Path of Destruction

by Cara Dee

  "Yeah, I'm up, I'm up," he grumbled.

  I glanced at my phone.

  Not really. What's up?

  I responded.

  Dress warm and meet me in my backyard.

  Chapter 25

  Adeline Ivey

  Holy crap, it was freezing outside. Coat on, mittens on, scarf on, beanie on. Lincoln better make it quick, whatever it was he wanted. Entering Martha's front yard, I bypassed the porch and walked along the side of the house to reach the back.

  What the…? I sniffled and blinked. Lincoln had bought heaters. Why? Seriously, why? He had a whole apartment. I took the first step up on the deck as he sat down on a makeshift couch that, in reality, was two seats from Martha's son's car. They'd been there for as long as I'd lived next door.

  "What're you doing out here?" I asked.

  He looked up and nodded at the seat next to him. "Just sit down. It's warmer here."

  He's lost his mind.

  As I passed the terrace door, I glanced inside an empty living room, illuminated by the Christmas tree in the corner. "Where's your dad?"

  The crazy man was removing his parka. "He went to bed. Sit, goddammit."

  I was ready to scold the bastard for not wearing enough, until I got closer and a wave of warmth washed over me. Huh. Even so, it couldn’t be enough, could it? I plopped down beside him with a huff, only to be taken by surprise when he fanned out his jacket over my lap.

  "There." He got comfortable and lit up a cigarette. "Next time, you can bring coffee. I don’t have a thermos."

  Had he been—"Have you been drinking?" I blurted out.

  "If only." He pulled out a beanie from the pocket of his sweats and put it on. "Can we skip the part where you're shocked to find out I wanna chill with you for a minute?"

  "Do you?" And no, I wasn’t sure we could skip that.

  "Yeah."

  Damn him. Damn him all the way to hell. I looked away as my chest tightened. I was having a crap week, and it wouldn’t take much for me to break. Giving Lincoln space was the best option for him because it was starting to dawn on me just how much I'd missed the son of a bitch, and the last thing he needed was me getting sentimental.

  "I gotta quit hiding from all the shit we haven't talked about." He stared at the snow falling a few feet away from us. "Ironically, I wanna hide it from Pop—for now. He's turning into a mother hen."

  I bit my lip, peering up at him. "Is that why we're out here?"

  Lincoln nodded.

  Truth was, I knew what he was talking about. I adored Keith; the love he had for Lincoln was out of this world. And with Lincoln's release, that amount of care manifested itself as fretting and fussing. I felt for them both.

  "Tell me about Abel," he requested. "I reckon that’s where things started up again. You needed money for him."

  Wow, he was serious. We were doing this.

  So I told Lincoln about Abel. I told him about the highs and lows, the passions and the quirks, the financial struggles that came with his disorders and the fears of someone involving the authorities.

  I admit, I rambled. Couldn’t be helped. Jesse and Abel were essentially my life. I didn’t have much else, until lately. Madigan becoming a family member made me indescribably happy, and I supposed, even hopeful for the future.

  "Is there any risk of the authorities taking him away?"

  "No, not anymore. I'm not sure there ever was," I answered. "Worst-case scenario—realistically—was them starting an investigation. They're excruciating as it is for a boy like him. He can't control his anxiety or fears."

  "Understandable." Lincoln stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. "Did Morgan know the kid had bipolar disorder?"

  "He wasn’t diagnosed yet, but… I mean, Abel's meltdowns are kinda hard to miss."

  "Gotcha." He lowered his gaze to his lap and frowned. "It fucking sucks he's dead. I was a dick to him most of the time."

  I shivered as an icy breeze rolled through, and I huddled closer to Lincoln. "That’s not what he saw." I draped the jacket over him, too. "Of course, he thought you were a dick. You were a dick." I nudged him, and he smirked ruefully. "But he saw your intent, most of all. The whys and hows. He saw what you were trying to do for me." I paused, hesitating. Then…full disclosure was best, wasn’t it? "He never bad-mouthed you, Lincoln. During the trial, I mean. Or after."

  "Yeah," he sighed, "and what the fuck did I do to deserve that friendship?"

