They stood glaring at each other for a solid minute before Charlie’s shoulders slumped and he watched her shrug off the last five minutes as if they’d never happened. A huge toothy grin spread across her face. “Anyhoo, gotta run. Let’s totes do it again soon.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek before opening the door. “Try not to trip and fall on grandpa’s dick out there. He might break a hip.”
“Wow. You’re so funny,” he sneered, shoving her out his bedroom door.
“Hey, you look like the bait onTo Catch a Predator. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”
He flipped her off. “Good luck on your callback,” he said, voice filled with spiteful glee.
Her eyes went wide, and she stabbed her finger into his chest. “You take that back right now.”
“No.”
“I’m not kidding, Wyatt Montgomery Edgeworth. You say ‘break a leg’ right now or we’re not friends anymore.” He stared her down. “Say it!” she screeched.
After he felt she’d sufficiently twisted in the wind, he relented. “Fine. Break a leg, I guess.”
She shook her head like a disappointed mom. “You’re a monster.”
“It’s true. You know the way out,” he said, shutting his bedroom door in her face.
He should go back out and help Linc, but instead, he fell backward on the bed, suddenly cognizant of his still-damp clothes and the giant knot in his belly. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go back out there and pretend they hadn’t almost kissed. So instead he just lay there, hiding in his room like a coward. Like he always did. It was going to be a really long day.
Linc was dreaming. He knew he was. It didn’t stop his heart from racing, or the metallic taste from filling his mouth. It always started with blood. Copper pennies and gasoline burned his nose and throat. The desert sun seared his flesh. He tried to blink the sweat from his eyes, but he still couldn’t see. His men were out there somewhere. Had they survived the blast? Wavering shapes rushed toward him. He squinted, trying to make sense of them. Did they wear fatigues? He couldn’t tell. They were ghosts, or maybe he was the ghost. If it weren’t for the throbbing numbness radiating down his right arm, he might have thought he was dead.
He tried to reach for his rifle just a few feet away, but his arm wasn’t cooperating. They were getting closer with each passing second. His pulse skyrocketed, adrenaline sending shock waves along his body until he wasn’t thinking, only reacting. When the amorphous shape appeared above him, he lashed out with his left hand, gripping their throat with everything he had and rolling them beneath him. He needed the advantage. They had weapons. They had the full use of their bodies. They had all their senses. He only had fear and training. He straddled them, squeezing with every bit of strength he could muster with just his one hand. If he was lucky, he could fracture their hyoid bone. They’d suffocate.
They fought back, their blows weak as they struggled beneath him, frantically shouting.
“Linc!”
Somewhere the sound of his name penetrated through the fog of his memory.
“Linc. Stop! Fuck, please. Fuck. Stop!”
Linc opened his eyes, blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness after having struggled in the blazing noonday sun of his nightmare. He was back in his room at the Edgeworth penthouse, straddling a breathless, red-faced Wyatt.Jesus. Holy fucking Christ.Linc could have killed him. His hand still clutched Wyatt’s throat. His left hand.Thank fuck.He let out a shaky breath. If it had been his right hand… he didn’t even want to think about that. He massaged the tender skin at Wyatt’s throat. The boy winced as he swallowed beneath Linc’s fingers. Even in the dark, he could see it would bruise. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Wyatt’s lips moved but his voice sounded miles away. A lead weight crushed down on Linc’s chest and his vision tunneled, his heart slamming against his ribcage until he thought he was having a heart attack. Fuck. Not now. Not. Now. Beads of perspiration pricked at his forehead and slid along his spine, but he was ice cold. He wanted to move, to run away, but his mind held him frozen.
Wyatt’s soft hands were touching his face as he spoke. Linc forced himself to concentrate on the boy’s lips. “Linc. I think you’re having a panic attack. Can you hear me?”
He didn’t speak, just gave a jerky nod.
“Okay, dude, I have these all the time. Focus on five things you can see.” Linc’s gaze jerked around the room, trying to focus on anything. “Say them. Out loud.”
“The lamp. The headboard.” He sucked in a ragged breath, his gaze falling to Wyatt.Your sinful mouth, your riot of curls spilling over my pillow, he thought to himself. He swallowed. “The-the chair. The pillows. You.”
Wyatt’s thumb caressed Linc’s cheek, his voice a low murmur. “Tell me four things you can touch.”
Four things he could touch. Okay. The sheets, the comforter, the silky material of Wyatt’s pants, the soft skin of his long delicate throat, still clenched in Linc’s left hand.
Shit.He tried to move his hand, but Wyatt captured it, holding it in place. “Don’t.” Linc’s cock twitched at Wyatt’s raw plea. “Four things.”
He needed to focus. To think. To relax. To pull himself back. Focus. “The sheets. The blanket… you. I can feel you.”
Wyatt’s pupils dilated, his pink tongue licking over his full lower lip, goosebumps erupting across his skin. “That’s three,” he whispered.
“It’s enough.”
Wyatt gave a half nod of acceptance. “Two things you can hear.”
