have to finish this room. You can sleep on the couch. Or I can move Davy back into
Adam"s—”
“No.” He eased off the bed, cradling his left arm in his other hand. She dropped
the brush and moved to help him up, but he shrugged her off. He could get off a
goddamn bed. “I"m not letting you down again.”
She stared at him, her forehead scrunched up, her mouth hanging open. “You
have never let me down.” She pulled him into an embrace, her arms tight around
his neck. “Never. Even when you were gone. You are the one person I can count on
to love me. And that means everything to me.”
He squashed the tears before they formed. He would not feel sorry for himself
any longer. He had a lot to be grateful for—more than some men. He was going to
live up to it. Live up to the Iroquois legend of an uncle Jay had told him about. Be
the father figure Nancy"s kids deserved.
She let go of him. “Do you think there"ll be more trouble?”
“Not sure. I"m not seeing Jay anymore. Maybe that"ll help.” He didn"t want to
tell her about the note in his pocket, didn"t want her to know that despite the police
getting involved, despite being shot and the two surgeries on his arm, despite losing
Jay, whoever wanted him to pay wasn"t done with Lincoln yet.
“All right,” she said. “I"m going to check on the kids and go to bed. You"ll be
okay?”
“Yeah.” He sank to the bed again.
She didn"t move to leave. “You were happy? For a while?”
“I was.” He couldn"t stop the smile. “He changed me.”
“I know. Maybe—”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It"s over.”
“I believe you said that once before.”
“It"s different this time.”
“Really?” She kept staring at him.
“What?”
“You"re an idiot.” She put her hands on her hips. That stance more than any
other made her look like their mom, like the time he"d gotten in trouble for stealing
a pack of smokes.
Never take what isn’t yours
, his mom had told him. He should"ve
remembered that when he met Jay.
Nancy also looked angrier than their mom had. “If you"re lucky enough to find
someone who loves you, someone who"ll stand by you and care for you, then you
should be on your knees thanking God or the universe or the damn tooth fairy.
You"ve found that twice, Lincoln McCaw. That"s twice more than a lot of people get.”
Breathe
199
What could he say? She deserved better than the men she"d believed had loved
her.
“When I picked you up at the bus station, I saw it. You were lost. If you let him
walk away, then you are choosing to stay lost.”
Then he"d have to be lost. A relationship with Jay Miller would be his second
biggest mistake. The worst risk of his life.
Nancy ran a hand over his cheek and left the room. He pulled the typed note
from his pocket.
Meet me at the cemetery. You know the one. 4:00 a.m.
It had to be over with Jay. Because tonight Lincoln planned on making sure
his shooter was finished sending threats or stealing medicine. Finished hurting
anyone.
And Jay would lose another person he cared about.
200
Sloan Parker
Chapter Twenty-nine
Lincoln sucked in a sharp breath. The swirl of a tongue over the crown of his
dick had him moaning and writhing.
Remarkably, Jay was getting even better at giving head. He worked his heated
mouth down Lincoln’s shaft, pulling slowly, massaging the length with lips and
tongue. Then he pulled away; the heat of his body disappeared.
Lincoln lifted his head. “Jay?”
A sliver of light from the garage below streamed across the bed, but the rest of
the room was too dark to see where Jay had gone. Lincoln reached out, and the heat
of Jay’s body pressed in close again as he slid alongside Lincoln.
Only it wasn’t Jay.
The body was smaller, the flesh more silky, the legs more feminine against
Lincoln’s. A small hand glided over his abdomen, pausing briefly at the new scar
tissue where the glass of the picture frame had punctured him. The mysterious
woman ran her hand higher, spreading feathery touches all over him, drawing out
goose bumps across his chest. She touched his left arm, running her fingers over the
scar and the ruined tattoo.
“Wake up, Lincoln.”
That voice. Definitely a woman’s.
She caressed his chest again, plucking his nipples. Lincoln couldn’t recall ever
having an erotic dream about a woman. Not even when he was teenager and just
about anything got him off. He arched into her touch, wanting more, and for once in
his life, not knowing how the hell to ask or what to do about it.
He couldn’t see her face, but the tips of her red hair were visible in the low light
as the strands swept across his chest, tickling him as she made her way up his body.
“Linc, wake up.” Her voice was insistent in his ear as her fingers twisted his
nipple harder, pulling his flesh past arousal into pain. “They need you. Wake! Up!”
Lincoln shot straight up, his eyes wide, his breath pouring out in heavy pants.
The room was dark and he was alone, lying on the mattress in his room over the
garage, wearing jeans and nothing else, the sleeping bag draped over his lower half.
What time was it? He couldn"t have slept long. He had set his alarm for 3:00
a.m. Plenty of time for him to walk to the cemetery.
Breathe
201
His body was warm despite the chill of the air. The erotic dream disturbed
him. He had always known he was gay. He never went through moments of doubt.
Never dated women. Never wanted one before.
He touched his chest, his nipples sensitive, his body aching in a delicious way.
He moved his hand lower and froze when the sweet scent of flowers reached him.
Just as quickly, the stench of smoke replaced it.
Smoke.
He scrambled out of the bed. His feet caught in the bottom of the sleeping bag,
and he plunged forward. He flung his hands out to stop his face from smacking into
the floor, only to realize too late his left arm shouldn"t take part in such activity.
Pain raced up the appendage. He rolled onto his back and cradled his arm.
