Me: It’s okay. He’ll get over it. He needs to learn he’s my brother, not my father.
Then I get a devilish thought.
Me: He did question me for hours about you. He didn’t let up, and I finally had to walk away. That was ballsy coming over to the table.
Lincoln: I’m glad you survived. I will say I’m glad I went over to the table. My heart was broken when I saw the two of you together. I thought he was your boyfriend, and I was going to have to fight him for you.
I can’t help but laugh.
Me: I barely survived. And can I say, ewww. I might be sick. Boyfriend. Gag, barf. That would make me a shady person, flirting with you and being with someone.
I don’t know what came over me, blatantly telling him I was flirting. Maybe it’s because he’s not in front of me and this is just texting. Or maybe it’s because I’m ready to see where this goes. If he’s truly interested in me.
Lincoln: Well, isn’t it a good thing you’re just his sister?
I let out a squeal as I kick my feet like a schoolgirl.
Me: Too bad he thinks you’re the enemy.
Lincoln: Do you?
Me: No.
Lincoln: Good. Do you go to all your brother’s games?
Me: Pretty much. Benton normally wants me to sit in the family section. But I don’t like it there. The only time I do is when our parents go to the game.
Lincoln: Lucky me that you were sitting where you were then.
Me: Guess so. Seems like your brother and mine can’t be on the same ice without fighting.
Lincoln: Korbin and your brother have history. Not good history. It’s not always Korbin's fault the fights happen.
Lincoln: I’m not sure if you know about it or not.
My fingers still, and my stomach tightens. Of course I know.
Me: I know about their past. About Gina. But it’s also not Benton’s fault either that they fight. Tonight was your brother starting it. Unless we were at a different game.
I will always fight for my brother. Yeah, this rivalry with Lincoln’s brother is ridiculous, but it isn’t just Benton that’s still adding fuel to the fire.
Lincoln: Didn’t mean to stir it up. Just… it’s complicated. He’s my brother.
Me: It always is. And in case you forgot, Benton is my brother.
The whole tone of our text shifts—more tension—but I don’t end the conversation. I don’t want to. I sit there staring at the screen, heart pounding, torn between curiosity and loyalty. Finally, I send one last message.
Me: Goodnight, Lincoln. Maybe we can talk again, Scorpion boy.
He replies instantly.
Lincoln: Night, Bayleigh. Sweet dreams, Kraken girl.
12
Lincoln
The house isquiet except for the low murmur of the TV and the occasional pop from the fireplace. Milton’s stretched out on the other end of the couch, half-watching game highlights, half-scrolling on his phone. I’ve got a coffee cooling in my hand, trying to unwind, trying to think about anything that isn’t her.
