Breathe (11 page)

with an opened white envelope. “It came for him last week.” He slid the envelope

across the table. “There was no return address, so I opened it. I thought it might be

important.”

Jay nodded and picked up the envelope.

“It"s some kind of hate mail. I guess about the accident.”

Hate mail
? “What?”

“It doesn"t say who it"s from. Maybe the guy whose wife died wants Lincoln to

feel bad. I don"t know. I tried to contact Lincoln, but he won"t return my calls. He

should know about this, though.”

“I can…” Jay stared at the envelope in his hands. Who had sent it? And what

did it say? “I can give it to him.”

“Thanks.”

Jay stood. He made it four steps toward the kitchen doorway then stopped, his

back to Paul. “How long were you and Lincoln together?”

Paul didn"t respond.

He should let it go. Keep walking. What did it matter anyway? But the silence

disturbed Jay. He turned around.

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Sloan Parker

Paul was staring sideways into the empty kitchen. When he finally looked at

Jay, he said, “Seven years.”

Longer than he and Katie, even counting the high school years between going

steady and their first official date. “I"m sorry.”

Paul got up from the table and walked to stand before a window across the

room. “It wasn"t his fault. It"s just how it had to be for him. Looking back, I don"t

think we could"ve avoided it—other than the accident not having happened. Not

that anyone can change that now. He needs to let go of the guilt. He needs to forgive

himself.”

Blame. It surrounded Jay. Every day for a year. And here was a man who

placed none of it on McCaw.

What did it mean to be at fault? Was being sorry for your actions enough? It

couldn"t erase the pain, the despair, but what could be gained by hating a stranger?

Jay wasn"t happy with the answers he was coming up with.

He thanked Paul, left the house, and climbed into his Jeep. Despite the

budding need to give them all closure, he wasn"t ready to let go. Not yet. The anger

couldn"t dissipate before he had another chance to look into the face of the man

who"d taken his life from him.

If he let go before then, he might not be able to walk away from the first

person who"d held him in a year.

And that would be bad. For everyone.

Breathe

53

Chapter Nine

The dead don’t cry at night. But I do. And someday you will too.

The words sent a chill down Jay"s spine. He started his Jeep and cranked up

the heat. He had debated for several minutes on whether or not to look inside the

envelope addressed to Lincoln McCaw, but the local postmark, the typed front, and

Paul"s words piqued his interest. If it was about the accident, had someone he knew

sent it? He pulled out the lone piece of paper while he still sat parked at the curb in

front of Lincoln"s old home.

Where he still sat ten minutes later.

Both the note and envelope were printed, nothing handwritten. The envelope

was plain white, the kind with privacy tinting to keep nosy neighbors and postal

workers from stealing your credit card number or bank account information. Or

from reading your creepy threats to an ex-race car driver.

The piece of paper was cream colored and thick, like something used for formal

announcements or letters. It didn"t match the stark white envelope. Jay held the

paper over his steering wheel under the dim streetlights. There was a watermark. A

circle with lettering around the outer edge. He couldn"t make them out in the dim

light. Four images or initials even harder to see occupied the center of the circle.

Maybe in brighter light he"d have better luck. He folded the note and slipped it into

his jacket pocket.

Who could"ve sent it to McCaw? Someone who wanted to scare the man.

Someone who didn"t want him to get comfortable in his life. Someone who wanted

him to pay.

Who cared enough about the accident to want to torment and threaten Lincoln

McCaw?

Everyone in Jay"s life.

Jay shifted the Jeep into drive and pulled away from the curb. He"d try Nancy

Connell"s place first. If Lincoln wasn"t there, he"d hit Sonny"s again. He had to find

out if there"d been other notes. And if so, he had to know if they were empty threats

or if someone he knew was planning to make good on them.

He wasn"t about to let anyone he cared for get into trouble. Not over an

accident.

* * *

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Sloan Parker

Lincoln almost laughed at that. Instead, he nodded and said, “Keep "em

coming.” He lit a smoke and took a long drag. He needed to quit. His lungs were

already protesting. The laundry alone was killing him. Every time he went back to

Nancy"s, he had to change. He couldn"t risk the lingering smoke around Jessica. He

tipped his head back and swallowed the new beer until it was half gone.

Sonny"s Tavern was the kind of place he could sit and drink and forget the

day—forget about hospital bills and sick kids, forget about the cost of prescriptions.

And the cost of mistakes.

Perched on the same bar stool as the week before, he downed another beer as

he waited. He wasn"t waiting for the kid, though. Was he? He wanted to be alone.

Then why had he convinced himself to return to the bar? Because he wanted

the kid again. He couldn"t hide from that.

After Lincoln ordered his third beer, and after eight other people had walked

through the front door, Jay entered Sonny"s. Lincoln"s breath caught in his chest.

The reaction was more the lack of sex than anticipation over this particular guy,

wasn"t it? He turned back to his beer.

A moment later, Jay sat on the stool next to him.

Lincoln gave a curt nod. “Jay.”

Their gazes met, and Lincoln held the stare longer than should"ve been natural

for two men who barely knew each other, two men sitting in the middle of a straight

bar like Sonny"s.

Jay"s gaze darted around the room as if he"d just realized what he was doing,

and it disgusted him.

Closeted. Lincoln understood. But did he want to deal with a kid just figuring

out he was gay? A guy who looked like he battled an inner war—like he wanted to

hate Lincoln at the same time as wanting to fuck him?

Jay reached in front of him and grabbed Lincoln"s pack of Marlboros. Lincoln"s

heartbeat pounded as Jay pulled out a cigarette using only his lips and tossed the

pack onto the bar.

Had his heart been beating before? Or had it been lying in wait?

