Breathe (2 page)

“Well, now you can. Soon as I get a new job.” He"d take care of her like he

should"ve been doing for the past six months. If he had been there, Mel wouldn"t

have had a chance to hurt her again. “Is he gone for good?”

She didn"t answer.

“Why not?”

“He left some of his stuff.”

“You let me know the minute he shows up.” He"d remind the asshole that

family looks after their own. “The kids okay? Did he—”

“No!” Her tone was defensive, and she threw him an angry look before she

focused on the deserted street ahead. He shouldn"t have asked. She wouldn"t let

anyone hurt her kids.

When she spoke again, her voice was under control, more conversational.

“Could you stay with Davy and Jessica tomorrow after school? Adam has basketball

practice.” Softer she added, “They"ve been home alone a lot lately.”

4

Sloan Parker

He stared out the window into the darkness and said, “I"ll be there.”

A block from Nancy"s, they pulled up to a stop sign next to the Late Night

Paradise Plaza—home to the only all-night gas station and carryout in town, a

movie rental shop, and Sonny"s Tavern.

Lincoln sat taller. “Can we make a stop? I need smokes.”

“Lincoln…”

“I"ll quit again. Just need a pack to get me through the transition.”

She sighed and turned into the plaza"s drive.

The neon signs advertising an ATM machine, lottery tickets, and beer had him

shielding his eyes with the back of his hand. There were no neon lights in jail.

Sounded like the title of a country music song. Something his fans would have

blasted from their car stereos as they drove in on race night. He reached for the

truck"s door handle, but her voice stopped him.

“No smoking around the kids, okay?”

He opened the door and said, “You know I won"t.”

“Or in the house,” Nancy called through the side window as he strode for the

store.

Lincoln waved an okay sign her way and opened the door to the carryout. A

young man passed by the front of the store, hands shoved inside his pockets, head

down as if he had to watch his every step. Lincoln froze in the doorway.

Great-looking guy. Nice body.

The kid headed for Sonny"s Tavern.

Great ass too.

Fuck
. Lincoln had been away too long. Not a good idea—gawking at straight

guys on the streets of Edgefield. But…the kid had stopped, hand on Sonny"s front

door, replicating Lincoln"s frozen stance. He was staring at Lincoln, his mouth

parted, his eyes conveying a hunger Lincoln knew all too well.

The door to Sonny"s burst outward, almost smacking the kid in the forehead,

and two guys exited. The kid moved out of their way, then slipped inside, his gaze

on his feet again.

Lincoln"s body screamed at him to follow. He ignored it and entered the

carryout.

What was that look? Something?

It didn"t matter.

He passed by the front counter with the smokes and found what he"d really

wanted—a bottle of Jack Daniel"s. He grabbed two for good measure.

* * *

The front door of Sonny"s Tavern flew open, and cold winter air blasted in.

Breathe

5

Another man might have chosen a stool farther from the entrance. Not Jay

Miller. The cold didn"t bother him. Why would it? He was already numb.

“They let the bastard out today.” His dad"s voice cut through the haze of

alcohol. “Six months and now he"s…” He trailed off.

Jay dropped the beer he"d been nursing for the last fifteen minutes onto the

bar. The bottle clanked and rocked, foam building, drops of the precious liquid

spilling. He didn"t bother rescuing it. He"d just order another as soon as his dad left,

like he planned to do for the next couple of hours.

“Your mother"s still going on about frying his ass, and he gets out the day

before…” His dad cut off midsentence again. Maybe he always did that. Usually

Jay"s mom was there to continue on.

“Today?” Jay asked.

The look his dad gave him was comical—if anything could make him laugh

again—as if his dad thought he was mentally deficient in some way. Maybe he was.

How much did you have to drink before the brain cells died off?

“He"s probably already back in town.”

In Edgefield
? How long until Jay found himself face-to-face with the man? He

nodded. That was all he could manage. Six months in jail and the man who killed

his wife was getting his life back. He"d be working and living and loving. And Katie

was turning to dust in the ground. Jay would never have his life back. He"d never

have anything.

The door swung open again, and a pair of giggles floated in with whoever

entered the bar. What the hell were they so happy about?

He had to get out of there. Get away. Escape all of it.

“Why don"t you come stay at our place tonight?” his dad said. “You can sleep in

your old room. Then we"ll all visit the cemetery tomorrow.”

The restroom. Maybe if he didn"t come out right away his dad would get a clue.

Jay stood, and the weight of his body proved too much for his unsure legs. He

sank onto the bar stool. The beers—which he drank fast and barely tasted—had hit

him hard, but news of Lincoln McCaw"s fate had finished the job. It was over.

Except it wasn"t. It never would be.

His dad put a hand on his back. “Hey, Sonny, get us a cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” the bartender said. When he returned with the coffee mug, he added,

“He"s had a few.”

“I imagine so.” Jay"s dad pushed the coffee closer.

The smell of it churned Jay"s stomach. Nothing smelled good anymore.

Nothing tasted good either. What had he last eaten? And when? Probably why the

beer wasn"t settling too good.

His dad was talking again. Didn"t he get it? The last thing in the world Jay

wanted to do was give up the beer and face that McCaw was done with his

punishment.

6

Sloan Parker

“You should come tomorrow,” his dad said. “It might give you closure.”

Closure? There wasn"t enough beer for that.

There was one thing that would give Jay closure. Finally confronting McCaw,

looking the man in the eyes, making him understand how much he took from the

world, making Lincoln McCaw suffer.

That"d be closure.