  "What did I do to deserve yours?" I asked. "Or his, for that matter. We can't help who we care for and wanna help. I don’t think it has anything to do with what we deserve." I, for one, knew I'd be spending the rest of my life trying to deserve everything Morgan had done for me.

  "I never helped you, Ade." He furrowed his brow at me. "All we did was destroy each other."

  "Don't be ridiculous," I said, getting irritated. "You did so much for me—"

  "You were a kid, and after everything you'd been through…? I should've forced you into rehab."

  "Not your obligation!" I glared up at him.

  I knew he was gonna argue; I could see it in the flash of anger that flared up, but he decided against it. He huffed and shook his head, then sparked up another cigarette.

  "Fuck it," he muttered. "Fighting about who was worst back then is useless."

  "It was me, Lincoln."

  "I swear to fucking Christ, you still make me wanna throttle you."

  A bizarre combo of yearning, mirth, and heartache bubbled up inside me, and I could only grin. I missed this. God, I missed the way we never took each other's bullshit. I called him out on his, and he called me out on mine.

  "Wipe that goddamn smile off your face."

  "I'm trying."

  He cocked a brow. "Are you?"

  "No, not really," I laughed.

  He snorted, trying too hard to be pissy when he wasn’t. I saw him fighting a smirk.

  In the end, he exhaled heavily and relaxed. His gaze returned to the yard, and we were quiet for a while. I hoped he was finding the same sense of relief in our banter that I did. It was one thing that remained consistent.

  "I'm glad you asked me to come over, Lincoln."

  He hummed. "Unfortunately, me too."

  "Still a sweetheart."

  He chuckled and hung his head. "I don't know what to do with you, Ade. I feel better when I'm with you like this—more myself. I don’t gotta tiptoe or pretend. At the same time, there's so much bad history."

  That sobered me in an instant. "I know. I can only speak for myself. You'll have to figure out what it is you want."

  He nodded slowly. "What do you want?"

  This was the kind of brutal honesty I wasn’t sure he should hear. Did he even want it? Though, if I wanted honesty from him, I owed him the same.

  "I miss having you in my life." I averted my eyes, feeling awfully vulnerable. "We got three months together, and ten years later, you're still the person I think of first. That means something to me."

  "Fuck," he whispered.

  "I'm sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear," I said quietly. "I know you struggle being near me—"

  "It's not that." He groaned under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his beard. "It's what you said—about me being that person, even after all this time. I guess…I know that feeling." He side-eyed me, looking tired in more ways than one. "I didn’t think you would. You must've moved on."

  I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, and I could sense my façade cracking. Don't get weepy, don't get weepy. This honesty crap wasn’t honest enough. If I were to tell him everything I had on my mind, it would be ugly. I wanted to yell at him, pound my fists on his chest, and demand to know why he'd throw away ten years of his life for me. He had no fucking right! I hated having that on my conscience, and I would have to live with it forever. Which made me feel like a selfish bitch, because I was free. Was it even okay for me to be upset when he was the one who'd spent so many years behind bars?

  In the same
breath, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and never let go. I missed his hugs, his comfort, his warmth.

  "Shit." I turned away as my eyes welled up. "No, I didn’t fucking move on. How could I?"

  I used to think I was over it. All of it. I was wrong.

  "You're holding something back," he stated. "Think I can't take it?"

  I rolled my eyes and wiped at my cheeks. "Maybe now's not the best time to push this. I think I'm having my period soon, so I'm all over the place."

  He didn’t buy my cheap excuse. Why would he? He'd always seen through me sooner or later.

  "We gotta discuss it eventually," he told me, "but sure, if you wanna take a break…"

  Wasn’t this very out of character? He'd been so reluctant to talk about pretty much anything. Going from ignoring my letters and refusing to let me visit for nine years, and then this… I didn’t know what to make of it.

  "Have you started therapy?" I asked. Maybe his therapist had told him to talk to me.

  "Yeah, why?"

  "Is that why you're insisting on talking to me now?"

  His brow knitted together. "No? I've only had an intro session or whatever. I asked you to come over because I wanted it."

