Page 73 of Steady Stroke
Emmett didn’t seem to know where to look first.
“You want a tour of the place?” Lincoln asked.
“Sure.”
The downstairs was pretty basic, with the large living room, a formal dining room, the kitchen, and a laundry room off to the side. Emmett took in all of the details that Lincoln never paid much attention to, like the rows of family photos that lined all of the hallways, or the cherry wainscoting in the dining room. The faint apricot scents that several plug-ins gave the air. A black mark on the hardwood floor in the corner of the living room that Dominic had once admitted to having created by playing with matches indoors.
The house had a rich history of the seven people who’d lived here over the last thirty years, and Emmett seemed to revel in learning all of the details. Details Roxy or even Zelda would be better at giving him, but Lincoln knew a lot. Twice, for vastly different reasons, this had been his home, too.
Upstairs, Lincoln pointed out whose room was whose. The only door he pushed open was to Dominic’s room, which had been Lincoln’s for nearly a year while he recovered from his head injury. Part of him recoiled against going inside, and Emmett noticed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure.” Lincoln touched the varnished wood framing the doorway. “I spent months in here, learning how to walk from one end of the room to the other without getting dizzy and falling down. I even had a piss bottle in case I couldn’t get across the hall fast enough.” A warm arm wrapped around his waist, and he leaned against Emmett’s chest. “It sucked. That part of my life really fucking sucked.”
“I know it did. But you got through it, and you’re alive.”
“Yeah. We both are.”
Emmett rested his chin on Lincoln’s shoulder. “Yeah, we are. What a funny pair of scarred, screwed-up survivors we are.”
“We’re perfect for each other.”
“I’d say so.”
Lincoln led him back downstairs, because all of the gooey talk near a bed was waking up his dick, and he didn’t need to introduce Emmett to Robert with a boner. He helped himself to coffee from the kitchen; Emmett took a glass of water. They were all in the living room listening to Roxy natter on about a rude customer the night before when Robert’s heavy footsteps creaked down the staircase.
Emmett went completely stiff. “I’ve never been introduced to anyone’s father before,” he’d confessed the night before, as they lay tangled together, naked and sweaty. Lincoln had laughed and kissed him and assured him that he had nothing to fear.
Trouble was, Robert Bounds was a scary-looking dude at first glance. Six foot four, barrel-chested, with big arms and tree-stump legs, he looked like a pro wrestler. But despite the bruiser exterior, the man had a marshmallow center—especially where his family was concerned.
Roxy rushed him before he hit the bottom step, squealing like a child. “Happy Father’s Day!”
Lincoln stood, and Emmett followed suit. Lincoln received a hug and a gentle back slap, and then Robert held out a meaty hand to Emmett. “Pleased to meet you, son,” he said.
“As am I,” Emmett said. “You have a lovely home.”
“Thank you. Anyone Lincoln there has seen fit to finally bring home is always welcome here.”
“Um, thank you.” Emmett seemed a bit stunned, and yeah,okay, so Lincoln had never brought a guy over to meet them before. He’d never met one worth the effort.
He’d never met one he wanted to do anything and everything possible to keep in his life. Emmett was that guy.
“Are you from the shore, then?” Robert asked as he settled into his recliner.
The action signaled everyone else to sit. Lincoln stayed close on the couch cushion without invading Emmett’s space too much.
“Not originally, no,” Emmett replied. “I grew up in Baltimore County. My aunt Beatrice was married to my mother’s brother, but he passed away when I was very young. I moved in with her and my cousin last summer.”
“I see. In school?”
“I’ll be taking classes online in the fall again, yes. I haven’t really decided on a major yet.”
“He needs to pursue singing,” Lincoln said. Maybe his praise would embarrass Emmett a little, but he couldn’t help it. He was crazy proud of how amazing Emmett’s voice was—a voice more of the world needed to hear. “He’s just as good as Trey, if not better.”
“I’m not better,” Emmett said. “I have a different range than Trey.”
“Whatever. You’re amazing.”
