“Fuck no.” Jacob shook his head before he straightened. “Mom sent me.”
Funny how three simple words could make his gut churn, memories of the last time Jacob had been in his driveway bearing news swarming him, making it impossible to step off the porch.
“What are you doing here?” Only the fact that the dogs had raised a ruckus had brought Linc off the couch, and one look at Jacob’s face had him wishing he’d stayed put, waited for him to give up and leave.
“Mom sent me.” Jacob’s face, usually so playful, was as somber as Linc had ever seen it.
“Oh.” Fuck. He’d been expecting that. Didn’t make it any easier. But he’d been expecting it. Best to just get it over with. “There won’t be any trouble. I don’t have to go. Last thing I want is her bothered.”
“What the hell?” Jacob blinked up at him, eyes red rimmed and lines around his mouth that weren’t there a few days ago. “That’s exactly the sort of crazy talk she sent me here to put a stop to. Said you didn’t answer her texts.”
“Didn’t know what to say.”
“How about yes? As in yes, you’ll be there. She wants you to be a pallbearer, needs to know you got the message, that you’re not too injured to help, and that you’ve got a suit.”
Humbled to his core, Linc sank to the porch steps, surprised when Jacob joined him, further shocked when Jacob threw an arm around him. “Don’t know if I can do that,” he whispered.
“Because you’re injured?”
God, it would be so easy to lie to anyone other than Jacob, who always seemed to pull deep truths loose from Linc’s chest. “Because it’s my fault.”
Nearly nine months later, and he still felt the truth of those words, still the same humility that Jenna and the rest of the Hartman family wanted a damn thing to do with him. The official cause of death had been equipment failure combined with a bad landing—Wyatt had been treed due to high winds, and he’d come in hard, then a connector had broken, sending him plummeting before Garrick and Linc could reach him. Everyone said it was a fluke and part of the risk of doing the job, but Linc couldn’t shake the guilt over not reaching him in time and over possibly missing something when cross-checking Wyatt’s equipment.
“What does your mom need?” Somehow he got the question out in a normal voice.
“It’s her birthday next week. Sunday. We’re going to have a party for her. Food. Cake. The usual. And she wants you there.” The porch lights danced off Jacob’s hair as he came to stand in front of Linc on the porch. No way, no how was he letting Jacob in the house.
“Sunday? I might have plans. I promised to help Ray get in better shape.” Of course that was scheduled for early in the morning, but Jacob didn’t need to know that. But judging from how his eyes narrowed, he saw right through Linc’s pretext anyway.
“All day? We’re talking late afternoon. You can spare a couple of hours, make her happy. Hell, bring Ray along if you want. She likes his wife and kids. But she seems set on you making an appearance.”
“I’ll see.” Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he tried to will Jacob back to his truck, errand completed. But Jacob didn’t seem in any hurry, leaning against the porch rail and idly scratching Bandit’s head.
“Linc. Can’t you set aside how pissed you are at me for an afternoon?”
He didn’t know how to tell Jacob that it wasn’t him that he was mad at but rather himself, so he just shrugged.
“People are starting to notice how you never want to show up when I’m around. I swear that’s why she insisted that I be the one to do the asking. And I get it, okay? Everything’s awkward now. But it doesn’t have to be.”
But it did. He didn’t know how to make it stop, all the snippets of memories that assaulted him every damn time he saw Jacob. And maybe Jacob could forget, but he couldn’t.
Mouths. Hands. Desperate clutching need. Overwhelming grief.
“Don’t send me away.”
“I’ve got you.”
Regret, sharp and swift.
The regret and recriminations tinged every replay, to the point that all he could handle were little flashes, and guilt that kept him away from the family. But he owed Jenna.
“I’ll come.” He forced out the words. Jacob was wrong, of course. There wasn’t an alternative to awkward and stilted, at least not one he’d found.
“Good.” Jacob’s face softened, a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn’t often there. “We were friends once, right?”
Fuck. Linc had to swallow hard. He really was an asshole of the first degree. It hadn’t occurred to him that Jacob might have noticed his absence, let alone cared. And certainly not enough to hurt. Jacob was tough as they came. No way could Linc wound him. Except maybe he had.
“We were,” he allowed, even though that was something of a lie. His traitorous body hadn’t allowed him anything as benign as friendship with Jacob in almost six years, and he wasn’t expecting a truce to make a lick of difference in that regard, but he also hated the idea that he’d hurt Jacob.
“Would it be that hard to try for, I don’t know, maybe civil? Not avoiding? We’re going to work together all season. It seems like the least we could do is try to get along.”
“I’ll do better.” Trying might kill him, but he’d walk over glass before he intentionally harmed Jacob. “But don’t ask me to be happy about you joining the crew. It’s a bad idea, and you’re not gonna sway me otherwise.”
“Fair enough. You not acting like I’m radioactive would be a nice improvement, so thank you.”
“I’ll try.” Linc couldn’t deny acting like that. Truth was that Jacob was his kryptonite, always had been, and he was but a mortal man. So he’d done what felt like the only sensible thing and given him a wide berth.
“You’re not going to ask me in, are you?” Jacob shook his head, resignation in his eyes before turning his attention back to the dogs, who were soaking up all the pats and head scratches. “Your owner’s a big scaredy-cat, thinking I’m gonna drag him to the bedroom, relieve him of all that needless virtue.”
“You tell yourself that.” Linc matched him light tone for light tone, body remembering how good banter with Jacob felt even as his brain continued to churn. And actually, Linc was worried that he would be the one doing the dragging and the corrupting.
“Anyway, I said my piece. Don’t let Mom down.” Stretching, Jacob stopped playing with the dogs, waving them away.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” With any luck and a whole lot of willpower where Jacob was concerned, he never would. “Surprised she’s not madder that I didn’t succeed in talking you out of this notion of yours.”