  Oh. Then, why…? What had changed?

  Ugh. Never mind. It was late, I had work in the morning, and I wasn’t feeling too hot. "You're right, Lincoln," I conceded, "we have a lot to talk about." I just need a moment to protect my damn heart. It was evidently at the risk of getting hurt. "Can we pick up another night? I have to get some sleep."

  He nodded with a dip of his chin. "Sure."

  Something had dimmed in his eyes. I didn’t like that one bit. And if the mere idea of causing him pain or disappointing him hurt me, I had to wonder how deeply my feelings ran. Had they only been dormant? Was that even possible?

  "I work a lot of nights up until Christmas, but after that?" I returned the jacket to him and stood up. "I can even be bribed to bring cookies."

  That drew a ghost of a smile from him. "Sounds good."

  "Good." That offered some relief. "By the way, dinner on Christmas Eve. You and your dad are required to come."

  *

  My dreams that night unlocked a bunch of things in my head I wasn’t ready to accept. They put vivid images to fleeting thoughts and made the longing grow stronger. I woke up several times to the fading sensations of hugging Lincoln tightly, feeling his lips on my forehead, and hearing his warm murmurs in my ear. So when my alarm went off at six, I wasn’t sure what I wanted more: to fall back asleep and indulge in imaginary affection, or never to sleep again because I wasn’t that much of a masochist. Or maybe I was.

  With Abel on his winter break, I didn’t have to wake him up. Madigan slept like a log in the living room after coming home late, and Jesse was…up? I blinked sleepily as I entered the kitchen.

  "What're you doing up, hon?" I joined him at the table after grabbing a cup of coffee.

  He yawned. "Couldn’t sleep."

  "Is something wrong?"

  He grimaced at his phone on the table. "I'm trying to figure out how to tell Sarah I don’t wanna date her anymore."

  Uh-oh. "Okay… Not over text, though, right?"

  "It's easier that way," he pointed out.

  I smirked and blew some steam from the cup. "I don't think breakups are supposed to be easy. She deserves a face-to-face conversation, doesn’t she?"

  "I guess." He shrugged and slumped back, clearly not happy with my advice. "Am I weird? She and our friends are always complaining 'cause I don’t wanna go to parties every damn weekend."

  "Of course you're not weird." I scowled. "We like different things."

  "You're obligated to say that," he replied wryly. "People my age party a lot."

  He had a point, but not everyone had his upbringing. "You were forced to grow up faster than most." Reaching over the table, I put my hand on his. "As much as I want to change the past for you, I can't. What I can do is tell you to do what you want now. If you want to go to a party, go. If you want to focus on your studies and take it easy when you're off, that’s what you should do."

  He offered a small nod, then got a bit sheepish. "I may have told Sarah you wouldn’t allow me to go tonight."

  I snorted and sat back again. "Gee, thanks for that one." I winked. "I'll let it slide if you break up with her in person."

  "Fine," he groaned. He watched me as I took my cup to the sink. It was time for me to get ready. "So are you gonna tell me what's up with you lately? You come home all depressed from work."

  I frowned, internally cursing myself. I thought I'd hid that better. "What? I'm fine. Definitely nothing for you to worry about." Walking over to him, I kissed the top of his head and then ruffled his hair. "There're leftovers in the fridge. Don't forget to eat."

  He sighed. "Uh-huh."

  Chapter 26

  Lincoln Hayes

  "We got three months together, and ten years later, you're still the person I think of first."

  Push it. Push it.

  I gnashed my teeth together and sped up the last stretch.

  "I miss having you in my life."

  My lungs burned as Ade's house came into view, then Martha's house. I couldn’t call it mine. Fuck. Maybe running for two hours was pushing it too much. I slowed down when I spotted Abel and Jesse trying to get inside.

  "But I'm cold!" Abel complained.

  I sucked in some frigid air and rubbed at my chest. What the hell were they doing? It was the middle of the day. Abel would have school, right? Oh, wait…winter break.

  "Goddammit," Jesse cursed. He let go of the doorknob and palmed his forehead.

  Were they locked out?

  "Something wrong?" I asked, trying to get my breathing under control.

