“No.”
“Come on, Sara. I’ll help you. You know I will. Take my hand. Take it.”
Sara blinked her eyes, turning away.
“You’ll never heal if you don’t face what hurts you.”
She whirled around. “How can I heal when I know he’s about to die, Lincoln?” Sara hissed, storming toward him. “I can’t heal from that. It’s like he’s dying all over again, twice.”
His eyes darkened with grief and anger. “He left a long time ago, Sara. You know that.” A muscle jumped under Lincoln’s eye. “It pisses me off that he did what he did.”
Sara jerked back. “What?”
“It wasn’t fair what he did, giving you a countdown, dragging it out for a year. You’re stuck in limbo. You can’t go back, you can’t go forward. And…there he lies on that bed, a shell of himself, a piece of who he used to be, but not him. It’s not him.”
“He did it—” Teardrops fell from her eyes and her throat tightened, making it hard to talk. “He did it to give us time, to give him a chance to come back.”
“But he hasn’t. And he’s not.” Lincoln’s eyes watered and he took a ragged breath. “Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better. He would have shown improvement by now if he was going to. I understand why Cole had his will set up that way. I understand the hope he had that if anything like this would happen, he would somehow recover.
“It wasn’t fair of him to do that to you though. It was selfish of him, making you wait, making you watch him die. You can’t heal from the loss of him when he’s lingering, not really alive, and not really dead. And you have to heal. You can’t live like this. You’re…you’re…” Lincoln closed his eyes, rubbing his face.
“I’m in the room,” she whispered. It was unbearable to see Lincoln in such pain. He hid it so well. Take it away, Sara, somehow take it away.
He opened his eyes, showing Sara his sorrow even when he smiled faintly. “That you are, Sara,” Lincoln said quietly, not reaching out a hand this time.
Sara reached for his instead, linking them. The room wasn’t so overwhelming with Lincoln in it. The world wasn’t so tragic with him before her, holding her hands. Sara even thought maybe she could get through anything if Lincoln were with her. Their eyes connected, and in the strength of his gaze, she found hers.
“What has the last few days been like?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Yes, you do. Tell me. Did you have fun at all?”
“I guess.”
“Did you forget to be sad, did you laugh, did you smile?”
“Maybe.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “You can still miss him; you can still mourn him, without giving up your life. You just have to have a reason to keep going.”
Sara stared at him, her brows furrowing at the truth of his words; at the fact that Lincoln was the reason she had to not give up. She turned away, not wanting it to be true and unable to deny it. He was it for her. It was Lincoln. How had that happened? Maybe it couldn’t have been anyone else, or any other way. Maybe it had to be him.
“Sara?”
“Thank you, Lincoln,” she said quietly, facing him once more.
He looked down. “I’d do anything for you, Sara.” Lincoln’s head lifted. “You have to know that.”
She did. Sara closed her eyes, nodding. “I know.”
“I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Even when you don’t want me to be. Even when you don’t think you need me to be, or you don’t think you deserve me to be. I’ll never leave you.”
Sara touched a wayward lock of his, surprised by how soft his hair was. He went still, his gaze locked with hers. She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. But Sara smiled. It was enough.
“Come here,” Lincoln said in a gruff voice, moving toward the bed.
“What are you doing?” she asked warily, watching him as he sat down on the bed.
“I’m not trying to seduce you, if that’s what you think. As much as your blue rag turns me on, I will somehow manage to restrain myself.” Lincoln patted the bed, his eyebrows raised.
“I don’t—I can’t…” Sara shook her head, her chest tightening painfully. It was all wrong; Lincoln on their bed. It would be ever more wrong if she joined him on it.
“Just come here. Please.”
Sara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and gingerly sat down on the bed as far away from Lincoln as she could get without falling off it.
“See? Not so bad, right?” He stretched his long-limbed body out and put his hands behind his head. “Your turn.”
It was too intimate. Sara couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even lie down on the bed by herself, let alone with a man other than her husband next to her.
“Sara.”
“You’re evil,” she muttered, lying down on the bed, her hands on either side of her body. Her arms and legs were stiff, immobile, like she was frozen by some kind of tragic spell.
“Close your eyes.” Lincoln’s voice was low, hypnotic.
“No.”