Breathe (3 page)

out his own. He could"ve sworn his cheeks creaked with the expression. He hadn"t

cracked a smile since the life he"d known had ended one year ago.

His last smile had been the morning of the accident, in the shower as he looked

down at Paul on his knees before him. Paul had made a lame joke, and the

mischievous look in his eyes teased Lincoln, as did the man"s tongue swirling over

the crown of his dick. He caressed Paul"s cheek with his thumb as the man set to

giving him a blowjob—the last blowjob he"d had since then.

Lincoln drove the image away.

He should get laid. Someone like the guy he"d seen outside Sonny"s.

No. Edgefield wasn"t the place to cruise for a simple fuck or blowjob. He"d wait

till he could make the fifty-minute trip to Fort Wayne.

Or maybe he"d wait a little longer. He wasn"t up to feeling that good. Not yet.

He spotted three boxes stacked in front of the closet. He walked to them and

kicked the bottom box. “My stuff?”

Nancy nodded. “He brought them by a couple of weeks ago. There"s more in the

garage.”

Lincoln grunted.

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Sloan Parker

“He asked about you. Wanted to know how you"re doing.”

“Don"t want to talk about him.”

“He wanted to be there for you—for the arraignment, the sentencing, all of it.

You pushed him away and that wasn"t fair.”

“He"s moved on.”

“But he hasn"t forgotten. You never gave that man closure.”

“He"s got his dick in someone else.” Lincoln dropped to the bed. “I"d say he"s

over it.”

Nancy shifted on her feet, her attention on her shoes until she spoke. “You"ve

got to let it go, Linc. Give yourself permission to forget what happened. Move on.”

“I"m trying to.”

“Forgive yourself.”

That, he couldn"t do.

Nancy was quiet again until he looked her way. She said, “You have a chance

to start over.”

“But do I deserve it?”

She came to the bed and placed a kiss on the top of his head. “You do. And

someday you"ll be able to accept that.” She shut the door behind her before he could

argue.

He shouldn"t have said anything about what he deserved or didn"t deserve.

Nancy didn"t need to deal with his guilt on top of everything else. He toed off his

boots and stretched out on the bed. His feet hung off the end, the backs of his ankles

digging into the edge of the mattress. He sat up and leaned against the headboard,

then grabbed the brown sack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

Maybe with enough, he could close his eyes and not see the woman with red

hair lying broken on the pavement of State Road 91, her green sweater soaked with

blood, her body perfectly still—too still.

Maybe he could forget the biggest mistake of his life.

Breathe

11

Chapter Three

Jay punched at the doorbell with his fist. What were they thinking? In the

middle of the goddamn day? Couldn"t they have waited until after dinner?

His boss was none too pleased when he"d said he needed to take the afternoon

off. It wasn"t like he"d had the job all that long. He might not be able to forgive

himself if he lost another.

He also might not forgive his parents or the Shaws. Did they need to go there

again? So much for the promise he"d made his wife at the funeral. How could he

celebrate her life standing over her—

The door swung open. “You"re late.” His mom grasped his arm and hauled him

inside. The force of her action didn"t fit her small stature or her matching pink skirt

and jacket. Her manicured fingernails dug into his sleeve as she shoved the door

closed. What was she doing opening the door anyway? It wasn"t her house.

He shrugged her off his arm. “Good to see you too, Mom.”

She straightened the collar of his dress shirt and smoothed the fabric over his

shoulders. Her pursed lips proved she wasn"t pleased with his selection. “Your

brother"s even here already.” She hauled Jay into a fierce hug, holding on as she

said, “You didn"t have time to get your hair cut? What will the Shaws think?”

Jay jerked away from her. He had only agreed to go to the cemetery with them

because they had all loved Katie, and the anniversary of the day she died couldn"t

possibly hurt any worse than every other day without her. Could it?

Maybe. Since he had to spend it with his family.

He entered his in-laws" living room, hoping to work his way to a seat beside his

brother. Todd was nowhere in sight.
Great
. Jay hated this part—being alone with

them.

Emily and Stuart Shaw sat on a love seat to his right. Emily smiled in

greeting, but the expression didn"t reach her eyes. He hated looking at her. She was

as beautiful as her daughter had been, despite their differences in personality and

available money to spend on clothes and accessories.

Stuart Shaw was also beautiful, if a man his size could be called such a thing.

He was as into his looks as any woman Jay had known. Never a gray hair in sight,

not a bit of stubble on his face, nor a single hair between his eyebrows. Katie had

teased that the man spent more time preening than either her mother or she. Jay

almost laughed at that as he gave the man a nod, but he held back. There"d be no

explanations for laughter…not today.

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Sloan Parker

Stuart grunted his hello from the sofa.

Standing near the man, Jay always felt insignificant, unimportant, even with

Stuart still seated. As a former defensive lineman for the Indianapolis Colts, Jay"s

father-in-law was the first person most noticed in a room. No matter where. No

matter when. He trumped everyone else.

Jay"s dad stood and stepped forward. He shouldn"t have looked so small, but he

did, whenever they were in the Shaws" house. His dad didn"t speak as he gave Jay"s

shoulder a double pat before returning to his seat. How many people had given Jay

that same reception in the past year? Too many. Although the double pat was more

than most did.

Was it because no one knew what to say? Jay couldn"t help them with that.

Anything they"d likely say he didn"t want to hear. Funny how similar he had

become to his father since the funeral. Detached. Uninterested. As if he was

sleepwalking through life. Jay had always hated that about his dad. The only time

he"d seen the man full of life in any way was when Jay was in high school and he"d

woken up at four thirty in the morning to find his dad in the kitchen filling a travel

thermos full of coffee. The man was headed for his annual fishing and hunting trip.

