“That’s good,” she mumbled, picking at the jagged edge of an uneven nail on her thumb, thoughts locked on Lincoln.
She’d wanted to open the door; she’d forced herself not to pick up the phone. Sara felt awful about the way she’d avoided him, but not awful enough to call him back or go see him. She was toxic and Lincoln needed to stay away from her. He was better off by himself. He’d hate her before too long anyway. It was best to distance herself from him. Sara wondered if he’d let her.
Mason rubbed his forehead, letting out a sigh. “Look, I know you don’t want me here. I know you want to be alone so you can hate yourself in peace, but…that’s not going to happen. You have people that care about you. You have people that are worried about you. Humor them. Talk to me. Open up. Did you paint, Sara?”
Sara swallowed, giving an almost imperceptible nod.
“Did you feel better afterward?”
She thought of how the urge to create had taken over, how she’d been mindless with the need to paint and hadn’t felt or thought anything for joyous seconds or minutes. Then she remembered the letter she’d seen on the floor after dropping the paintbrush.
Sara looked up, meeting his eyes. “No. I felt crazy.”
Mason frowned. “What? Why?”
She pushed herself out of the chair and stared out the kitchen window above the sink, not really seeing anything. “You want to know what I’m thinking? You want me to open up to you, talk to you?”
“It doesn’t have to be me, Sara. Anyone. Talk to someone. Talk to Lincoln if you’re the most comfortable with him. You two seem close. Just don’t keep it all inside. It’ll ravage you from the inside out if you let it.”
It already had. It had torn her up. She was a bloody, throbbing mess of pain; a wound that never healed.
“Can you do something for me, Sara?” Mason stood and walked toward the door, pulling his coat on and then his boots.
“What?”
“Can you try to forgive yourself?”
Her answer was immediate and needed no thought. It was a resounding, “No.”
He sighed, opening the door. “Well, that right there is your first mistake. See you next week,” Mason mocked, shutting the door behind him.
***
“Why didn’t you answer the door or phone?” his voice immediately demanded, gruff with annoyance.
Sara inhaled deeply, something as close to peace as she was allowed trickling over her at the sound of his deep voice, even if he didn’t sound happy with her. Didn’t matter. Her breathing evened, her pulse steadied. All from that one sentence.
“So you’re going to do that again, are you? Avoid me? Not talk to me? Fine. Try it. I’ll keep calling and I’ll keep showing up. Next time you pull something like that I’m not leaving, Sara. It was too cold yesterday to hang around outside, but next time, I’ll be prepared.”
Lincoln paused, picking up steam as he went. “Next time, I’ll wear my snowmobile garb. Doesn’t matter if I haven’t worn it since high school and it doesn’t fit me anymore and I’m in dire need of new gear. I’ll still wear it. So you’ll make me look ridiculous on top of it all. Is any of this sinking in?”
A small smile started to manipulate her lips. Sara rested her elbows on the table and held her forehead in one hand, the other holding the phone to her ear.
“And FYI, you’re coming with me tomorrow to pick out a Christmas tree. Be at my house at nine. Wear a coat this time. And a smile. Those are my rules. Don’t even try not to be there. I’ll hunt you down, Sara, I swear. Are you going to say anything?” He blew out a noisy breath full of irritation. When Sara remained silent, Lincoln sighed and said, “Anyway, hope you’re okay. Take care, Sara.”
She set the phone down, feeling lighter than she had been before she’d placed the phone call. Sara didn’t like feeling the way she did most days, but the thought of being anything else caused guilt to overrun all other emotions. She was stuck. Trapped. Sara was lost. But every time she began to lose herself or fade completely away, Lincoln somehow managed to find her, just a sliver of her, but it was something.
It was enough.
Sara got up from the table, her eyes traveling along the bare walls that whispered of her past. She turned in a circle, remembering the photo they’d taken of each other the day they’d danced by the creek. It used to reside on the refrigerator, held there with a heart magnet. Longing and euphoria washed over her, trickling down her scalp in shivers, his scent and touch coming with it.
They danced. Around and around they twirled, eyes locked on each other’s world. The sun beat down on them, heating their skin. When the sun touched his face, it made his features shine and sparkle, his rugged beauty amplified and breathtaking, his eyes blue gems in a sun-kissed face. The creak trickled beside them as nature’s lyrical music. Grass poked the bottoms of her bare feet.
Sara let her head fall back and closed her eyes, complete in his arms. She’d never been so centered, so whole, as she’d been since that day he’d smiled and asked her name. Sara opened her eyes, lifting her head, and caught his soft smile. Emotions overwhelmed her, brought tears to her eyes. She’d never thought it could be like this with another person. Sara never thought she could be so happy, especially after losing her parents. It scared her and thrilled her and made her sick and she never wanted it to end.
“What are you thinking?” he murmured close to her ear, his clean scent, the tickle of his breath on her skin, the sound of his voice, him, making Sara melt. One look and she melted. The power he had over her; it was astounding.
“I’m thinking I love you and I’ll always love you, even when you’re old and wrinkly.”
“Ditto,” he said, spinning her around until she was dizzy.
“I will never be old and wrinkly, just so you know,” Sara said, laughing when he dipped her.
“You will most definitely be old and wrinkly, but you’ll still be beautiful and I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you, even after I’m dead and gone and am nothing. My love will linger on. It’s that awesome, that strong, that real. Have no doubt of that, Sara Walker.” His eyes held her in place, the conviction in them, the set of his jaw, telling her he spoke the truth. He straightened then, pulling her up with him, his chest noticeably rising and lowering as his lips pressed together.
“What is it, Cole?”
“I just…I love you so damn much, Sara. It makes me weak and stronger at the same time and drives me absolutely mad and I wouldn’t change it for the world, not for nothing.”
“Ditto,” she whispered, her throat tightening.
He pulled her to him, one hand on her back, the other gripping the side of her face as he turned those lips that spoke so passionately to wreak havoc on her mouth. Her stomach dipped, her body reacted as it always did, and Sara kissed him back, telling him with her mouth what she couldn’t find the words to say with her lips. All she wanted, all she ever needed, was right before her.
Sara opened her eyes, going still. Her throat was painfully tight, her heart thundering in her chest. Why couldn’t she remember him without it hurting so much?
***
“What are you doing?” she asked, staring at his gloved hands packing snow into a round, firm ball. Sara’s breaths were visible and she crossed her arms in an attempt to keep some of her body’s warmth from leaving her.
Lincoln glanced up at her, his eyes shining silver against the white atmosphere. “I’m making a snowball.” The sun glowed behind him, making him appear haloed all around.
Sara slowly backed away. “I thought we were finding you a Christmas tree.”
“We are.” He straightened, a flash of white teeth showing as he grinned. A dark blue stocking cap covered his head and he wore a brown coat and gloves that had been a birthday present from her and his brother one year. Lincoln’s breath left him in frosty puffs of air and he looked like an ad for an outdoorsmen magazine.