Chapter 22
Gabby's POV
When I see Lincoln enter the house, I pipe up without thinking. I’m aware of how hard I’m smiling, until my smile suddenly drops the second I see his face.
“Are you okay? What happened?” I say, confused.
The first thing that hits me is the fear that he might be sick again. The PTSD from him being in the hospital and almost dying slams into me so fast my throat feels tight and pressurized.
“I… I need to tell you something,” he says, shivering, his eyes refusing to meet mine.
Morris runs up to him, meowing loudly, sitting back on his little hind legs before stretching his paws in the air so Lincoln can pick him up. When Lincoln lifts him, Morris climbs over the back of his neck, settling at the nape like a warm little scarf.
“Did you jerk off or something? You couldn’t control yourself, could you?” I say, feeling smug even as my heart cracks. I wantto be wrong about him. I want him to want me enough to try.
It’s not like I’m ever going to get back with him, but still.
It matters to me, for some reason.
“When we were married…” he begins. “We got to a place, or rather I allowed us to get to a place, where I kept things from you and… I care about you… I… still—”
“Link! Get to the point.”
Morris is still perched on the back of his neck, purring loudly with his eyes closed, when Lincoln finally straightens to look at me. His hands slide into his pockets, his shoulders lifting in a gentle shrug.
“I um… Sarah gave me a blowjob.”
Honestly, in that moment, I have no idea what to say. I want to laugh and cry at the same time. This shouldn’t affect me, but it feels like he just drop-kicked my heart.
“Why am I not surprised,” I say, rolling my eyes and turning away from him, heading toward the kitchen.
He follows. Of course he does.
“Wait.”
“Wait forwhat? You’re telling me something that’s not news to me, Lincoln.”
“Let me finish though.”
“You had a chance to finish when you were standing there after you dropped that little nugget.”
Lincoln takes Morris gently from around his shoulders, then puts his hand on my shoulder to turn me toward him. I shrug my left shoulder out of his grasp and glare up at him.
“DoNOTfucking touch me.”
“I didn’t come.”
“Wow, wellgoodfor you.” My voice drips with sarcasm.
“I do have self control, Gabby. I stopped it before it happened because—”
“Lincoln, shut the fuck up, oh my God.”
“I was thinking about you. I stopped because I was thinking—”
“Do not fucking insult me, dude. The fact that you lethertouch you in the first place proves that you don’t have the self-control you’re deluding yourself into thinking you do.”
He straightens suddenly, a smirk appearing at the corner of his lips as his eyes narrow, almost confused.
