Take Care, Sara

from Gracie’s encouraging expression to Lincoln’s shuttered one. “Okay.” She shrugged. “Why not?”
    “We should get together again, Sara. Maybe go to a movie or something?”
    She stood up at the same time Lincoln did, looking at Gracie. She looked hopeful, her expression twisting something inside Sara. “I would like that,” she answered honestly, emotion closing her throat a little.
    Gracie smiled brightly, getting up as well. “Great. I’ll call you. Have fun.” She waved and walked off, leaving Sara and Lincoln.
    “Let’s go, partner,” Lincoln said, slinging an arm around her shoulders and aiming them toward the door. It was probably wrong of her to enjoy the feel of even just his arm around her so much, but she did. It was a little bit of completeness in the broken shards of her life.
    When they got to the silver truck, he said one word: “Drive.”
    Sara jerked back from the truck, shaking her head. “No,” she said faintly. Sara’s hands began to tremble around the to-go cup she held and she stepped away from the curb, closer to the coffee shop.
    The streets were busy with traffic, the sounds of tires slugging through wet snow loud in her ears. The coffee taste in her mouth went bitter as Lincoln studied her, a determined set to his jaw.
    “The house I have to measure is two miles outside of town,” he said softly. Lincoln had one hand braced on the hood of the truck, the other held his coffee. His body was angled toward her, as though he thought she could gather strength from him. Usually she could. Not this time.
    “I can’t, Lincoln. I haven’t—I haven’t driven with someone with me since…since…” Nausea rolled through her and Sara swallowed back bile. Her skin was clammy, her heart beating too fast. Sara tossed the coffee cup in a nearby garbage can, the thought of drinking it making her feel worse.
    “I know.” Lincoln nodded, straightening as he set his coffee on the hood of the truck. He moved away from the truck and closer to her. The sidewalk gave her a little height on him so that they were almost at eyelevel. Still Sara had to crane her neck back to clearly see his features. Lincoln’s face was closed, revealing nothing of what he was feeling. “It’s two miles, Sara. Not so far.”
    “It’s too far, Lincoln! It’s too far. What if something happened? I can’t. No.” Sara shook her head, hair sticking to her mouth. She brushed it away, turning her face from Lincoln’s intense gaze. “What if you got hurt? No .”
    Lincoln touched her chin with his free hand, the fingers cool and calloused; familiar, turning her face toward him. “I’ll make you a deal: you drive us to the edge of town and then I’ll take over. Okay?”
    She exhaled loudly, muttering, “Why do you make me do these things?”
    “I make you do them for you, Sara,” he said, his eyes serious.
    “ Why? ”
    Instead of answering, Lincoln pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. They jangled as they connected with her hand. Sara held them to her chest, watching as Lincoln bent his tall frame into the passenger side of the truck.
    Sara’s stomach flipped as she slowly walked to the driver’s side. She paused by the door, touching a hand to her damp forehead. It’s just through town. Lincoln stared back, eyebrows lifted, waiting. She inhaled slowly, deeply, opening the door to the truck. The interior was still warm, though the truck was off. It smelled like Lincoln, his scent a security blanket as she got behind the wheel.
    Her hand shook as she tried to put the key in the ignition and Sara almost dropped the keys. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the horrible swirling sensation in her stomach, and finally got the key in the ignition. Sara wouldn’t look at Lincoln; she couldn’t. She felt him, felt his eyes on her, felt his confidence in her, and her eyes stung because of it. To have such unwavering faith in her; it was humbling.
    “Is your seatbelt on?” she asked in a low voice, clicking hers into place.
    “Of course.”
    She gave him a look.
    “I don’t want to get a ticket,” he added.
    The truck slowly, jerkily, backed out into traffic, Sara’s knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. She forced air in and out of her lungs, trying to focus on that instead of how hard her heart was pounding. It wasn’t such a big deal. Sara drove herself where she needed to go and was okay with it. She knew it was irrational to have such a fear;