Afflicted

"Yeah I had to take her to the shop. Couldn't fix her myself in the end." He ran a hand through his dark hair and leant back against the steps.

"Oh. What's wrong with... her?" I asked finding it strange to refer to a truck like it was a person.

"Well if I knew, I'd have fixed it." He smiled at me again and I twisted my hands together awkwardly. “So what was so amusing then?”

“I just played a little trick on Reese,” I explained, feeling about as mature as a two year old.

“Nice to know some things never change then,” he smiled at me and I couldn't help but notice how much he had changed. The wiry teenager I'd known had grown up; his chest was a lot broader and his arms were thick with muscle. His dark hair which had always been long enough to tuck behind his ears was now cropped short on the sides and slicked back on top.

"Linc..." I began as I took a step towards him then stopped.

He patted the step beside him invitingly and I headed over to join him, pleased that I wouldn't have to stand in front of him like I was giving a performance.

As I approached the porch, I realised that I'd been wrong about things getting less awkward. The steps were long and I could easily sit right beside him or three feet away at the opposite end of them or anywhere in between. I made a snap decision and sat bang in the middle, arranging my dress so that I didn't end up accidentally flashing him and making the whole thing even worse.

"It's been a long time Katy," Linc said slowly when I failed to continue. "I didn't think I'd ever come back here."

"You didn't?" I asked.

"No. I had no intention to return until I got the call about him."

I nodded. His dad had died a few weeks ago and I'd wondered if it might have meant Linc would show up. When he didn't appear for the funeral I'd presumed he wasn't going to. But then my mom got speaking to his and found out he was coming to see her after all. I'd been waiting for him to arrive ever since but no matter how many times I'd rehearsed this conversation in my mind, it wasn't making it any easier to have now. Just tell him.

"You didn't miss it here then?" I asked quietly, trying not to feel hurt that he hadn't wanted to see me ever again.

He leant forward with his forearms on his knees and look

ed out towards my house.

"That's what I missed," he said, pointing towards it.

"My house?" I asked, feeling like I was missing something.

"Being welcome somewhere," he explained. "Your mom's door was always open for me."

"You were family," I said, wincing as I realised I'd used the past tense.

"Almost."

We sat in silence for a few minutes and I glanced at him several times, unsure how to phrase what I needed to say.

"I'm sorry I got you sent away," I said quietly, unable to bring myself to look at him as I said it.

Lincoln let out a surprised laugh. "How was it your fault?" he asked. "I didn't see you swinging that baseball bat at anyone."

I turned towards him with a frown. He was looking at me like I amused him and I realised with a sinking feeling that he didn't know it was me.

"I'm the one who called the police," I admitted, feeling like I might be sick. "I'm the reason they took you away." I could feel tears prickling in my eyes and blinked furiously to stop them from falling. "It's my fault-"

"Of course it's not," Lincoln shook his head. "It was that bastard's fault, like every other shit thing that I've ever had to-" he paused and ran a hand over his face. "But he's dead now. And good riddance."

I couldn't help but smile at that. When I'd heard about his dad's death there wasn't one bit of me that had been sad about it.

"I still can't forgive myself for calling them," I said quietly, swiping at a tear that had managed to escape. "But I really thought he was going to kill you."

The memory of that night was seared into my brain. Their windows had been open and I'd listened as the shouting turned into screaming. I could still hear the sound of flesh pounding flesh. I'd been so afraid for Lincoln that I'd called for help without thinking about what else it could mean for him.

I hadn't known that Lincoln had finally had enough, that he had finally been pushed so far that he was going to fight back. When the police turned up they found him swinging a baseball bat. His dad had two broken ribs and was lucky he hadn't ended up with worse. The bastard had twisted it all to sound like Linc had attacked him and not the other way around. And his mom was too afraid to tell the truth so they'd taken him away. I hadn't seen him since.