“Except this is for an audience of one. Your husband, Professor Polk. No pressure. You can handle that.”
“No,” he clipped out, headed back for the kitchen.
“Tell me about the stage fright.”
Lincoln spun and flung his hands in the air. “For fuck’s sake, Carter, why?”
Carter pushed out of his chair and approached his partner like he would a caged lion, which was about how Lincoln looked right now. Face scrunched in anger, blond hair askew, practically growling, definitely prowling. Carter advanced with caution, aiming at not getting eaten alive. At least not in the bad way. “Because the thought of playing in front of crowds makes you feel ill,” he said. “And maybe that feeling, plus the pacing, will make you feel even worse. So you’ll stop pacing.”
Lincoln narrowed his eyes and leaned back against the kitchen sink, creating more distance between them. “You are diabolical.”
“And curious.” He rested a hip against the island, letting Lincoln have his space.
“I’m supposed to be the pissy house cat.”
“Oh, don’t worry, babe, you still hold that title. Your lion’s mane is out to here.” Carter held his hands up on either side of his head.
Lincoln frantically smoothed down the ruffled locks. “Fuck you.”
Mission accomplished, Carter turned for the cabinets, grabbed the tequila bottle and two shot glasses, and returned to the table. “Come. Sit.”
“Cat, not a dog.”
He filled each glass with two fingers’ worth of the tequila. “Hence bribes.”
Steps approached behind him, and Carter bit back his smile.
Lincoln tossed his phone on the table and plopped into the chair on Carter’s left. Carter slid a glass in front of him. “The stage fright stop you going forward with music?” he asked.
Lincoln sipped at his tequila, contemplating his answer. “In large part, yes. Take current Lincoln anxiety level and ratchet it up a thousand. I was in a constant state of panic, so worried about getting it perfect, where it was going to lead, and what others would think. I wasn’t playing for me anymore. Mentally and physically, I couldn’t keep going like that. I didn’t love it, didn’t love myself, and didn’t love where I was headed.”
“How’d your family take that?”
“My sister was fucking ecstatic. She knew how miserable I was. Mom and Dad not so much, and I felt guilty as hell. They’d put so much into having a music kid, and then I pulled the plug before the payoff. Things were never the same, and then I moved across the country and didn’t come back. Not sure they would’ve ever forgiven me if not for Gabby and Elena. We all go out to LA every few years to visit. Proof of life.”
Carter chuckled. “That how Elena learned the phrase?”
“Gabby’s words, not mine.”
“You two still close?” At Lincoln’s side-eye, Carter lifted a hand, palm out. “I only ask because you mentioned your sister was with Elena this weekend. Forgive the investigator. Just trying to understand the picture.”
Lincoln’s glare didn’t immediately recede, and Carter worried he’d ruined every stride forward he’d made the past two days, but then, as if adjudging his apology genuine, Lincoln’s shoulders relaxed, as did the murder eyes. “Fair enough,” he said. “I suppose it’s not the way divorce usually goes. Gabby works for State. Elena was born when she was assigned to Foggy Bottom, but with her next overseas assignment, I stayed home on dad duty.”
“That’s when you came out of the field,” Carter said, putting the pieces together. “Started teaching at Quantico.”
Lincoln nodded. “Worked for me professionally, but personally Gabby and I drifted apart, which was probably inevitable. Gabby is like this ball of energy no one can contain. She likes to be on the move and loves relocating every few years. I am not cut out for that. I like stability and routines.”
“You don’t say.”
Lincoln kicked his shin but smiled. “She’s still my best friend,” he said, smile growing wider. “And Elena is a mix of us both. Energetic, adventurous, spends her summers traveling with her mom, but she likes having a home base, a place and routine to return to each fall. It works for us.”
“I’m glad,” Carter said. “And I’m sorry if it sounded like I doubted that.”
“That’s on me, not you. Few years back, I dated a guy long-term. Adam, who insisted on calling me Linc. Introduced him to Elena and everything. About a year later, he offered me a ring and an ultimatum—them or him.”
Carter formed a fist, then released it, so angry on Lincoln’s behalf, and his own, he could scream. An incredible man offered that guy a family and he spit in their face. Carter dreamed of being so lucky one day. “I hope you sent him packing.”
“Swiftly.” Lincoln tossed back the rest of his shot. “Didn’t even have to think about it.”
