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Authors: Sloan Parker

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drinks, Lincoln never glancing away from the glass in his hands. Words raced

through Jay"s mind, but none of them were enough.

The silence lingered until Lincoln set his glass on the bar and cleared his

throat. “I"d give anything to bring her back to you.” He grabbed his glass and took

another long gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand but didn"t let go of

the glass. “I"d give anything for you to know how sorry I am.”

“Jesus, Linc. I know how sorry you are. You"re the most decent man I"ve ever

met. The way you care for your sister and her kids. The way you"ve cared for me. No

one helped me through my grief like you did. I think…” He bit his lower lip.

“What?”

“I think, if Katie still exists somewhere, she made sure we found each other. It

would bother her how much you were hurting. And she"d want you to have someone.

She"d want me to love someone again.”

Breathe

231

The stare Lincoln gave Jay was intense, those dark eyes unflinching. He

finally looked away and clenched his eyes shut. “There are some things in life you

can"t go back from. They"re always there with you, waiting.” He shook his head. “No

matter what has happened between us or what we"ve said, there"s no going back

from what I did. I was responsible for the death of your wife.” He faced Jay again.

“Why don"t you hate me?”

“That night behind the bar when I figured out who you were, I wanted to tell

you how much losing her hurt me. I wanted to scream at you, punch you out. I

wanted to hate you.”

“And when did that instinct change?”

“When I saw you—really saw who you were. You cared about what happened.

It destroyed you as much as it did me.”

Lincoln stared at the line of whiskey bottles on the shelf behind the bar and

clutched the glass in his hand. “I think…” He swallowed and started again. “There

are two kinds of forgiveness. The kind you can give to your loved ones who"ve

wronged you, and the kind of forgiveness you can give to people you don"t even

know—strangers—who"ve hurt you. Most people can give the first. Few know how

to give the second. It"s easier to hate a stranger.”

“You"re not a stranger to me.”

“I was when you forgave me.” Lincoln spun the glass in his hand, finally

letting go. “Seems to me if the one person who lost the most can forgive me, then

maybe I can forgive myself. At least let it go like I haven"t been able to do.”

“I"m glad, Linc.” Jay pressed his knee against Lincoln"s. The conversation he"d

feared since he"d woken up at the hospital had unfolded differently than he"d

expected. Perhaps he had never given Lincoln, or himself, enough credit. It could

have been over that first night behind the bar, or when Lincoln was shot, or when

Jay hit him, with not another word spoken between them.

“She was so beautiful,” Lincoln said. “I think about her…a lot. The day after I

met you, I went to her grave. I"d been going there since the accident, but that was

the first time I talked to her. I told her about you, but I didn"t know who you were

yet.” A smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. “I told her how much I wanted to

move past the accident, take care of Nancy and the kids, move on with someone like

you, but I didn"t want it to seem like I took what I"d done lightly. It"s strange. I

always sensed she was saying it was okay. That I could move on.”

“She"d never have held an accident against you. Not even if it had taken me

from her.”

“If that"s true then she was perfect for you.” Lincoln looked tired and a little

unsure, as if something had aged him since Jay had last seen him. What? The fire?

The shooting? Their time apart?

The old man who sat alone across the bar, sipping his whiskey, staring off at

nothing caught Jay"s eye. The man wore an old tattered jean jacket, his gray hair

long. He had a full beard, a sad and lonely expression on his weathered face. He

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Sloan Parker

clutched his drink with both hands, never letting them stray from the glass with the

exception of the time it took his right hand to raise it to his lips for a long, slow sip.

Was there anyone in the world who cared about that old man? Would anyone take

the time to plan a funeral, pick out a casket or a burial plot when he died?

Jay let his gaze hang on the old man for another moment, and then he looked

to Lincoln and said, “She"s not the only one who"s perfect for me.” He stood, leaned

in close, and said, “Give it a few minutes, then meet me out back.” He held his

breath as he stepped away from the bar and the man he was counting on to take a

chance with him.

He was betting his entire future on that one sentence.

Lincoln sucked in a long breath with Jay"s words. He watched the other man

leave. Jay didn"t falter as he made his way through the bar and out the rear

entrance. The door closed behind him, and Lincoln faced the line of whiskey bottles.

Could he really do this?

He wanted to believe he owed it to himself. The truth was, he owed it to both of

them.

He stood and followed the same path Jay had, passing by the old guy sipping

whiskey at a table near the bathrooms. Lincoln didn"t hesitate. He shoved open

Sonny"s back door and exited into the warm night air. The full moon lit the parking

lot more than the streetlamps.

