It’s times like this I wish I smoked. I only say that because I feel like it would be relaxing on nights like tonight. I don’t though. A girl with a history of heart problems probably shouldn’t do anything to shorten her life any more. Some might think since I had a heart transplant, I should be in the clear, right? Not exactly. I have a way stronger chance of survival now, but my body could decide to reject the heart. It’s been nearly six years, but with every year that passes, I’m aware of the risks that come with being a transplant survivor. Cancer, infection, and a long list of side effects. Not to mention the medications I’m on. Let’s just say I live an extremely boring life. Can’t drink, smoke, do drugs. All the good shit is off the table. Aside from sex. So… there’s that.
I don’t mean for it to happen, at least I don’t think I do, but the moment I think of sex, my eyes wander to the bar and the window he’s sitting in front of. He’s still leaned back against the brick wall, he has a drink in his hand, but it’s the smile on his face that draws me in. It’s just as beautiful as him. Full and happy, it even touches his eyes. His hand lifts, his beer meeting his lips, and then he looks outside. Tucked away in the shadows, there’s no way he can see me through the window, but it feels like maybe he can.
“Journey?” Avie yells. “You out here?”
Damn it. He caught me. I step from the shadows and around the corner to the back door. “Yeah, just getting some air.”
With his hand on the doorframe, he sighs, his brows knitting together. “Are you feeling okay?”
I nod and take another step toward him. “I’m fine.” Truthfully, I don’t know if I’d tell him if I wasn’t. Avie has spent too much time and money trying to keep me alive.
“Table four needs another round,” he mumbles, walking ahead of me as the door swings shut behind us.
Taking in a breath filled with stale beer and fried food, I make my way back inside. Approaching the table, I catch wind of him talking to his brother. “There’s nothing wrong with fishing the coast up to La Push.”
I clear my throat, and the only one who doesn’t look at me is Lincoln. “Another round, boys?”
Communitive nods fill the table, but it’s his I’m waiting on. With a quick lift, he glances at me, then away. “Another round?” his brother asks him.
“No.” Lincoln pushes his empty glass away from him.
The idea of him leaving terrifies me for reasons I don’t understand, and I’m suddenly talking before I know what I’m saying. “Round’s on us.”
Avie is going to kill me.
“In that case…” His brother chuckles, handing me the empty pitcher. “Another round, honey.”
I wish your brother was calling me honey and fucking me at the same time.
Oh, my God. Where did that come from? My body heats at my thoughts. I reach for the pitcher of beer at the same time Lincoln is staring at my chest. I’m careful not to wear low-cut shirts as I hate the questions that follow when they see my scar. It’s always the same one response of “You’re so young.”
Yeah, well, not too young to have a heart problem.
With the pitcher in hand, I turn around toward the bar. Mal and Presley are there, smiling at me. The second I’m within earshot, they’re all over me with questions. “What’s with you and the fisherman in the corner?” Mal asks.
I’m secretly in love with him and wouldn’t mind having his beautiful babies. I pretend like I don’t know who they’re talking about. “Huh?”
“Him.” Mal points to Lincoln. “He’s been watching you all night like he wants to take a bite out of you.”
I’d let him. I can’t describe it or even understand it, but the draw to him is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. As if my soul knows him from previous lives and we’re connected. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Instead of handing the pitcher to Mal, who’s keeping their tab, I fill it myself.
“Who are they?” Mal asks, looking to Presley for an answer.
“The one next to the wall is Lincoln, and the other one is his younger brother, Bear. They’re fishermen from Ilwaco.” Presley nods to the table. “The other two are from the Ashara.