Page 58 of Montana Falls
There was a pause as the weight of her words hung in the air. For so long, she had been carrying this burden, and not just because of all the things John had done to us and the world in general. But for the sheer fact of her mother’s death. And now, for the first time, it seemed like she could… not let it go. But more like feel differently about things because she had got thevengeance she craved, and she had ended the man responsible for the first set of horrors she experienced, at far too young an age.
“I reckon your mom is proud of you,cica.” I muttered, reaching over the table to give her hand a squeeze. “Your dad too. You did what you promised, and you took care of things. They’re definitely smiling down at you even harder now.”
After a silent, thanking smile and a look that told me all I needed to know about my girl’s reaction to my words, the conversation shifted back to the usual banter. The kind that flowed easily between us when we were all too tired to care about much else. Logan teased Misha about his terrible dance moves from the night before, while Misha shot back about Logan’s inability to hold his liquor. Price was busy stealing bites from Sapphire’s plate, and she swatted his hand away playfully, laughing as she did.
The only one not doing the same was Lincoln. He sat nursing his drink and staring out of the window, the slightest of frowns between his brows. And when the bill was asked for, he got to his feet, heading outside to ‘get the car warmed up’.
I followed him and the chilly morning air started biting at our skin the second I stepped outside. I shoved my hands into my pockets, trying to keep warm, but the sharp cold did a good job of waking me up, cutting through the lingering fog of my fuzzy brain.
Lincoln stood next to the car, his arms crossed over his chest, staring off down the street like he was a million miles away. There was something about his posture—tense, shoulders slightly hunched—that caught my attention. I’d known him since we were kids, long enough to recognize when something was off. And right now, something definitely was, and he had no excuse of a hangover.
“Everything alright, bro?” I asked, my voice casual but laced with concern.
He blinked, like he was pulled from a daydream, and looked over at me with a forced smile. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You’re acting weird.”
He let out a breath, a cloud of condensation hanging in the air before dissipating. “I’m fine,” he repeated, but there was an edge to his voice.
His gaze drifted away again, like he couldn’t quite meet my eyes, and I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
“Come on, Linc. I can tell something’s up. What’s going on? You’ve been staring out the window all dramatic, like a dog in one of those shelter videos.”
He hesitated for a long moment, his jaw clenching as he stared down the street again. The usual cocky, carefree Lincoln was nowhere to be seen, replaced by someone who seemed… haunted. Wrong. A little messed up somehow.
Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s stupid,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t even be thinking about it, but I am and I… I dunno. I just needed a second, I guess.”
I frowned, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t avoid the question. “What shouldn’t you be thinking about?”
He let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “It’s just… John. He said something to me before he died. Something fucked up that I didn’t believe, but then as I was thinking about it all night, it made sense. And now I’m panicking far worse, and I’m fucking terrified and stressed and I don’t know how to talk to Saph about it because… because I don’t even know how to say it.”
My chest tightened a little at the mention of John. Even with the bastard dead and gone, his shadow still loomed over us and it was easy to see how freaked Lincoln was by him.
“What did he say?” I asked quietly.
Lincoln paused, his eyes darkening for a split second, before shaking his head again, this time more firmly. “It’s stupid.”
But I could tell by the way he said it, by the look in his eyes, that whatever John had said haddefinitelygotten under his skin. It wasn’t just a ridiculous lie or bullshit insult to him, no matter how much he tried to brush it off.
I stared at him for a moment, wanting to press further, but the tension in his posture made me stop.
“Alright,” I said, my voice soft but firm. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push. But if it’s bothering you, you know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is, we can talk about it. And I can even help you talk to Saph, or just tell her for you if you really don’t want to say it.”
It wasn’t going to be that bad, regardless of his reaction. There was nothing fathomable that John could say or do to make our girl freak out because he was dead now.
He was dead, and he couldn’t do shit.
He was never going to haunt us again.
Lincoln nodded slowly, hands clenching and unclenching. “Okay.” He swallowed hard. “I’m going to tell you exactly what he said, and that’s it. I don’t want to talk about it here – not in earshot of the others, and not until I… until later today. I just need the plane journey to sort my shit out and then… then we can talk to Saph or something.”
“Fine with me, bro. We can do that.” I promised. “Tell me.”
He opened his mouth and said a single sentence that made me freeze. Seven words total. Seven words that made me sick. Seven words that made me confused.
Seven words that ruined the light-hearted happiness I’d been feeling since the bastard O’Malley leader had fallen to his doom.