Screw the pain. He had to get moving. He kicked off the sleeping bag, shot to his
feet, and grabbed a shirt from the top of his bag. The shirt barely on, he sprinted
down the stairs, skipping every other one, his side slamming into the wall as he lost
his balance on the last step. The garage was clear of smoke, but the scent was
stronger. The handle on the door leading to the house was warm, but it didn"t slow
him. He burst into the kitchen.
“Nancy!”
Flames worked up the wall toward the ceiling over the refrigerator. He ran
through the kitchen and shouted again for Nancy and the kids.
Down the hall, he found Adam pulling Sparky by the collar. Lincoln pointed
toward the front door. “Get outside. Now!”
“Lincoln.” Nancy was at the end of the hall pushing Davy toward him.
“Get out of the house.”
“Jessica!” she screamed.
Lincoln charged into Jessica"s room. “I"ve got her. Go!”
Jessica sat on her bed, fully awake, her eyes as big as the round black orbs on
Mr. Wuzzie"s face, the stuffed animal clutched in her hand, the kitten on her lap.
Lincoln went to her. She kicked off the blankets, gripped the kitten behind the
neck like a mother cat carrying her young, and held out her arms. He scooped her
up, wincing and shifting her to his right side when her weight hit his healing
wounds. She wheezed and clutched at his shoulder as he hurried toward the front
door.
Her soft voice whispered in his ear. “I dropped Mr. Wuzzie.”
“We can"t go back.”
The fire had spread throughout the kitchen but hadn"t blocked the front door
yet. The plume of smoke wasn"t going to do anything for Jessica"s airway. Why
hadn"t he climbed out her damn window?
Nancy and the boys waited just outside the door and followed him away from
the house. He knelt on one knee and laid Jessica across his other leg. Her eyes were
closed, and the kitten slipped from her slack grip. She didn"t notice.
202
Sloan Parker
He bent his head to her chest and mouth. The breath was soft, but there.
“Baby?” Nancy fell to her knees on the ground beside them.
“She"s breathing. Did you call?”
Nancy didn"t say anything.
“Nance! Did you call for help?”
“I did,” Adam said. He held his phone in one hand, the kitten in the other.
Damn good teenager, attached to his cell at all times. “They"re sending the fire
department. And an ambulance.”
Lincoln held Jessica and watched her chest rise and fall as they waited. Sirens
rang out in the distance. Still a couple of streets over. He stood and carried Jessica
to the curb. Her eyes fluttered open, and she coughed, a tiny sound, but it opened a
floodgate. She wiggled in his arms, trying to sit up.
He knelt again and helped her up. “Inhaler?”
Nancy was on Jessica"s other side. “In the house. Wait—there"s one in my car.”
“I"ll get it.” Adam ran off.
“The glove compartment,” Nancy called after him. “And stay back from the
house.”
Jessica wiggled more. “I can breathe.” Another small cough followed. “Kitty?”
Adam handed over the inhaler. “I"ve got the cat.”
“Take this,” Lincoln said and raised the inhaler to her mouth.
She huffed on it twice, and when she was done, she looked at him with her
large brown eyes, then at her mom. “I"m okay.” Air slammed into Lincoln"s lungs
with her smile.
“The garage,” Davy said. “It"s on fire now too.”
“Here, take her.” Lincoln handed Jessica to Nancy and sprinted for the garage.
“Lincoln!” Nancy shouted after him.
Fuck if he was losing everything. The bike was all he"d have left to remember
Jay.
Flames climbed the exterior wall of the garage nearest the house. He placed an
open palm on the side door. Warm, but not too bad. He gave the knob a twist and
pushed in. Heat and smoke rushed toward him.
* * *
room, creating an eerie light show.
If only he could sleep. But sleep brought the dreams. And waiting in those
dreams was Lincoln, the second person Jay could never have again. He"d been so
close to that magic—that blend of physical attraction and emotional connection few
were lucky to find. To lose it again sucked more than the first time.
Breathe
203
The dance of lights across the ceiling changed from white to yellow to orange.
Jay raised his head. The blaze of a house fire filled the TV screen. Amid the smoke
and flames, the red trucks and television crews, the firefighters and reporters, was
a house with a one-car attached garage. Nancy"s house.
Jay leaped for the coffee table and fumbled until his hand met the remote. He
turned up the volume.
“
These shots were taken not long ago as firefighters battled this Edgefield house
fire. Officials have not made a statement on any injuries or fatalities, but we’ve
learned there were several young children inside the home at the time of the fire. An
ambulance was on the scene and left with at least one occupant of the house. As you
can see behind me now the fire is out, leaving behind what looks to be a completely
destroyed home
.”
The news returned to the anchorwoman at a desk signing off for the late-night
news broadcast. Jay checked the time on his watch. 3:00 a.m. Not a live broadcast.
The second airing of the late news. He threw the remote on the couch and sprinted
for his Jeep, trying not to think about the conclusions he was drawing. About who
had written the threats. Who had stolen Jessica"s inhalers. Who had shot Lincoln.
Who had taken a photo of Katie in the hospital morgue, had seen her, and could
describe exactly how she had looked that night.
He"d deal with what that meant later. He had to know if Lincoln and his
family were safe. And if they were, he had to make certain they stayed that way.
He knew now this was never going to end, not until Lincoln suffered more.
Maybe not until Lincoln McCaw was dead and buried.
Wasn"t that what she had said?
Someone should kill him.
* * *
“Leave that on.” Lincoln lifted the mask and settled it into place. He was
sitting in a chair beside her gurney in the emergency room.
She furrowed her brow. The look almost had him laughing. Almost.
Nancy returned from where she"d been talking with a doctor outside the exam
room. She held Jessica"s hand and said, “Just a bit longer, hon.”