Capture (Seaside Pictures 1)

"This…" Lincoln stopped in front of a giant bonfire, complete with two lawn chairs, enough blankets to keep us warm during a blizzard, and what looked like snacks with a canister of either coffee or hot chocolate.

I started toward camp, but he jerked me back. "Not so fast."

"What? Why?"

"We never celebrated, you know." His voice was barely above a whisper. The ocean threatened to drown him out. "You talking, you being able to talk instead of having to text everything. Nobody speaks about it. It's almost like you've been talking this whole time, but I feel moments like that deserve to be mentioned, they deserve to be celebrated. So tonight… we're celebrating."

Tears welled in my eyes, because he'd found the one vulnerable spot that I'd pushed back into my subconscious, ignored, because paying attention to it freaked me out with worry that it would come back, only worse this time.

"Thanks—" I held a sob in. "—for doing this."

"And…" Linc dug into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. "… since milestones are supposed to be remembered, I had this made."

It was a small gold-chained necklace with a little plate anchoring the front. On it was the date I started talking again.

"I can't believe you did this." I grabbed the necklace; it was heavy in my hands. Holy crap, it had to be real gold. No guy had ever gotten me a present before. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah well, I won it at the arcade downtown, and wouldn't you know? It was the exact date I was looking for." He winked. I loved that about him, his ability to make light of something that had been nothing but darkness for so long, it was hard to remember light had even existed in the first place. "Want me to help you put it on?"

Nodding, I handed him the necklace and turned as he slowly fastened it then kissed my bare neck. "Perfect."

He was perfect.

Or pretty dang close.

"So, what's on the menu?"

"Oh that?" He pointed to the canister. "Alcohol, so I can get you drunk and have my way with you."

I rolled my eyes.

"Or…" He nodded. "… hot chocolate, though they were completely out of marshmallows at the store.

I smiled to myself. "Yeah, I think I know why."

"Good looking, I'll give him that…" Linc started pouring the hot chocolate out of the thermos and into two cups. "… but odd, don't you think?"

"Eh, we all have our things. You have Skittles. He has marshmallows."

"Having a candy obsession is completely normal," he said defensively.

"It's all sugar. All weird." I took my mug from his hands and sipped. "Hmm, homemade?"

"Yes, I slaved over a stove, boiled water, and added those little packets into the water, then stirred. Blood, sweat, and tears sweetheart."

"It shows." I nodded seriously as I tried to keep the smile from my face.

He held up his hand. "Paper cut to prove my worth."

"Aw," I grabbed his outstretched hand and kissed it. "Better?"

"Always." His eyes flashed, and I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead, he glanced back at the fire and dropped my hand. "So, how are things?"

"Small talk?"

"Yup." He sipped his hot chocolate.

"Really?" I was a bit surprised he wasn't already kissing me and telling me all the reasons we shouldn't be together, yet making it impossible for us to be apart.

"Friends have small talk… and friends that kiss… well, they need to fill the time with something other than kissing so that friends doesn't turn into something else before one or both are ready." It felt like he was saying that more for his own sake than mine.

"I'm ready."

"You're… not." He frowned, staring into the fire. "So, I'll ask again. How are things?"

"Things are… good." I nodded, trying to play along. I'd always been bad with small talk, especially after the accident, when words were so much more than things you tossed into the cosmos just to hear yourself talk. Words held meaning; they held power.

"You hesitated." When I looked up, Linc was staring right through me.

I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Did I?"

"I really want to know."

I let out a huff of breath. "Things are fine, except when I go to sleep. Then, not so good." Just thinking of last night's nightmare of the accident had me shivering all over again. This time I was in the driver's seat, and it was my fault we hit the other truck head on.

"How so?" He scooted closer to me, then, as if giving up, pulled me into his lap and covered us with a blanket.

I cuddled into his chest, feeling more secure in his arms than I'd ever felt in Elliot's. "I go to bed happy that I've been talking all day, relieved that when the old lady at the crosswalk asked me what the time was, I didn't completely freak out and then, when I close my eyes, it's like I'm either experiencing the accident all over again or—" I gulped. "—I try to talk to you and fail, and you walk away."

"If I was going to walk away, I would have walked," Lincoln said simply. "I'm here. Right. Here." His arms braced me harder. "As for the no-talking thing, I think it's normal for you to have that fear. It makes sense to me. You literally just started talking again, and you're afraid that it's going to get ripped away from you, stolen."