Take Care, Sara

be right back.”
    Sara watched people interact as she waited, her eyes landing on, and going back to, Mason Wells. Even though Spencer had mentioned him being there, she was still surprised to see him. He stood with his profile to her, talking to a pretty blond leaning against the wall near the bathroom. In his hand he held a glass containing clear liquid, sipping from it as he talked.
    As though feeling her gaze on him, he looked up, catching her eye, and saluted her with his glass before continuing his conversation with the woman he was with. The lady laughed and Mason leaned down to kiss her. Sara swallowed, feeling…something. It wasn’t jealousy. Maybe envy? He’d moved on enough to be normal, something there was no logical way for her to accomplish. Well—Sara cocked her head as she watched him brush hair out of the woman’s eye—she wasn’t sure how normal he was; given the fact he talked to his deceased brother on a regular basis, but at least he’d managed to move on.
    She turned away, feeling intrusive, feeling like she had no room to talk. The things Sara thought she heard and saw clearly made her no one to judge someone’s lucidity. The pull of the woman’s tinkling laughter was too much to ignore and she found herself staring at them once more. Was she it? The reason Mason had had to get past the guilt and pain and drugs. Would Sara’s redemption not be something, but some one , as well?
    “What’s got you frowning so intently?”
    Sara glanced at Lincoln. “That’s Mason. Over there.” She nodded toward the pair.
    “The cross-dressing grief counselor?” Lincoln handed her an uncapped Leinenkugel Berry Weiss. The bottle was cold and had a layer of perspiration on it, chilling her hands.
    She turned away from Mason, not wanting to think about her reality. The temptation to lose her truth in a haze of falsehood, if only briefly, was strong. Maybe one night of reprieve wasn’t too much to hope for.
    “Yep. I don’t want to talk about him. Or any of it.”
    “Then we won’t.”
    Sara raised the bottle to her lips. The cold beer with a hint of fruit washed over her taste buds, and she was surprised by how good it tasted.
    Lincoln watched her, saying after a while, “You aren’t going to get drunk and pass out from one beer and make me carry you out of here, are you? ‘Cause, I don’t know, you look pretty heavy.”
    “Or, I don’t know, you’re weak,” she retorted, gulping down the beer. “It tastes good.” Sara shrugged.
    “Touché. What do you want to do?”
    Sara watched the card games and people interacting around them as she finished her beer. They stood in the middle of it all and yet were somehow on the outside of it. A horrible sound came from the direction of the living room and Sara realized someone had turned on the karaoke machine and was doing their version of singing.
    Her eyes collided with his.
    Lincoln’s face lit up and he laughed, nodding. “Yeah. That’s what we need to do. You wanna?”
    Sara swallowed, taking in the way his gray eyes crinkled at the corners, the flash of straight, even teeth, the deep timbre of his laughter slamming into her like a bolt of life. Lincoln was becoming alive to her when no one else had since that night. Why? Why him ? She frowned, averting her eyes from where they continually seemed to want to go.
    He paused and Sara glanced up to catch the smile falling from his lips. “Sara? You okay?”
    With a jerk of her head, she said, “Yes. No. Uh…can I get another beer?”
    Lincoln took the empty bottle from her hand. “I’m only going to ask this one more time and then I’ll shut up about it, I promise.” He touched her cheek, bringing Sara’s eyes to his. “Are you sure?”
    Animation shot through her, or maybe it was the beer hitting her already, but Sara’s body hummed with anticipation and her skin heated. She nodded. Sara was sure. Maybe she would regret it tomorrow, or even in an hour, but right now, she couldn’t regret wanting a piece of normalcy back in her upturned world.
    They sang ‘(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life’. Sara stumbled a little at first, but then Lincoln grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him, and when he sang each and every word in his clear deep voice with his eyes locked on hers, she relaxed and had fun. She even laughed and didn’t feel bad about it. Why Lincoln? was in the back of her mind, hovering, trying to ruin it for her, but she continually shoved it away until it