Breathe

7

Chapter Two

The house was dark when they pulled into Nancy"s driveway, and Lincoln said,

“Guess I missed the kids.”
Damn
. Hearing their voices on the phone hadn"t been the

same.

“I told them to go on to bed. They"ll see you tomorrow.” She cut the engine, and

they walked to the house in silence.

Nancy opened the front door, and Sparky barreled into them. The large black

mutt didn"t bark, but he rammed his paws into Lincoln"s abdomen in greeting.

“He gain more weight?”

“I think the kids have been feeding him junk food while I"m at work.” She

smiled, but her eyes didn"t join in on the expression. A working mom with two jobs

meant a lot of nights home alone for her kids.

Lincoln patted Sparky"s head and sighed as the dog ran off down the hall. He

stepped to the couch in the living room. Same couch he"d slept on during the long

months between the accident and the start of his time at the Grant County Justice

Center. The secondhand piece of furniture had been uncomfortable back then. After

months on what could only be described as a metal slab with a mattress the

thickness of a blanket, the couch was a welcome sight. The exhaustion of the long

day slammed into him. Waiting for your freedom took a lot out of a man. They had

released him late in the day, and by the time he"d signed his paperwork and made it

to the bus stop, he had to wait for the last bus, which worked out since Nancy had

been on the late shift.

He dropped his duffel bag and the paper sack with the smokes and whiskey

onto the couch.

Nancy shook her head from where she had stopped at the hall doorway that

led to the bedrooms. “I"ve got you set up in Davy"s room.”

“I was fine on the couch.”

“That was only for a couple of months. I was hoping… I thought you said you"d

stay with us.”

He picked up his bags. “I will.” He followed her and said, “Just don"t want to

put anyone out.”

“Davy"s fine with his brother.” She opened the last door on the left, and Lincoln

entered the small bedroom. A child"s room. A twin bed. A kid"s desk he"d never be

able to fit his knees under. A dresser that had machine screws sticking out where

the knobs should have been. Action figures and half-constructed LEGO sets piled

8

Sloan Parker

beside the desk as if someone had swept the treasures there with a broom to clear a

path to the bed. A green beanbag chair in the corner surrounded by toy cars, fire

trucks, and army tanks, each vehicle neatly lined to form an arch around the giant

cloth ball, pointed outward as if to protect the chair from unwanted visitors. Lincoln

smirked. He"d never sit in the chair. It"d be hell getting up. But it did seem like a

comfy place to get drunk and pass out.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over the back of the desk chair. The

chair teetered, rocking in indecision if it could hold the weight of the leather jacket.

For the first time since Lincoln left the jailhouse, the cool air reached him, and

he shivered. “Is the heat on?”

Nancy stood in the doorway. “The thermostat isn"t right. I keep having to turn

it up to eighty-five to get any heat.”

“I"ll look at it tomorrow.” He"d also look at the sliding door on the laundry

closet they"d passed in the hall. It was off the track, the plastic hinge snapped in

two.

“Thanks.” She stayed at the door as if she shouldn"t step inside the room.

Which was bullshit. This was her house, not his. He"d left his house the day he was

arrested and hadn"t stepped so much as one foot inside since.

It hit him then. How different his life was going to be now. He"d never sit in his

recliner again. Never watch his big-screen TV. Never drive another race. Never

make love in his bed.

There were a lot of things he"d never do.

He was staying in an eight-by-eight-foot room he"d commandeered from his

ten-year-old nephew. He sat on the edge of the bed and laughed when he pulled

back the blankets and found sheets and a pillowcase covered in metal robots from

the movie
Transformers.

Nancy didn"t laugh with him. Probably had more to do with what she tugged

out of her pocket than her lack of humor over the bedcovers. She unfolded the

papers and stared at them for a moment before she handed them to him. “The

insurance I mentioned.”

He snorted as he looked it over. “Ain"t cheap.”

“It was the only one that—”

“Would take on a man who killed someone?”

“Don"t say that.” She brushed aside the dark bangs that were stuck to her

forehead. “They said they"d insure you for any vehicle except your race—”

Lincoln held up a hand. “Yeah. I get it.”

“If you want to sign, I"ll fax them at work. They said the coverage can start

tomorrow.”

He took the pen from Nancy and signed the contract. “Am I going somewhere?”

“I talked to Mitch like you asked.”

He handed the papers to her. “And?”

Breathe

9

“He said to come by tomorrow after lunch. You can"t so much as drive a

forklift, but they"ve got some manual work in the warehouse. He might be able to

get you on the payroll in the next week or two.”

“Thanks.”

“Will you make good money there?”

“Mitch does okay.” Lincoln tried to meet her gaze, but she wouldn"t look at

him. “Nancy, are you in trouble?”

“I"m behind on the utilities.” She swiped at the stubborn pieces of hair again.

“They"re threatening to shut off the phone. And the electric.”

“It"s the middle of fucking winter. And you"ve got kids living here. Did you tell

them that?”

She shrugged as if it wasn"t bothering her. Right. He
had
to land the job with

Mitch.

He stood and went to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She

dropped her head to his chest. If he had been home, he would"ve seen how much

trouble she was in. He would"ve been able to stop his asshole brother-in-law from

laying another hand on her.

“I"ll help out,” he said. “Don"t worry about it.”

“I"m glad you"re home. And it"s not the money.” She breathed deep, then spoke

softer. “I missed you. I"m glad you"re staying.”

He tickled her sides. “You won"t kick me out when I get in the way?” He"d leave

in a heartbeat if she wanted him to go. He wouldn"t be a burden on her.

She giggled and pulled away from his tickling. The smile on her face brought