Page 97 of Steady Stroke
Something like that.
Emmett closed his eyes and counted backward from twenty. The heavy stone of guilt was still crushing his insides, but he felt less apt to fall apart. No one here was going to hurt him. These people weren’t the enemy.
The bathroom must have emptied, because in the quiet he heard the swish of the door opening. “Em?”
He stood and opened the stall door. Lincoln stood by the first sink, so concerned that Emmett couldn’t lie to him. “I had a panic attack.”
“I figured.” Lincoln closed the distance between them and squeezed Emmett’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. Mercy wanted to dance, and I couldn’t say no.”
“It’s okay. I got through it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You want to head home?”
Emmett did, very much so, but he’d made a bargain with Lincoln. “I still owe you a dance.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He brushed his lips over his boyfriend’s. “I want to. For both of us. I want to dance with you at your sister’s wedding.”
Lincoln’s eyes softened. “I don’t deserve you.”
You deserve so much better than me.
“Come on,” Emmett said instead.
He clung tight to Lincoln’s hand on the walk back to the ballroom. Every pair of eyeballs in the place seemed like they were glued on them, even though that was ridiculous. If anyone cared that two men were holding hands, they kept it to themselves. Lincoln led him to the edge of the dance floor, where at least two dozen people were trying to do the Electric Slide without much success, led by the bride. She tried to wave them in, but Lincoln held his ground.
The next song was a fast one, too, so they held back. Emmett liked watching other people cut loose and laugh it up. It helped loosen him up a bit more, until he was swaying with the beat. Lincoln seemed to be waiting for a slow one, though, because eventually the DJ took to the microphone. “Let’s have all the couples out there come to the dance floor for this next one,” he said.
Lincoln pulled him out to the wood floor in a tide of people exiting and entering.
“This song is a special request from the brother of the bride.”
Emmett startled. Lincoln only laughed and wrapped his arms around Emmett’s waist. Emmett rested his hands on Lincoln’s shoulders and waited. The first haunting strains of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” drifted over him, and Emmett’s heart tripped. Lincoln led him in a slow spin, their feet barely lifting as they moved, dancing to one of their songs.
He couldn’t resist singing along, quietly, so only Lincoln could hear. He nearly lost himself in the depths of Lincoln’s eyes and in the beauty of the song itself. All he knew was Lincoln and love and heat and always, and it shattered Emmett to know they didn’t have always. They never would. Emmett loved Lincoln too much to keep lying.
I have to tell him the truth, even if it means losing him.
Not right then, though. Later. He didn’t want anything to ruin this moment, or to destroy Lincoln’s memories of the wedding. So he held tight to his love and his boyfriend, and for a tiny fraction of time, Emmett danced and he was free.
Lincoln dozed a bit on the drive back to Philadelphia. He hated sleeping if someone else was doing all the driving—checking out always felt way rude—but he’d had a second Jack and Coke on top of a migraine pill, so staying awake was proving difficult.
The entire day had gone better than he expected. He never did speak to his parents, and he was very much okay with that. They’d ended things eight years ago. Today had only served as a reminder that nothing had changed and never would. Lincoln had a whole new family, so all was well.
He was also insanely proud of Emmett for not only working through a panic attack on his own, but for coming out of that and dancing with Lincoln. Those few minutes meant the world and more to Lincoln. Emmett had left the wedding subdued, but Lincoln wasn’t worried. He’d had an emotional day, on top of ten hours of roundtrip driving.
Emmett deserved a special treat when they got back.
They pulled into the driveway around ten. Lights were still on in the living room. After a cursory greeting to Robert and Zelda, they went upstairs. Lincoln was too exhausted to manage that special treat, and Emmett didn’t seem up to more than undressing and snuggling close under the covers. So they slept. He woke up hard, and Emmett helped him out with great enthusiasm. Lincoln stifled his release with a pillow over his face, then reached for Emmett, who was soft in his shorts.
“Still stressed about yesterday, I guess,” he said.
Lincoln licked a spot of spunk off his chin. “Now I feel selfish.”
