it, but Sara knew it was pointless. Lincoln was…Lincoln. She was so thankful for him, even as aggravating as he was. He managed to put everything into perspective; he managed to make her see what she couldn’t see on her own. What about what he doesn’t want you to see?
***
It was loud. The engine was fast and high-pitched and so loud Sara could barely hear her own thoughts, which was a blessing. She held on to Lincoln, her arms wrapped around his waist, trees and hills passing them by in a blur. Sara closed her eyes, feeling the snowmobile’s power underneath her, Lincoln’s solid back against her front, the way her legs straddled the back of his. The windshield of the helmet fogged every now and then, showing how cold it was outside her snowmobile geared body, but it quickly dispersed, once again giving her a view of fluffy snow and countryside.
Lincoln and he had always liked their toys; be they motorcycles or boats or snowmobiles. In that way they were as one. Sara had never understood that need to disconnect from the world with speed and what she’d considered unnecessary wildness, but now, she kind of did. It was liberating, to go so fast, to forget about obligations and reality and just feel.
The trail was narrow and rough and at times Sara knocked into Lincoln, her helmet clunking against his. Up and up the hill they climbed, Sara adjusting her body to Lincoln’s, moving with him around turns and corners. Then they were wide open, nothing but space on either side of them. Lincoln cranked on the accelerator and they were soaring. Sara laughed, tipping her head back. Free. She felt free. She wanted to bottle the feeling up and take it with her. Sara hadn’t felt so guiltless, so alive, in a long time.
She didn’t know she’d loosened her grip until they hit a bump and the snowmobile went up and slammed down, dumping her off the sled and into a snow bank. Sara landed on her back, the air knocked from her lungs. She lay there, wondering if she was okay or not, wondering if it really mattered. Nothing hurt. She flipped the windshield up and stared at a blue sky, mirth bubbling up her throat. That’s how Lincoln found her; lying on her back, laughing.
Lincoln jumped off the snowmobile before it was completely stopped, sprinting for her, snow flying up behind him. He fell to his knees in the snow beside her. “What the hell, Sara? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he shouted through his helmet, the windshield of it flipped up.
Sara looked at the wild, panicked look in his eyes and laughed harder. She didn’t know why. It seemed the sensible thing to do.
“Fuck! Are you hurt?” Lincoln grabbed her shoulders and shook. “Would you stop laughing and say something? Are you okay? Sara.” He fumbled with strap under her chin and yanked the helmet from her head, cupping the back of her neck with his gloved hands. “Are you okay, Sara?” Lincoln asked slowly, his voice shaking.
Sara went quiet, the smile fading from her lips, when she saw, really saw, what Lincoln couldn’t or wouldn’t hide. He was scared. For her. And not just scared, but out of his mind scared. His lips were pressed into a thin, white line and his eyes had a haunted cast to them.
“I’m okay, Lincoln,” she said softly.
The relief on his face hit her hard, the tension leaving his body as he pulled her close. Lincoln was trembling. He muttered something, using one hand to tear his helmet off, tossing it into the snow, the other hand never releasing her. “I thought you were hurt. You were just lying there. I thought you’d broken something or were seriously injured. What happened?” he said into her hair, clutching her to his chest.
Cold air stung her cheeks, snow from Lincoln’s gloves brushed against her neck, chilling her. “I’m fine. I’m sorry. I just…I wasn’t holding on tight enough.” Sara gently pushed at his chest and Lincoln let her go.
He swallowed. “Promise me something, Sara.”