Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 99949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Fake Theo was good at not hiding. He said the right things at the right time.
Lincoln wasn’t so good at hiding. At least not at the moment because his eyes exposed his confusion for several seconds before going blank.
“Yeah, I did say that,” he responded before rising to his feet.
I should have been pleased at my victory but something about the way Lincoln looked at me just before he turned away made my stomach tighten. I could feel the fake balance inside me shake.
No, not happening. He doesn’t get to see any more of me.
Unfortunately, the words didn’t do much to stabilize me. I could feel that tightrope beneath my feet being stripped away from me bit by bit. I managed to hold out long enough for Lincoln to leave the room via the connecting bathroom, but the second he was out of sight, I threw back the covers to reveal my left thigh. I began pounding the same spot on my outer thigh as hard as I could. It took nearly a dozen strikes before I felt that tightrope widening again. The chaotic tornado was still there beneath me, but I wasn’t at risk of falling into its roaring darkness anymore.
I threw the covers back over my leg just seconds before Lincoln returned.
Only he was empty-handed. He gave me a quick glance before saying, “Damn bag’s in here.” He shook his head slowly and in a self-deprecating voice said, “Idiot.”
He returned to the bed with the bag and quickly got what he needed from it. As he wrapped my arm, he began issuing instructions about not getting the bandage wet and to let him know if I felt or saw any signs of infection. It was the same speech I’d heard from the ER doctors who’d had to do the same thing for the pathetic, broken kid who liked cutting himself with razors.
The tightrope began to shake beneath me again.
“All done,” Lincoln said as he secured the bandaging. “Let’s get this out too,” he added as he motioned to the IV port on the back of my hand. He gave me a little smile and then went to work removing the IV and covering the small injection site with a bandage. “That should do it. Any questions?” His voice was patient but emotionless.
I shook my head and tried to pull Fake Theo back together for the next part but there was no next part. Lincoln gave me a simple nod, gathered his things and left the room. There were no words about how I could talk to him about anything, no probing questions about why I did what I did, no pleas for me to never do it again. He was there one minute and gone the next.
Fake Theo had done his job.
Easily.
I listened as the door on Lincoln’s side of the joint bathroom shut.
Maybe too easily?
CHAPTER SEVEN
LINCOLN
I didn’t see Theo for a week after the episode in his room.
The one where he’d so easily slipped into an artificial version of himself.
The one where he’d used his fist to pound on some part of his body to escape the pain that was ripping him to shreds inside. I’d heard every strike of that fist. He may as well have been punching me in the gut. To know that I’d done something to cause him to take his rage out on himself had shattered me to my core.
I was always the guy who knew what to do in most any situation. I knew what to do in a medical emergency. Hell, I knew how to deal with just about anything. I’d seen so much death—felt it—that it had grounded me; it had taught me patience, compassion, and the ability to stay calm in any situation. I knew how to take control. Whether it was when my unit had come under heavy fire as I’d treated a fallen brother-in-arms, or when I was explaining to a family what to expect as they watched their loved one take their last breaths.
But Theo… I had no fucking clue how to deal with Theo. Every time I’d managed to steal past the armor he wore around him to shield from the real world, I’d felt that knot inside my belly that had somehow become a fixture within me from the second I’d shaken Theo’s hand loosen just a little bit. Those moments had been like the warm sun caressing my skin or a wisp of cool air dancing across my face.
Then that trap snapped shut and I was once again left in the darkness.
None of it made any fucking sense.
I hadn’t spoken to Theo after I’d declared him on the mend to the makeshift family that had made Cam and Ford’s house into a home.
Not even to check his arm—or try to find out where he’d hit himself hard enough that he was sure to have bruises.