Raging Hard(109)

“This.” He nodded at the mountains.

“You ever jump off them?”

He laughed and moved himself closer to me. My heart resumed its frantic thumping.

“Once, yeah. Back when I first started.”

“What’s it like?”

He was silent for a second, staring off at the mountains. I almost wondered if he hadn’t heard me, but then he started speaking.

“It’s like freedom. It’s terrifying and exciting and you’re alive and dead and everything all at once. You know there’s the potential for injury or worse, but that feeling you get hurtling toward the ground is totally worth all the risk. When you’re up there, it all stops.”

“I don’t think I could do it.”

He laughed at me. “You could. You’re the bravest person I know.”

I laughed. “Why do you say that?”

His face was close to mine. I could feel his warm breath. “Gorgeous and smart and brave. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for years.”

“Lincoln,” was all I could say.

“Fuck, Brie. You know what you do to me.”

“I don’t.”

He moved closer, his thigh against mine. I should have gotten up, but I couldn’t.

“You give me that feeling. That same feeling. Freedom and terror and sky all coming up at me. You fucking bring me back to earth, Aubrie. And I’m sick of not having you.”

I wanted to say something, but he crushed my reply against my mouth with his lips and kissed me hard.

It was like the last time, all those years ago. I pressed myself back against him, my arms around his neck, as the thrill and rush ran through my lips and chest, tingles cascading down my chest and spine. The air was crisp and his mouth was clean and open as he kissed me, his tongue touching mine, and I couldn’t do anything else, anything else in the world, but sit on that bench and kiss him back. It was what I wanted more than anything. All the worry and the stress and the fear and the desire, it was all there and it also wasn’t, and it felt so good. I thought it might never end. I was okay with that.

And then his phone started buzzing and ringing.

The old-style tone cut through the night. I pulled back, my forehead touching his, my breath coming deep.

“Silence it,” I said. He grinned and reached into his pocket with his right hand, his left hand around my waist. His cane lay forgotten on the ground.

He pulled it up and paused, fingers poised over the button that would silence it. His head turned slightly and I glanced at the caller ID. It said “Cliff,” which could only have been my dad.

“What does he want?” I mumbled.

Then Lincoln was gone, his forehead pulled away, his one hand holding the phone up to his face and the other retracting away from my body. I felt empty and wanted him back, but the doubt that had been held at bay by his touch flooded back into me, and I couldn’t believe what had happened.

Worse, I couldn’t believe how right it felt. That scared me more.

“Hello?” he said.

He paused and listened. “We went for a walk. Aubrie wasn’t feeling well.”

I stood up and moved a few feet away, trying to get my emotions under control. I glanced back and caught the look on Lincoln’s face, both confused and angry.

“Okay, I will,” he said.

He listened for another second and then hung up the phone.

“What did he want?” I asked.

“We should get you home.” He reached down and grabbed his cane and then straightened up.

“Lincoln, we should talk.”

He limped over to me and stood there, his face intense and concentrated.

“No, we shouldn’t. Let’s not talk. I said what I wanted to say. You think about it, and if you still want to talk, we can tomorrow.”

“What, you can just order me around?”

“Look, we have to get you home. Your dad was worried.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

I started walking back toward the venue and Lincoln’s car, not bothering to wait up for him. I was annoyed that he’d order me around, and annoyed that he’d break away from me just because my dad had called him.

Mostly, though, I was annoyed with myself. Because as much as I wanted it to not be true, I wanted him. I was soaking wet, and I would have gone down on him right there if he had wanted me to. I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me.

I was in for one awkward and quiet ride home. But he was right about one thing: I needed to think about what had happened. I needed to think about what I wanted.

I had to figure out if I would give in to what I knew could be a huge mistake.





Chapter Ten: Lincoln


I was falling. I could feel the wind whipping through my hair and the scream of it passing across my ear drums, and the sky all around me was dark. I couldn’t see the building I had just jumped from and I couldn’t see the ground, but I didn’t care because she was there, right in front of me. I could smell her hair and her skin, despite the sensory overload that falling inevitably brings. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her closer against me, closer even than the straps that held her body in place.