  While Jesse threw me a fleeting glance before looking away, Abel walked down the porch steps.

  "Jesse forgot his keys inside, and now we can't get in."

  "When's Ade coming home?" I wondered.

  "Her name is Adeline," Jesse said abruptly.

  I lifted a brow, wondering who'd pissed in his cereal. "You got a problem with me, kid?"

  Abel was watching us like a tennis match, and if the lip-biting and the worried gaze were any indication of the anxiety Ade had mentioned he suffered from, maybe I should shut the fuck up.

  "When does your mom get off work?" I asked Abel.

  He bunched up the sleeve of his coat to look at his watch. "Um, at five."

  A few hours 'til then. "You and your brother can hang out at my place if you want. My pop will be back soon, too." I figured they'd spent time with Pop, who was definitely fond of Abel. "He only stepped out to buy some shit."

  "Can we, Jesse?" Abel looked back at his brother.

  What's it gonna be, Jesse? Whatever issue he had with me—which seriously bewildered me—couldn’t be more important than getting out of the cold, could it? Abel was already red-nosed and sniffly.

  "Fine," Jesse said irritably.

  "Lovely," I drawled.

  I took the lead and walked up the path to Martha's house, keys in hand. Having no clue how to entertain kids, I hoped TV and Hot Pockets would work. That’s what I was gonna entertain myself with, anyway.

  Probably while thinking way too much about Ade.

  "In you go, Morgan clones." I pushed the door open.

  "What does that mean?" Abel looked up at me, confused.

  I smirked. "It means you look a lot like your old man."

  "Oh." He shrugged and smiled, then wandered inside the house.

  "You." I put a hand on Jesse's chest, stopping him in the doorway. "We're complete strangers and haven't seen each other since you were two shits high. I'm Lincoln." I removed my hand from him and waited for him to accept the handshake.

  He stared at it before cocking a brow at me. "We may be strangers, but I know enough."

  "Care to enlighten me?" I wasn’t gonna let this punk piss me off.

  "Not really." He pushed past me and headed ins
ide.

  I could be patient, I guess.

  *

  Jesse and Abel were a lot alike. Other than sharing the same blue eyes, the same weirdly streaky hair in brown shades, and the same crooked, kind smile they'd inherited from Morgan, they were older than their years and loyal to family.

  Jesse sure as hell didn’t send a smile my way. Abel's way, however…

  Abel was boyishly curious about everything too, which resulted in a lot of questions. I didn’t mind, for the most part, and I learned things about Jesse by watching him while Abel fired off another question.

  Jesse sat quietly on the end of the couch that was nearest the hallway. Pretending to be busy with his phone. Abel sat on the other end, and I was in my chair, not watching TV.

  "Was prison fun?" Abel wondered. "Did you make any friends?"

  "I wouldn’t recommend it." I yanked off my hoodie, leaving me in a T-shirt. I'd need to shower soon. "I guess I made one friend. He's getting out next year."

  "What's his name? Did he kill anyone?"

  I let out a laugh. "No, he didn’t kill anyone. I call him Kid, but his name's Casey."

  Abel paused with his soda can midair. "They put a kid in prison?"

  "He's not actually a kid," I explained. "He's just a lot younger than me. He's about your brother's age." A couple years older was about the same, right?

  "Oh." He took a gulp of his Coke.

  Jesse side-eyed him. "Don't drink too much. You'll get hyper."

  "But it's freaking delicious." Abel sniffled and licked his lips.

  My mouth twitched. It was clear that Jesse was protective, used to caring for his little brother.

  "You don’t have any gifts under the tree," Abel pointed out.

  "No, we don’t." A crease appeared on my forehead. Was I supposed to bring anything to Ade on the twenty-fourth? Pop and I didn’t exchange gifts in a traditional sense. At least, we hadn't while I was in prison.

  I finished my Hot Pocket, finding the taste bland, and winced at the headache that settled in. Someday, I'd get used to all the new impressions. I hoped. For now, it fucked with my head to have everything changing. Where I was used to seeing a CO tapping his watch, there was now a twelve-year-old pointing out I hadn't done any Christmas shopping.