Merry Christmas, Lincoln (A Take Care, Sara Christmas Novelette) by Lindy Zart Page A

cold all the time; cold with dread; cold with frustration; cold with fear.
    The off-duty cop asked for their bill, reaching into his jean’s pocket for cash. He tossed a twenty on the counter and looked at Lincoln. “Look, if you’re worried about her, just ask her what's going on.”
    “I have . She won’t tell me anything.” 
    “ Make her.”
    He snorted. “You know Sara. You can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. She’s stubborn. And she hides. When she’s hurting, she hides. Every time I try to ask her what’s going on, she gets mad or weepy or runs away. She probably thinks she’s protecting me somehow by not telling me whatever is going on, but really she’s just driving me insane.”
    “Tell her that too.”
    Sighing, Lincoln turned toward the door. He swung back around to ask, “How are the wedding plans going?”
    Spencer groaned, flipping the collar of his black jacket up. “Don’t ask.”
    He laughed, only a little bit pacified to know he wasn’t the only one currently miserable. “Gracie going nuts?”
    “You could say that. Actually, it’s her mom more than anything. That woman acts like it’s her wedding.” Spencer shuddered, most likely picturing his soon-to-be mother-in-law as a prospective wife.
    “ She was the same when we got married last November. But I know Sara was grateful to have her. Rachel means well.” He didn’t add the lack of his parents’ involvement, or the strain between them and Sara that had never gone away, though he’d always hoped it would. It was their loss. One day, they would regret it.
    Icy air stung his face as he stepped out of the building and into the Boscobel night, the sky lit up with streetlamps and the white Christmas lights hanging from trees. Even the town was anxious to bypass Thanksgiving. Lincoln hunched his shoulders and ducked his head against the coldness.
    Spencer caught up to him, saying, “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
    Lincoln smirked. “I’ll be glad when I get to see you in a white tux with a pink shirt.”
    He groaned. “Who does that to their fiancé?”
    “ Should have told her Valentine’s Day was out.”
    “ And have her sad face haunt me every day? No. Gracie wanted a Valentine’s Day wedding and I’m going to give that to her.”
    “ Way to man up.”
    They reached their trucks; Lincoln’s a silver Dodge; Spencer’s a red Ford, and faced one another. “You know what makes it bearable?” Spencer asked, grinning. His arms rested on the hood of his truck, his chin on his hands.
    “What?”
    “ The fact that you will be right there next to me, in your white tux with your pink shirt.”
    “ I am so looking forward to that day,” Lincoln replied wryly.
    “ Oh, I know. We all are.” He patted the top of the truck before straightening. “See you at Thanksgiving.”
    “ Wouldn’t miss it.” Lincoln waved and got into his truck, the smile sliding from his lips.
    He stared into the darkened window of an accounting business, thoughts on the woman he loved. His heart raced with urgency to get to her, and though they’d been together over three years, it had yet to dim. Any time apart from Sara was too long. Loving one person so much was scary, especially knowing how easily they could be gone, but because of that there was also not a single moment he didn’t cherish having her as his.
    Hands tense on the steering wheel, a tick formed in his jaw. He couldn’t lose her.
    ***
    ‘I’ll Be Home For Christmas’ played from the stereo system in the living room and he shook his head at Sara’s conformity to the Christmas music before Thanksgiving epidemic. He stood just inside the door, his gaze roving over the wood walls of the place he’d grown up in, but hadn’t felt like home to him until Sara moved in with him. It used to be wood with black accents throughout most of the house, but she’d added creams, browns, and tans to that, softening the look and feel of the log-sided house, adding her