“What do you mean?”
“Well, he doesn’t talk about his childhood or his parents, and I’m not allowed to go to The Barn and visit him.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. When we first started seeing each other, I asked if I could go with him to work one day to see where he spends so much time and meet Roy, but he blew me off. He says it’s not a place for women or some shit.” I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. He’s your boyfriend. You deserve to know where he works and who he’s hanging out with.”
“You think?”
“Yes.” She nods and grabs the water bottle so I’ll stop picking at it. “Maybe it was just because you two were fuck buddies. Maybe he didn’t want to introduce you to everyone because he wasn’t sure how long you were going to be around.”
“But we’re not fuck buddies anymore.”
“Exactly. Which means The Barn should be fair game.” Abby looks at her watch. “You should grab dinner and take it to him.”
“I don’t know,” I say, wondering how he would feel about that.
Abby and I usually study until eight or nine o’clock, and it’s only seven. Lincoln told me he was going to stay at The Barn late since I wouldn’t be home. If I know him, he hasn’t eaten.
She tucks her books into her bag, and I do the same. “Your call. We still on for tomorrow?”
“I’ll be here. Same place, same time.”
Abby swings her bag over her shoulder, and I follow her out. She stops before she gets to her car.
“I’ve never been in a relationship, so I can’t pretend to know how they work or what you should do, but I do know that communication is key. If he’s holding back and it’s bothering you, you should talk to him. He can’t fix it if he doesn’t know it’s broken.”
“What if he knows it’s broken but keeps ignoring it because he doesn’t want to put the time into it?”
Abby shrugs. “I guess that’s a possibility. But there’s only one way to find out.”
I watch Abby get in her car and pull away before I pop my trunk and dump my bag in. Once I’m settled in the front seat, I pull up Lincoln’s number and hit call.
The phone rings several times before going to voicemail, and I hang up without leaving a message. Mind made up, I drive across town to a diner and pick up several different types of sandwiches, fries, onion rings, and a dozen chocolate chip cookies.
If Lincoln hasn’t eaten, I’ll bet just about anything that the other guys in the gym haven’t eaten. And Mom always says the way to a man’s heart is food. I guess we’re about to find out if that’s true.
I pull up The Barn’s address on my phone and plug it into my GPS. Traffic is a little thick through town, and what should’ve been a fifteen-minute drive ends up taking closer to thirty. I eventually have to roll my windows down because the smell of onions is overwhelming.
My stomach knots at the strong odor, but feels better by the time I make it to The Barn.
This can’t be the right place.
I glance at my GPS again, double-check the address, and look around.
When Lincoln told me The Barn was worn down, he wasn’t kidding. The paint is chipped, the sidewalk worn, and there’s nothing more than a cracked flower pot and overgrown bushes out front. There’s no sign. No house number. No lighting. If there weren’t a slew of cars in the parking lot, I?
??d swear this place was abandoned.
With a gentle tug, I pull my keys out of the ignition, stuff them in my purse, and grab the food bags. When I turn around, I run into a hard chest and gasp.
Two warm hands reach out to steady me. The sun is setting, and it’s nearly dark, but I’m able to recognize the guy as one of Lincoln’s friends I met the night he and I first hooked up. I think his name is Deacon.
“Adley, right?” he asks, eyeing up the bags of food. “I’m Deacon. We met at The Broken Boot several months ago.”
“I remember,” I say, adjusting the bags in my arms when one tries to slip free.