Rise (Rise & Fall Duet #1) - Grahame Claire Page 0,45

the ice cream.

Good to know. My ice cream is more appealing than I am.

Probably was for the best anyway. I only had room for one man in my life and that space was already occupied.

“We missed you at dinner.”

Lincoln hesitated at Eric’s words. They weren’t malicious. They weren’t a reminder of a transgression. My brother simply meant what he’d said.

I imagined for people who weren’t used to that kind of genuineness it was hard to process and accept. And it made it difficult for me to give Lincoln a piece of my mind for standing us—mostly Eric—up. He had a phone and I was pretty sure he knew how to use it. How hard would it have been to send a text? Lincoln should be thanking my brother that I wasn’t chewing him out right about now.

“I apologize. Again.” He let the spoon fall into the container. “I seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

“You’re forgiven,” Eric said, speaking on behalf of both of us. “Oh! I have something for you.” He raced to his bedroom.

“Whatever happened must be bad if you’re on our doorstep needing ice cream.” I leaned forward and put my elbows on the counter, letting some of my irritation with him go.

“I should’ve called.” He scooped a bite into his mouth and savored it when it hit his tongue.

“No. You actually did it right. Ice cream emergencies aren’t phoned in.” I pointed to the nearly empty container. “But I hope you can hold off a few days before you have another one because that’s all we’ve got left, buddy.”

He made a noise I couldn’t figure out what it meant. “And a replacement can’t be bought.”

Ah. Lincoln was used to being able to purchase whatever he needed on a whim.

“Not available in stores.” I found myself smiling because I had something he couldn’t get anywhere else.

“Can you help me, sis?” Eric was breathless as he dragged the canvas into the room.

“Allow me.” Lincoln stood from the barstool.

“No,” Eric said quickly. “You sit so I can show you.”

Albeit in slow motion, Lincoln did as instructed.

I picked up the end of the canvas that was on the carpet.

“Don’t let him see yet,” Eric whispered urgently.

“I won’t.”

We toted it a few steps closer.

“On three,” Eric said. “One. Two. Three.”

We spun, revealing the painting Eric had completed in art class. Lincoln’s expression was back to unfeeling rock as he took in the cabin on a lake scene.

“It’s for you.” Eric lifted up his end a little. “I made it.”

“I can’t accept this.”

When Lincoln finally spoke, Eric’s face fell.

“But I made it for you.”

Lincoln’s expression turned to confused rock. “It’s fantastic.”

Eric perked up again. “I knew you’d like it.”

“It is amazing,” I said brightly, trying to keep my brother from being disappointed when Lincoln rejected him again. “We could hang it right there.” I pointed to an empty space above the old television set.

“No.” Lincoln’s voice was sharp. “It’s a gift. I’m taking the painting.”

I nearly dropped my end of the canvas. Where had insistent rock come from?

“We could deliver it to you in the van. There’s lots of room in there.”

I smiled at Eric’s thoughtfulness as we carefully propped the painting against the sofa.

“Thank you, but I believe I’ll carry it with me this evening.”

Hello, stuffy rock.

Did he talk like that in bed? Not that I cared. I yanked on my ponytail, irritated I’d even thought about that man in the bedroom.

Eric yawned. “I gotta go to sleep. Good night, Lincoln. See you Sunday.” He kissed my cheek and disappeared like a whirlwind.

I stared after my brother, constantly amazed by him.

“You still haven’t finished that?” I pointed to the ice cream.

“I’m taking my time.”

I swallowed hard. With the ice cream, Lexie. Not you.

“Wanna tell me what spurred this ice cream emergency?” I sank onto the sofa, a safe distance from Lincoln and all that energy that seemed to beam from his orbit.

He picked up the carton and joined me. So much for distance.

He didn’t say anything for a long time, and I got that. If he’d have asked me about my bad day, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it either.

“He’s talented.”

Something that felt an awful lot like disappointment coursed through me. I’d only asked about his day—well, I didn’t really know what had prompted the question. It wasn’t my business and I didn’t care. At least I didn’t think I did.

Apparently, we were only good enough for ice cream, not opening up with words.

“Incredibly so.” I pulled my