Page 3 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
My knuckles are gripping the arms of my seat, fingernails digging deep as the plane nosedives toward the ground.
I can’t breathe. There’s no air. A popping sound barely registers over the chaos, and yellow oxygen masks suddenly dangle in front of me.
I can’t let go to put one on.
Screams fill the air, children sobbing, women begging for mercy. The man in the seat next to me is shouting a prayer to a god I’m pretty sure is no longer listening.
I’m not praying. I’m crying. With every rushing second, my cries get louder, more desperate, more frantic, until I’m screaming too. Screaming for help. Screaming for someone to save me.
Screaming my husband’s name, over and over, until my last breath explodes.
Lincoln!
Linc jerked upright in bed, lungs bursting, his own name on his lips. But it wasn’t himself he was thinking of. It was Kelly, his adored wife.
His dead wife.
Christ, how could it have been almost ten years?
He plopped back on the pillow, his hand pressing hard against his breastbone, right where Kelly had laid her hand as she went to sleep each night. The all-consuming grief had faded to something that didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity a long time ago—ten years was a long time to mourn, to yearn for someone who wasn’t coming home—but he missed her still.
He was self-aware enough to know the anniversary had brought the nightmare back. It was part of the reason he’d agreed to this visit, the chance to escape the memories that surrounded him back home. Gradually his breathing returned to normal, but the remnants of the dream were still alive in his brain, and he knew from experience that moving was the only way to get rid of them. Usually he went straight to the restaurant, where the chaos would occupy him, but since that wasn’t an option…
He heaved himself out of bed and hurried to throw on some workout clothes. JD found him an hour later in the gym his friend had set up in the empty mansion he now owned.
“Dude, you’re on vacation.” JD’s gaze narrowed on Linc’s sweat-stained tank, taking in the evidence of how long he’d been at it. “Why are you here instead of sleeping in?”
Linc did his own examination of his friend, seeing the peace in his eyes, the relaxed grin, and for the first time envied him. JD had found that one woman he was willing to compromise for, the one woman who could sneak inside his armor and turn his world upside down—and he was happy. It was both good and hard to see.
“When have you ever known me to just sleep in?”
“Never,” JD agreed. “That was the point of getting you down here early. The ground-breaking ceremony isn’t for two weeks—fourteen days that I intended to use to get you out of the kitchen and relaxed.”
Linc huffed as he racked his weights. “I’m here to build a restaurant.” And okay, to be on vacation, but if he didn’t have something to do, he would go insane.
“I somehow think you’d jump in with Erin’s contractors and do the building with your own two hands. But I won’t let you,” JD emphasized as Linc’s interest perked up. “Design, yes, but you’re taking a vacation, damn it, whether you want to or not. It’ll be good for you.”
His friends thought they knew what was best for him, and they weren’t put off by his bulldozing persona. It was a gift as a chef, but not so much when your two best friends were as alpha as you were.
“Speaking of kitchens”—JD firmly turned away—“mine has food in it if you want breakfast. Lily and I made waffles, though they probably aren’t up to your standards.”
“Are they from a mix?” Linc called as JD exited the room.
“Of course they are. I’m no chef.”
Linc growled. Snagging a towel to wipe away the sweat, he gave himself a second to breathe, to close the door on thoughts of his nightmare and all the memories it had stirred up, and then followed JD out to the kitchen.
No waffles waited.
“Asshole,” Linc muttered.
Lily, JD’s fiancée, was seated at the small kitchen table, a cup of coffee in her hands. She laughed at his muttered insult. “I tried to get him to let me cook. You’re a guest, after all. But JD insisted you wouldn’t eat it if it wasn’t done right.”
His friend was correct. Plus, it was simply faster to do it himself than worry about other people’s cooking. In minutes he had fluffy waffles coming off the griddle, and Lily was moaning around her first mouthful topped with fresh whipped cream and strawberries he’d insisted JD cut. At least JD couldn’t mess up that part, though the knife work wasn’t up to Linc’s critical standards.
JD’s eyes heated as they rested on his fiancée. “Keep that up and you aren’t getting out of here to get ready for the barbecue.”
“Keep up what?” Lily asked innocently. Her blonde hair was in a messy bun, allowing Linc a clear view of the spark of mischief in her eyes.