Jay wrapped two fingers around the cigarette and let it slip from between his

lips. “Got your lighter?”

Those lips needed a warning label. They let a man forget where he was.

Lincoln stood and whispered, “Come and get it.” He strolled to the back of the bar

and into the bathroom.

He shouldn’t do this
. Not in Sonny"s. Not with a kid who was too young to be

okay with gay life in Edgefield, too young to have learned what sucked about life.

Lincoln didn"t need the complication.

It wasn"t stopping him, though. He checked the stalls and found he was alone.

Hopefully not for long. He waited in the last one.

Breathe

55

His dick was already hard. He wasn"t going to last. He faced the far wall and

laid his hands flat against it, trying to ease his breathing. He needed to calm down.

He"d made a fool of himself in the back parking lot. This time he hoped for more

than the kid"s hands. Maybe they could get off and then head somewhere else to

really have fun.

The outer door opened a minute later. Jay slipped into the stall and without

delay pressed his groin to Lincoln"s ass, and ran his hands up the front of Lincoln"s

thighs.

Lincoln clutched the top of the stall. He hadn"t been fucked in a damn long

time. Paul preferred to bottom, but he"d fuck Lincoln once in a while. The last time

had been a few weeks before the accident.

It wasn"t the long wait, though, that was driving Lincoln crazy. No. It was the

kid.

But they couldn"t fuck in Sonny"s. He just hoped for a quick grope, another one

of the kid"s kisses, and then he"d suggest they get out of the bar. But the pressure

against his ass had him ready to go off, rather than calming him down.

Jay worked his hands over Lincoln"s dick. “Found what I wanted.”

“Jesus, kid. You talk too damn much. Gonna have me coming again before I

get to kiss you.”

“I doubt it"s my words that have you ready.” Jay squeezed his cock and glided a

hand down, then back up, not missing one inch of Lincoln"s dick through the jeans.

“You sure you"ve never done this before?”

Jay gripped Lincoln"s arm and swung him around. Lincoln barely had time for

a breath before Jay"s mouth met his. The recent fantasies hadn"t been wrong. The

kid could kiss. Lincoln wanted more. A lot more.

Maybe Jay didn"t. He froze, and then took a step back.

“Something wrong?”

“Hate this song. It was… She liked…”

Not now. Lincoln didn"t need the kid shutting down. “If you can hear the

music, I must be doing something wrong.” He licked Jay"s earlobe and proceeded

lower, sliding his lips along the man"s neck, taking in the faint scent of soap and

cologne. Jay hadn"t smelled like this before. Had the man spruced up to see him?

Jay jerked away and moved as far from Lincoln as he could get in the

bathroom stall. “I can"t do this.”

What the hell
? Lincoln let go of him and tried to calm his heavy breaths.

“I thought maybe I could take what I wanted. Use you. Forget who you are

long enough to—”

“Who I am?”

Jay bit his bottom lip, then released it and inhaled an uneven breath. “My

name"s Jacob Miller.”

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Sloan Parker

No.

Lincoln shook his head.
No fucking way.

He fumbled with the lock on the door. Jay interrupted his attempts and

released the latch. Lincoln shoved the door open. It slammed against the wall with a

thud
that echoed in the small bathroom. He faced the row of sinks and the large

mirror but couldn"t look at himself, or the man behind him. “She was your wife?”

Jay didn"t say anything. Lincoln met the man"s stare in the mirror, and Jay

nodded. The smudged mirror distorted his face to where he looked more like a

mirage than a flesh-and-blood man.

“Jesus Christ.” Lincoln ran a hand through his hair. His biceps jumped with

the movement. The wolf and eagle feather tattoo danced in the mirror"s reflection.

“You knew who I was last time? When I told you my name?”

Jay nodded again. Maybe he"d said all he could.

“And you still came back here and hit on me? Let us get this fucking far?”

Lincoln pointed at the stall they"d just vacated. How the hell could Jay have touched

him again?

When Jay answered, he didn"t look at Lincoln. “I wanted you. I won"t lie about

that. But now—”

Movement sounded outside the bathroom door, drawing Lincoln"s attention.

After a minute of silence and no one had entered, Jay said, “I can"t.” His voice

was low, his gaze on Lincoln"s in the mirror again.

“No shit, you can"t.” Lincoln clutched the edges of the sink in both hands,

keeping his back to Jay.

“I wanted to talk to you, wanted you to know she—” Jay stopped and stared at

the ceiling.

Wanted to know she what
? What couldn"t he say?

When Jay finally lowered his head, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a

piece of paper and an envelope. “Do you know who sent you this?”

Lincoln twisted around and snatched the familiar paper. He read the note, his

stomach pitching with the threat. “Where"d you get this?”

“Paul.”

Paul
? His Paul? Well no, not his any longer. “When"d you talk to him?”

“Today.”

“What the hell for?”

“I was trying to find you.”

Lincoln held up the note. “He gave this to you?”

“He thought we were friends.”

Friends
? Lincoln laughed with a snort. “How"d you pull that off?”

“Are there more?” Jay asked.

Breathe

57

Lincoln forced a swallow down his dry throat. “Yes.”

“Do you know who sent them?"

“Thought I did. But since I blew him last week, I"m a little confused.”

Jay ripped the note out of Lincoln"s hand. “I did not send this to you.”

Why was the kid pissed? Who wouldn"t have assumed it was him? “I should

take your word on that?”

“I have nothing else to give you. Did you show them to anyone? Tell the

police?”

“No.”

“I have to find out who they"re from.”

“
You
have to?” Why? To thank them? No. Jay didn"t seem like the kind of man

who"d want to torment anyone. Not even the person who"d destroyed his future.

Although Lincoln had no idea how he"d come to that conclusion.