But I know Lincoln, and while he may have told Rhett we were together, I honestly don’t believe he’d tell him about the pregnancy without talking to me first.
Rhett nods and takes another bite.
“And you didn’t kill him?”
Swallowing, Rhett frowns. “Why would I kill him? He’s a great guy, and you’re a big girl.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Are you feeling okay?” I put the back of my hand to his forehead.
He must be running a fever. There’s no other explanation for him not going apeshit over finding out I’ve been sleeping with his best friend.
Rhett slaps my hand away. “You’re a big girl, Adley. Lincoln is loyal, stable, and an all-around good guy. He’s not a player. He won’t cheat on you. You chose well.”
I blink and then blink again.
“I’m proud of you for making him work for your forgiveness, though,” he says, nudging my arm. “He fucked up. But we’re guys; we do that shit. Just don’t stay angry at him for too long. I’d hate to see you miss out on the kind of love I’ve found with Mo.”
“I’m not angry,” I say, trying to figure out what it is I’m feeling.
Uncertainty, yes. Fear, absolutely. But not anger.
Snagging another sandwich, Rhett hops off the bed of the truck. “Maybe you should tell him that. He’s in the barn.”
“Hey.”
Lincoln whips around at the sound of my voice. The black shirt he had on moments ago is nowhere to be found. Sweat drips down his chest and disappears in the rivulets of his abdomen. It’s only been a little over two weeks since I’ve seen him naked, but somehow, he looks more ripped and lean than I remember.
And happy. He looks happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.
That can’t be a good sign, since I feel miserable right now. Maybe he just really enjoys working on the ranch?
>
“Adley?”
I blink and look up into his smiling eyes. “H-hey.” I clear my throat and try again. “Hey. I brought food,” I say, holding up the bag.
Using his forearm, Lincoln wipes the sweat from his face and walks toward me. “Thanks.”
He takes the bag, walks back to where he was working, and sits down on a straw bale. Without saying another word, he unwraps his first sandwich and takes a hearty bite.
There’s a jug of water that Mom keeps full, so I know he has plenty to drink.
I watch Lincoln chew his food, and when he goes to take another bite, he pauses and lifts a brow. “Did you eat lunch?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
He grabs the second sandwich from the bag and offers it to me. “Here, have this one.”
“You’d give me your sandwich?”
“I’d give you anything.”
The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, and I want so badly to tell him I believe him, that I’ve always believed in his love for me, that I was just scared, and I overreacted. But I want to make sure nothing’s changed with him since he’s had this time to think. I have to think of the baby as well.
So there are a few things we need to talk about first.
“You eat it. I can grab a sandwich when I go back inside.”