The animated way he talked about his plans as he poured the coffee was like

nothing Jay had ever seen from the man. Hadn"t since.

Jay also hated sitting in the Shaws" living room. No matter what he wore, he

figured he"d soil the pristine, off-white furniture when he sat. The room smelled of

lemon furniture polish, like it always did. There was no clutter, no day-old

newspaper on the coffee table, no stacks of magazines or catalogs, no knickknacks

or mementos—nothing that signified life happened there, like a painted replica of

the upper-middle class. The worst part…there was not one sign Katie had ever

existed. No photos. No hand-painted gifts from her school years. Not even the

framed poem she"d given her parents when she"d graduated high school. Like she

had never existed. Or they"d erased her from their lives.

Emily offered a cup of coffee to Jay and said, “I"m glad you decided to come.”

“Of course he wanted to come with us,” his mom said as she took a seat on the

couch beside his dad.

Jay gave Emily the most polite smile he could manage and shook his head

about the coffee. Better not to chance anything in this stomach. He chose the

antique wooden rocker several feet away from both sets of parents. The rocker

creaked as he sat. Emily jumped with the sound, and Stuart glared at him. What

was he supposed to do? Apologize for sitting? Stand still? Not breathe? Not live?

No one in the room said a word.

The Shaws didn"t move again, their faces as stern as their postures. Where

had Katie gotten the light and laughter she lived with every day?

The silence stretched on as if none of them spoke the same language, and they

knew it was easier not to speak at all. The sharp grind of a snowplow passing by

outside startled Jay.

Breathe

13

What was he doing there? Surrounding himself with their anger and grief.

He"d been treading in the water of despair so long, the exhaustion a part of his

every molecule, it wouldn"t take much for them to pull him under the surface where

he"d never be able to breathe—where he"d never be alive again the way Katie would

want him to.

His mom dug into her purse as if she just remembered something. She

removed a photo and handed it to Emily. “It"s the same as the one in our living

room. I"ve been meaning to get a copy made for you.”

“Oh,” Emily said, the sound more of a gasp than a word. “It"s…” She bit her

bottom lip, and it quivered when she let go. “It"s lovely. Thank you.” She held the

photo out for her husband. Stuart leaned to look but didn"t touch it. When he sat

back, Emily rested the photo in her hands on her lap. Tears filled her eyes as she

stared at it, and then she set the picture on the coffee table in front of her as if she

couldn"t hold it for another second.

Jay didn"t want to see it. He jumped out of the chair and went to stand at the

large picture window. Fresh snow coated the ground. It sparkled and glinted the

way new snow did when it hadn"t been disturbed by any part of the world. Almost

beautiful.

Almost.

The snow blanketed every surface: the lawn, the porch railing, the neighbor"s

roof across the street, his wife"s grave they"d be visiting shortly. Cold, heavy snow

covered her dead, lifeless body. Jay didn"t want to see that. But he had no choice.

Did he? He always went with his parents and the Shaws. On Katie"s birthday. On

his wedding anniversary. On every Sunday for the first three months after the

accident. Until his dad had spoken up, saying Jay needed to get distance from it all.

Funny how his dad had done that. The man never talked against his wife"s wishes.

Hadn"t since, come to think of it. Was there anything that would make him do it

again?

Probably not. Because here they were again. “Something to mark the day,” his

mom had said. Like there"d be any forgetting.

Falling snow piled on top of the four inches from overnight. Drifts still covered

the sidewalks lining the street, but not the Shaws" walkway or their driveway. Jay

couldn"t picture Stuart out hefting shovel loads of snow. The man had the body for

physical labor; he just didn"t have the demeanor for it. They"d have a service that

came first thing after every snowfall. That"s how people like the Shaws did things.

By not doing anything at all.

The silence unnerved Jay. Any minute they"d start up. He almost counted off

the seconds. He wouldn"t have gotten far.

The winner…Stuart Shaw.

“One year. One goddamn year, and that man is walking around like nothing

happened.”

14

Sloan Parker

Jay squeezed his eyes shut, closing off the picturesque winter scene before

him.

The words “vehicular manslaughter” rang in his ears as the foursome at his

back addressed the charges, the plea agreement, and the sentencing of the one man

Jay didn"t want to think about. Didn"t they realize talking about it couldn"t change

the past?

He crept out of the room and headed for the Shaws" kitchen. He"d dated Katie

since they were fifteen, had known her since her family had moved to town when

she was seven. He was as familiar with the Shaws" place as his own parents" house.

He opened the fridge and pushed aside the cage-free eggs and package of Brie to

rescue a Heineken hidden in the back. He tossed the bottle cap onto the table and

sat, downing the beer in a series of long gulps. And since no one had come for him,

he helped himself to another.

He opened the cabinet door under the sink to toss the empty bottle into the

recycling bin and stopped short. The polished, stainless steel garbage pail contained

only a clean, white trash bag that smelled of citrus fruit. Not a scrap of food or piece

of junk mail. Not one empty box of macaroni and cheese or wad of used tissues.

Nothing.

Like the first time.

Katie had laughed for ten minutes before she calmed enough to tell him about

her mother"s obsessive need to have all the trash receptacles in the house fresh and

clean whenever guests arrived. It didn"t matter Jay was a fifteen-year-old who was

only there for dinner because that"s what the Shaws demanded before he and Katie

could go on a date. Like any teenage boy trying to get to third base cared whether