“You’re an idiot, Lincoln Knight,” I murmur, wiping Lincoln’s hands with a warm wet washer.

He’s a mess. Blood everywhere. Busted up face. Sore bruised body. Hands that are all swollen and sore. Damon called me tonight, telling me to go to Lincoln’s place because he needed assistance and he didn’t think he’d accept it from anyone else. Confused, I stopped what I was doing, which was watching Supernatural with Lucy, and drove straight over.

There I found Lincoln an absolute mess.

Damon told me him and Slater got into a fight, a big fight, but it had to happen.

He said Slater looks just as bad, but the guy Lincoln insisted on fighting before Slater, is even worse.

He looks terrible, and no doubt when he wakes in the morning he’s going to feel terrible. Hell, I’m still feeling sorry for myself over a black eye, because damn that hurt, but Lincoln is covered in wounds, battle scars, broken pieces.

Poor guy.

“Yeah,” Lincoln mutters at my words, and stares down at his hands as I try very hard to clean them up so I can put some ice on them.

Then I’ve got to move to that face. That bloodied face. Swollen lip, black eye, busted pieces of skin.

Idiot.

“What happened?” I ask, finishing up with one hand and moving to the next.

“You already know, heard Damon tell you.”

“I’m not asking for Damon’s version, I’m asking for yours.”

“And why should I tell you?” he growls, and he’s angry still, I can feel it. “You don’t tell me fuck all.”

I give him a look. “Don’t tell me then, I’m not going to force you. But don’t be a dick about it. If you don’t want to, then don’t. End of story.”

He exhales, slightly wincing when I move over a very swollen knuckle, and then mutters, “Been a long time comin’.”

I don’t say anything.

I just listen.

If he wants to tell me more, he can. But I won’t force him, because he’s right, I chose not to tell him my story, and I certainly didn’t like people pushing me to.

“After our mom died, our dad became a drunk,” Lincoln tells me, some of this I already know, but I want to know deeper details. “He was fuckin’ broken, ruined, wastin’ away. I wanted to put him into rehab. Slater didn’t. And so started the fuckin’ chain of clashin’ between us. I got my way, Dad went to rehab, but I couldn’t pay the bills. I started dealin’ drugs. Fucked it up. Got into trouble. Slater jumped in to pull me out of trouble and got into trouble himself. Causing Ellie to be taken. Chain reaction. I started it, Slater finished it. We both held a fuck load of guilt over what happened to her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, because I am. I honestly am. That sucks. It sucks for all of them because they’re all living with that guilt, and even though it was an awful situation, they had good intentions. They were trying to help family.

They’re close. They’re right. They’re not the kind of people who would intentionally hurt someone they loved.

I know that, and I’ve only known them for a little while.

“Can’t be changed, but it has been eatin’ at us for a long time. Tonight, we ended that.”

Makes sense, and I honestly can’t judge them for it.

Men have their own way of dealing with things, and this is how they best felt to deal with their situation. And it probably worked. They’re going to be sore and sorry for it, but they got it out, they dealt with it, and now maybe they can move on together without the guilt and anger hanging over their heads.

“I hope it’s all over for you, because you guys, you’re lucky to have each other. It would be a shame to let the past eat away at the bond you’ve all created.”

Lincoln looks to me, holding my eyes. “Lived with guilt for so long I just don’t have the strength to live with it anymore. I’m so fuckin’ tired it hurts.”

Those words hit me right in the heart, because I do feel for him. Living with that, knowing you ruined your brother’s life, that would have been hard. God, no, it would have been awful. Nobody deserves that.

I find myself cupping his jaw, looking into his eyes. “Ellie is home now. She’s okay now. Yes, she’s had a lot to deal with, but she’s alive, and she’s here, and the past can’t be changed. You don’t deserve to suffer forever, Lincoln.”

“No,” he says, still holding my eyes, “No, I don’t.”

I smile at him, as kindly as I can. He doesn’t return it, but his eyes soften. I let him go and keep cleaning him up.

He exhales, loudly, and then murmurs, “Fuck, I gotta tell you something.”

I look up at him, finishing up with his final hand and say, “Just let me fetch a clean bowl of water. Then you can tell me.”

I empty the water and get a clean, fresh bowl, and then I walk back into the living room where he’s sitting. I’m not sure I liked the tone in which he just told me has something I need to know. Because it makes me nervous. What if it’s bad? What if it’s news that I really don’t want to hear? What if ... What if Nicolai is gone? Something has happened to him? Worse? And they’re all too scared to tell me.

Taking a deep breath, I sit down, calm myself, and get to work cleaning his face. Then, and only then, I say, “Okay, what is it?”

He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s honestly not sure how to tell me what he’s about to tell me.

“Found Nicolai.”

I pull back, staring at him. So many things go through my mind in that moment. So many things. Is he okay? Where does he live? I want to know everything, absolutely everything, but instead, I keep my cool, taking deep breaths to stop myself from freaking out. I knew they were looking for Yana in hopes of finding Nicolai; I didn’t realize they’d come so close to Nicolai.

“I thought ... I didn’t think you had anything to go on,” I say, my voice is shaky, but I can’t stop it.

I’ve waited for this moment for so damned long.

“Well, we didn’t. So we went lookin’ for this Yana bird. Followed her home. Turns out she’s livin’ with Nicolai. Didn’t think it would be so easy, but there you have it. It was.”

My head spins.

No.

No.

Fucking no.

“They’re living together?” I wheeze out, chest constricting, heart racing, mind swimming. “But ...”

Lincoln studies me, frowning. “You okay? You don’t look good.”

“Are you sure they’re living together?” I say, my voice a little snappier than I’d like.

But I need to know.

I need to know now.

“As far as we can tell, yes. They’ve even got a kid together. Pretty certain they’re together.”

No.

My mind spins so rapidly I drop the cloth in my hand and stumble backward, heart aching, body tense. This can’t be happening. It can’t be. No. Why would he do that? Why would he go to her? Why would they be a couple? Why would he do this to me? Why? Of all the million people in the world, why in the ever loving hell would he choose to be with Yana?

Tears are streaming down my face.

I can’t breathe.

I’m going to pass out.

I start stammering quickly, “What’s the address? What is it?”

“Shania, you’re scarin’ me.”

Lincoln is on his feet now.

“Please,” I beg. “Please, tell me the address.”

“Don’t know that’s a good idea when you’re like this. You don’t look like you’re dealin’.”

“Tell me!” I scream. “God dammit, Lincoln, tell me.”

He grabs my shoulders, grounding me just a little, shaking me a little more. He growls at me to look at him and doesn’t ease his hold on me until I do.

When my eyes meet his, he releases his grip just a little, and says, “You’re actin’ crazy. You’re not goin’ to do anyone any good goin’ in there like this. So, until you calm down, I will not tell you that address.”

“You have no right to keep it from me,” I stammer. “Please, it’s important. I need to go. Right now ...”

“Why? Tell me why? Give me one good fuckin’ reason why you’re goin’ to run to a man and his woman’s house late at night, and bother them, disturb their night, their child’s night. Give me a good fuckin’ reason, Shania?”

“Because that isn’t their child!” I scream, so loudly I swear I feel him flinch. “It’s my fucking child. That is my child, Lincoln.”

Lincoln stares at me. I’m panting. His expression is blank.

“That’s my baby, and I want him back.”

~*~*~*~