Sara’s eyes collided with his, her lips parting at the intensity of his charcoal gaze.
“You hold on tight from now on, so tight it hurts. Got it? Don’t let go of me, not ever. Don’t worry about hurting me, don’t worry about suffocating me, don’t worry about holding on too tight. You hold on and you never let go. You’ll only hurt me, I’ll only suffocate, if you let go. Promise.” Silver flames sparked in his eyes and Lincoln’s jaw was clenched as he stared her down.
She was burning up from the heat of his gaze. It swept up her body and neck and into her face, warming her. He wasn’t talking about snowmobiling. Sara knew that. What was Lincoln talking about? She lowered her eyes, conflicted by the way she was responding to Lincoln lately, confused by him. She never knew what he was saying to her anymore.
“Promise.”
Sara swallowed, nodding her head. “I promise, Lincoln.”
He blew out a noisy breath, running his fingers through his hair, rumpling it more. “All right.” Lincoln stood, offering her a hand. “You ready to head back or do you want to keep going?”
Sara took his hand and he hauled her to her feet. You ready to head back or do you want to keep going? turned into Do you want to live in the past or do you want to move forward? She stood there, flummoxed.
“Sara?”
“I…” Sara turned toward the way they were going. It was clear and straight and limitless. She turned back to the way they’d come from. It was rough and narrow and littered with possible barriers. Sara faced Lincoln. He stood in the middle of it all, quizzically watching her, waiting for her answer. Go back, go forward. Stay with him, come with me. Was that really what he was asking?
“You want to go back, don’t you?” His tone was flat, as though Lincoln was disappointed, but not surprised.
She squinted her eyes from the sun, turning her gaze to the glistening snow as spots formed before her eyes. “No. Let’s keep going.”
“You sure?”
Taking a deep breath, Sara nodded. “I’m sure.”
Lincoln grinned, his teeth flashing white. “Don’t let go this time.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
As Sara got back on the snowmobile behind Lincoln, she wondered what she was promising she wouldn’t let go of. The past, her husband, or Lincoln?
11
Sara was sleeping, dreaming of blue eyes and warm lips, when the pounding on the door started. She sat up on the couch, flinging the blanket off her. It took a moment for the dream to fade, and along with it, the peace she’d found in sleep; a peace Sara was never truly able to find while awake. She blinked at the door, her eyes unfocused and her brain not completely awake.
She slowly got to her feet, rubbing her matted head of hair. One side was sticking up and the other was mashed to her head. Sara tightened the tie on the old robe as she shuffled to the door. Fighting a yawn, she unlocked the door and opened it, her eyes shying from the sun-filled day.
Lincoln grinned at her, a cup of coffee in each hand. “Rise and shine, sunshine.”
“Don’t you ever work anymore?” she grumbled, moving back to allow him in. Sara was happy to see him. She didn’t want to be happy to see him.
“I took the week off. I can do that. I’m the boss.”
“Slacker.”
“Don’t be crabby.”
“What time is it?”
“Seven-ish”, he said, shrugging his jacket off and bending down to remove his boots.
“I’m allowed to be crabby at seven-ish in the morning.”
Lincoln stood and Sara caught a whiff of his scent. She backed away, moving to the couch. He tugged down his dark blue long-sleeved tee shirt, covering the band of tanned flesh momentarily exposed. Sara flushed, quickly looking away.
He messed his hair up more than it already was with his hand and eyed her sleeping arrangement. “What’s that?” Lincoln asked, pointing to the pillow and blanket.
“A couch.”
“What’s on the couch?” He frowned. “And what are you wearing?”
Sara self-consciously fingered the knotted tie at her waist. “A robe.”
“Are you sure? ‘Cause it looks like a dead animal dyed blue hanging off you. You don’t sleep in your bedroom?”
She stiffened. “It’s none of your business and if you just came over here to badger me, you can leave.”
“Oh, no. Uh-uh. It’s day three.” Lincoln crossed the room to her, softly touching her cheek. “Look at you with your sad brown eyes. I want to take the sadness from them, Sara. Let me today.” His face cleared and his hand fell away. “But first, you need to shower. Your hair looks like rodents could get lost in it.”
Sara took a shuddering breath, remembering she needed air. “I…” Her brain wasn’t cooperating. “What are we doing?”
“Good question.”
She waited, sighing loudly when she realized he wasn’t going to tell her.