Her brows pinched, confusion pulling at her mouth.
I swallowed hard. As much as I knew I couldn’t hold it against her, the memory still burned, jagged and raw, landing as harshly as every time my father hit me. “That’s why I went ballistic,” I admitted, voice almost breaking. “At the time, itdidn’t matter to me that I was making it worse. I needed to punish you until youfeltfor me, the way I felt for you.”
“Shit, Lincoln, this is so fucking stupid…” Her hands covered her face for a second before she dropped them again.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.” She shook her head, almost disbelieving. “I didn’t realize you were asking me out. I thought you wanted to shoot the shit or—I don’t know. I did want that withyou, I just… I couldn’t that day.”
Something in me went very still. The ground shook under us and everything I’d built, every threadbare excuse came crashing down with it.
I exhaled raggedly, dragging my hands down my face. “I really did fuck it all up.” The words were almost a whisper, but they burned my lips with its poisonous truth. “I punished you.”
Every heartbeat pounded with shame and longing, and I could feel her eyes on me, probably seeing everything I’d tried to hide. I wanted to sink into the floor, disappear, and somehow still reach across the space between us so she’d understand how fucking sorry I was.
Nina’s expression softened just a fraction, but her voice stayed firm. “You did.”
I nodded once, the guilt pooling like bile low in my stomach, its heaviness making me sink into the cushions. “I can’t take any of it back, this isn’t about a blank slate or pretending it didn’t happen. It’s just about showing you that no one gets to tell you how to feel your pain.”
Her hand brushed against mine, small, tentative, enough for a lifeline I didn’t deserve. “It’s a lot, Lincoln,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to make sense of you or anything right now.”
“You don’t need to.” I rushed it out. “Just because it needs to be said, doesn’t mean it changes anything. I understand thatnow. If you’re not in information overload, I have one more thing for you to weigh in…”
My chest tightened, relief and yearning fiercely intertwining. I wanted to promise her the world, but for now, I just let my fingers linger over hers.
A knock at the door sliced through the moment. My head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Expecting company?” I asked, voice low, a protective edge threading through the words.
Her small, wry smile made me want to soften, but my muscles stayed taut. “Closer to an invasion,” she said. “Can you get the door for me?”
I battled with my gut feeling to stay next to her, but in the end, her request won, the way it always should have.
Carmen barged in first, all fire and teasing energy, and behind her was Diego, carrying large trays of food, his brown eyes locking on Nina with a warmth that made my chest clench. And of course, that stupid manbun I wanted to cut off. Three more women I recognized, their sisters, but I only remembered Martina by name, brought in bags of groceries and premade meals.
“Camacho invasion incoming!” Her voice carried through the apartment, loud and unapologetic, the kind of chaotic energy only Carmen could pull off.
They left everything they brought on the kitchen counter and rushed to Nina on the couch, enveloping her in hugs and kisses and what could only be genuine concern for her well-being. When Diego bent down to kiss her cheek and squeeze her shoulder, something in my chest clenched at the sight of him next to Nina, too close, too comfortable.So they’d become a thing, I thought grimly. I’d misread us again; I had allowed myself to hope we could get past what I’d done. But she was already someone’s, and I didn’t have that privilege.
It mattered. That she wasn’t mine, but I’d keep my promise, I’d show her what it meant for someone to truly have her back. I pulled away from the scene and went to the kitchen, needing todosomething before I got swallowed up by the buzzing in my chest.
“You all sit,” I said, sharper than I meant, but they didn’t argue. “I’ll make coffee.”
The familiar ritual steadied me—mugs clinking against the counter, the hiss of the machine, the smell of grounds filling the air. It gave me an excuse to keep my back to Diego and Nina, to buy myself a few seconds to breathe before turning around to find Carmen ready to bring cups over.
“Hey,” she said softly, too softly for Carmen. “How are you doing?”
“Better,” I said, because it was mostly true. “Natasha’s being charged. Nina’s home. Things are…” I let my eyes flick briefly to her brother, who was lingering near my spot on the couch. “Looking up.”
“Oh, yeah?” Carmen’s mouth curled into a slow smirk, one brow arched. She cocked her hip and bumped me just above my thigh. “Things are looking up now that my brother’s pawing at your girl?”
I glanced at where Nina sat, they were sitting next to each other. Perfectly PG. “She’s not—” I cut myself off, jaw locking, because it wasn’t inappropriate but still too damn close.
Nina’s grin was carefree. I hadn’t managed to earn that from her yet.
“Your forehead’s all wrinkly. You’re making all sorts of assumptions.” Carmen crossed her arms over her chest and elbowed me lightly. “You should ask, rather than freeze someone to death with your glacial stare.”
I shoved three mugs into Carmen’s hands, a little rougher than necessary. “Living room,” I said, sharper than I intended.“Nina’s not supposed to be on her feet. And I’m just trying to have her back. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“Mm-hmm,” Carmen drawled, shooting me a knowing look over her shoulder as she moved toward the couch. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Carter.”