Jay waited for him, leaning against the wall near where they"d first kissed,

where they"d first touched.

“Come here.” Jay tugged him in close.

Lincoln couldn"t trust himself to hold Jay. He stared at the man"s chest—

where the blood had been when he"d lifted Jay into his truck and drove him to the

hospital, where he had pressed against the blood-soaked shirt as he raced through

the streets, listening to the breaths gurgling out of Jay, feeling the tears stream

over his own cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

He kept staring at Jay"s chest; it moved up and down with each breath. He"d

spend forever watching the man breathe if he could.

Jay cupped Lincoln"s chin and forced his head up until their gazes locked. “I"ll

be okay if you say yes. I don"t want to live without you.”

“This—us—it can"t work.”

“It has to.” Jay brushed his lips over Lincoln"s ear. “I don"t want to lose you.”

The warmth of Jay"s body against his made it hard to think. Lincoln gripped

Jay"s hip in his hand. “Can you promise me every time you look at me she isn"t all

you"ll see? That you won"t see everything I took from you?”

Jay kissed along Lincoln"s cheek and chin to the corner of his mouth. “Every

time I look at you all I see is you. I can"t promise it"ll be easy, but I don"t even want

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233

to think what it"ll be like if we don"t try. She deserves to be remembered, to be

talked about. I"d like to share her with you. I know you"re strong enough to learn to

love her too. Not to hate yourself because we"re here and she"s not.”

“You give me a lot of credit.”

“You"ve earned it.” Jay wrapped his arms around Lincoln"s neck. The press of

Jay"s mouth to his melted Lincoln"s resolve to think instead of feel. He pulled Jay

closer. Their tongues met, like old lovers, tentative, slow at first, relearning each

other, remembering what was so good about being together.

Lincoln fell into the sweet oblivion of kissing Jay. His world shrank to that

parking lot, to the two of them.

Slowly Jay placed one chaste kiss after another on Lincoln"s lips before

speaking. “I was thinking…”

“You think too much.” Lincoln leaned in. He wanted more of that kiss. More of

Jay.

Jay pressed two fingers to Lincoln"s lips. “You need somewhere to live. And I

could use help fixing up my place.”

“You can"t seriously—”

“I want you to live with me. If it"s too weird to live in my house, I want us to

get our own place.”

“Jay…my sister needs me.”

“She"ll have you. She"s got the money to buy a new house. To take care of

Jessica, the boys. There"ll be more than enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I gave her my share of the settlement. I never wanted it. It was my parents

and Stuart who started it all.”

Lincoln stared at Jay, then grabbed him by the back of the neck and crushed

their mouths together. Jay Miller couldn"t possibly be for real.

How the hell had this man, practically a kid, whom Lincoln had hurt so badly,

kept from turning into an angry, jaded person? How had Jay learned to love again?

Following his lead was the least Lincoln could do. He wanted a life with Jay.

Wanted to believe they could move beyond the past and really live again.

Wanted to believe forgiveness and love were enough.

Jay held Lincoln"s face in his hands. “Come home with me, Linc.”

Lincoln rested his forehead against Jay"s temple. “You"re sure?”

“I am.” Jay lifted the sleeve of Lincoln"s T-shirt and traced his fingers over the

destroyed tattoo. “The eagle"s a symbol of courage and wisdom. Some believe if you

can embrace both, you can fly above all of the shit in your life.”

“All of it?”

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Jay nodded and rolled up his own shirtsleeve. The outline of an eagle feather

crossed his upper arm; two wolves filled the interior of the feather, running side by

side.

Lincoln ran the tips of his fingers over one wolf, then the other. “Why?”

“I wanted you to know…to see…we can both live beyond our pasts. Together.”

Whether or not he could forget what happened, Lincoln had a chance at a

future, a life he thought he"d never have. He reached for Jay, pressed his lips to the

man"s neck, and held on.

Maybe Jay was meant to be his after all.

Maybe they were meant to fall in love.

To save each other.

Loose Id Titles by Sloan Parker

Breathe

More

Sloan Parker

Sloan Parker writes romantic, erotic stories of love and passion. She likes to

create complex characters, imperfect people who are growing as individuals, living

as true to themselves as they can, and of course, falling in love.

Sloan wrote her first book, complete with hand-drawn illustrations, in the

second grade, and never looked back. She believes that in fiction—and in love—

anything is possible.

You can find out more about Sloan and her writing a
t www.sloanparker.com.

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