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

 
     
     
    Merry Christmas, Lincoln (A Take Care, Sara Christmas Novelette)
     
     
    Merry Christmas, Lincoln (A Take Care, Sara Christmas Novelette)
    Published 2013 by Lindy Zart
    Copy right 2013 Lindy Zart
    Cover design 2013 by Juli Valenti
     
     
    This book is a work of fiction.
    Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,
    living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
     
    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
     
     
    This is dedicated to everyone who loved Lincoln and Sara enough to beg, heckle, and demand that I write more about them. I also have to thank Kristy Louise at Book Addict Mumma for asking for a Christmas excerpt about Lincoln and Sara. That Christmas excerpt turned into this.
     
     
    1
     
     
    “There’s something wrong with Sara.” Admitting it out loud made it real, and that in turn made Lincoln feel sick. He rubbed his face and dropped his hands, looking bleary-eyed at his friend.
    Spencer Johnson raised a lone dark eyebrow at him, taking a swig from the bottle of Busch Light waiting on the bar counter. “Wrong as in?”
    “I don’t know.” The frustration was evident in the harshness of his tone, and Lincoln lowered his voice and repeated in a calmer tone, “I don’t know. She’s acting funny.”
    The bartender, a blonde with enough cleavage to make thirty men happy—just not Lincoln—stopped before them. “Need a refill, boys?”
    His eyes swept over the woodsy, rustic interior of Double K’s, not even glancing at the well-endowed woman. Instead he saw Sara’s drawn face in his mind as she slammed the bathroom door on his question of her well-being that morning. A profound sense of helplessness washed over him.
    Christmas music played from a jukebox, annoying him. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet. Why was everyone in such a hurry to get to Christmas? He was aware his bad mood was a product of his ineptitude to get Sara to open up to him, but knowing that didn’t make the sour disposition go away.
    In the darkest recesses of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder: Was she thinking of Cole and missing him, maybe even regretting that he was not there and Lincoln was instead? He hated thinking that way; he hated the weakness inside him that couldn't take that insecurity away. Three years had gone by since Cole's passing, not that time really did anything to alleviate the loss; it just made it more bearable. 
    He knew she missed him; he missed him. But what if something had changed with her, with her feelings for Lincoln? He didn’t want to think that—the thought made everything inside him tighten up and a sick feeling churn through him—but why else would she be acting so strange? He couldn’t think of alternatives. Those were even more terrifying than what he was already thinking.
    Lincoln could deal with Sara no longer loving him like she used to. He would hate it and he would hurt every day because of it, but he could deal with it. The thought of her being sick or something far, far worse than that—he couldn't deal with that.
    Spencer nudged him and he looked up. “You want a refill or what?”
    Lincoln shook his head, causing his bangs to cover his eyes. “No. I need to get home.”
    He stood up and shrugged his gray Carhartt jacket on. Winters usually didn’t affect him that much—he’d wear hoodies for the majority of the season, foregoing a heavier jacket, but lately—and he thought his current mind frame had something to do with it—he was