Take Care, Sara

down. “How do you think I feel? He is…he was…my brother . I’ve wanted you since the day I met you. How do you think that makes me feel? I’m torn up inside, Sara. My insides are ravaged and ruined and I don’t care . I don’t care. All I know is it hurts to look at you and it hurts even more not to. I need you. I need you.
    “It doesn’t matter that he’s my brother, it doesn’t matter that he is…was…your husband. It doesn’t stop me from needing you. I see you when I wake up, I dream of you, I see you in every woman’s face and I see you in the sky and even the grass. You’re everywhere. You’re everything. That’s all that matters. You’re all that matters. So hate me. Never speak to me again. Doesn’t matter. I’ll still need you. I’ll need you till I take my last breath and I’ll need you even after that,” he panted, his chest heaving up and down.
    “Stop, Lincoln, don’t.” He was making it worse. She couldn’t hear anymore. It hurt. Her heart was breaking, hearing the words pouring from Lincoln, hearing the conviction in them. This was wrong; it had to be wrong.
    But he wouldn’t stop. Maybe he couldn’t. Lincoln continued, relentless. “All those times I wanted to hold you, all those times I wanted to pull you into my arms and couldn’t, not the way I wanted to, not the way you needed me to, but would never admit; it killed me, Sara. It’s still killing me. I want you for mine. I want you always.
    “I started to slip up. These last few months…I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t pretend anymore. That’s why I’ve been acting so—so crazy . It was too much, loving you and not being able to. Every time I saw you, I just wanted to hold you and take your pain away. And I know I did. I know you feel it too. But you don’t want to.”
    “Please,” she beseeched, wanting to shut off the sound of his voice, wanting to stop the sinking feeling taking over her. She was falling, fading, suffocating from it all. Her, him, them . Words she didn’t want to hear, but couldn’t not hear—it was destroying her. The way she felt, not knowing how she felt, and about her husband’s brother ; it was agony .
    Lincoln reached for her, his hands cupping her cheeks. “I want you, Sara. I’ve always wanted you. Damaged, broken, irrevocably ruined, I still want you. It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care . I’ll always want you. No matter what. No matter where you are. If you’re with me or not; I’ll want you. It’s not ever going away. Maybe Cole was it for you, maybe none of this matters, and I’m tearing out my soul for you for no reason, but…you were it for me. You’re it for me , Sara. Always have been.”
    Sara stared at him, seeing how unhinged he was, her breath leaving her much too quickly when Lincoln raised his intense eyes to hers, not once removing his gaze from her face as the minutes slowly ticked by. His words washed over her, seeped into her, warmed her, and made the numbness go away. She blinked her eyes against tears, feeling so many conflicting emotions she had no control over. It didn’t matter what she wanted to feel or not feel; she felt what she did, and what Sara felt scared her.
    Look away. Leave. Before it’s too late. She couldn’t stop herself when she lifted a hand and traced the sharp angle of his cheekbone. He went still, inhaling sharply. For once his face didn’t try to replace Lincoln’s. It was just Lincoln she saw. He was all there was now. Sara let her hand drop and turned away.
    “You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.
    Sara paused, eyes on the door. “I have to.”
    “Why?”
    Her face tried to crumple and Sara locked her jaw to thwart it. “Because I finally see you,” she whispered.
    ***
    In the three weeks since the confrontation between them, Lincoln had kept his distance. They’d had stuttering phone conversations full of long pauses until eventually they’d not even bothered. There was a strain on Sara that had little to do with her husband’s death and more to do with the chasm of confusing emotions between her and Lincoln. How had it all gotten so messed up? Everything had fit; everything had been complete before the wreck, before she’d lost her husband. Now there were just hundreds of puzzle pieces and nowhere to put them.
    Lincoln was at her house now. He’d stopped on his way home from work. Her eyes kept going to him across the table, but words failed her. She didn’t know what to say. Sara