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When he finally climbed into bed, the warmth from his freshly-showered body radiated toward me. Muffy pounced, licking him in the face before settling on a spot at the foot of the bed.
I lifted Lincoln’s arm and scooted next to him. I didn’t know what to say. Only knew that I wanted to be close to him.
Once I was tucked against him, he tightened his arm around me. His heartbeat was steady under my ear as it thumped.
I closed my eyes, letting the sense of protectiveness wash over me.
This right here represented so much.
Safety.
Support.
Partnership.
Love.
I stiffened as the last word came so easily. The biggest one of all.
“What’s wrong?” Lincoln was so in tune with my mannerisms, it was mind-blowing.
“I love you,” I blurted. I couldn’t breathe. Not only had I just realized it myself, but I’d never said that to anyone but Eric and Beau, and those were different kinds of love.
“I’m sorry that’s a bad thing,” he said flatly.
I popped up. “No.” I pressed my lips together and tried to regroup. “I wasn’t answering your question,” I finally said. “I—All of this is new for me. I’m not sure how to handle it. But you have been the one thing making a really hard time more bearable.”
Once I started speaking, the words came out in a tumbled rush. But if anything, I’d been completely honest with Lincoln since I’d known him. I’d never held back. Maybe I had in other areas of my life. Maybe I’d played it safe. I’d had to. There was so much at stake.
But with Lincoln, I’d been unafraid to speak my mind, even the times that weren't necessarily a good thing.
And in typical Lincoln fashion, his face was an absolute stone. No emotion. Not a twitch or a blink. He simply stared as if he hadn’t heard me or I’d spoken in a new language he couldn’t comprehend.
I tapped on his head. “Are you in there?”
And it was like a chisel to rock. His features cracked as he let out the most beautiful, deep laugh.
I was glad I was lying down because the rarity was shocking.
“How do you do it?” he asked when he finally settled.
I wanted to tickle or poke him until he laughed again. The novelty of that sound would never wear off.What if you could make him do it more often?
The image of him and me on a pallet of worn blankets on the floor of a dumpy apartment flashed through my head. Because in my mind, he had that same laugh, but the happy expression lasted more than fifteen seconds.
And I knew for better or worse I was in. The worse could be a whole lot better if he let loose one of those grins every so often.
“Do what?”
“We’re in the middle of hell, and you make me laugh.” He touched my cheek and his expression held so much behind it.
It was my turn to bust out laughing. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we? You ask what’s wrong and I say I love you. Then I say something heartfelt and you laugh.”
“I wasn’t laughing at what you said.”
I straightened to a sitting position. “I know. It was the tap to the head.” I did it again for emphasis.
He stared at the ceiling. “What’s your relationship like with your parents?” He dropped his head toward me.
