“Are you okay? Why are you whispering?”
I laugh, returning to my normal voice. “Sorry. I just laid Caroline down.
“Oh, so she’s asleep,” he says, disappointment coming through the line.
“Yeah, why?”
“I wanted to see her.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Linc? Are you drunk?”
“Come to your front door, Syl.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I stop in my tracks, my heart racing at the prospect of him really being here.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m waitin’.”
I rush to the front door, flinging it open, and the sight makes me weak in the knees. “Well, are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna get your ass over here and give me a hug?”
It’s been almost a year since I’ve seen him. The longest year of my life.
Squealing, I launch myself into his arms and he swings me around, holding me tight. “God, it’s so good to see you.” He inhales deeply, burying his face into my neck.
Tears burn my eyes, the weight of the last several months settling like an anvil of truth. I’ve missed him so much. He couldn’t have known how much I need him right now. How just being in his arms makes it all seem so much more bearable.
My chest fills with warmth. “What are you doing here?” I ask as he lowers me to the ground.
“I had the bus drop me off in Delmar and I rented a car. I have to leave for the airport no later than four a.m. if I’m gonna make the show in Fort Worth tomorrow night, so this will be a really quick visit but I had to see you. I needed to make sure you’re okay.”
“You drove three hundred miles out of the way just to see me?”
“Three hundred fifty-six to be exact.” He smiles.
“Linc, you didn’t have to do that. But I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I lead him inside where he sets his guitar case next to the door and closes it. “Nice place,” he comments, looking around.
I realize he’s never been here before. Every time he comes to visit I meet him somewhere else, and now I’m glad that I had.
He looks uncomfortable here.
He picks up one of Caroline’s dolls he’s sent her, turning it over in his hand.
“Thirsty?” I ask.
“Do you have a special brew?”
“Matter of fact, I do.” I smile. “C’mon.”
We walk through the living room and into the kitchen. “I wish I had my own place,” he says.
“What happened to your apartment?”
“I bought out the last two months of my lease before I went on the road. I’m going to be living on a bus for the next six weeks anyway so I put all my stuff in storage.”
Opening the fridge, I reach for the special brown bottle. “This one’s called Lumberjack. It’s selling like crazy right now. I even like it and you know how I am about beer.”
