Breathe (33 page)

table underneath disturbed Jay. Was everyone around him losing their minds?

Maybe Emily finally reaching the stage of grief Jay had been at before he"d met

Lincoln was a good thing. Maybe she"d understand his actions one day.

“He"s sorry,” Jay said.

“Yes. We heard what he said at the courthouse.”

Stuart spun around, his hands clenched into fists. “It"s what any decent

human being would"ve said.”

“He is decent,” Jay said. “The guilt—the accident almost destroyed him.”

“I can"t hear this.” Stuart stalked out of the room.

“It destroyed all of us,” Emily said, her voice so low maybe her words weren"t

meant for anyone else.

Jay couldn"t ignore them. “It doesn"t have to.” He paused. “She"d want us all to

live again.”

Emily nodded. It was more than he had expected he"d get from her, or her

husband.

“I have something else to tell you.”

Her eyes widened. Perhaps she had heard all she could handle, but he had to

say the rest.

“I"m not keeping the money. I never wanted it.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I didn"t either.”

“I"m giving it to the nursing school for a scholarship in her name.”

More tears fell, and she swiped at them. “Will you come see us again?”

Would Stuart Shaw appreciate that?

Emily smiled with a sweetness reminiscent of her daughter. She needed

something from Jay.

For the first time in over a year, he felt as though he could give it. “I promise

I"ll keep in touch.”

He could give a lot more than he thought he"d have left in him to give.

* * *

longer than he planned, but not long enough for him to figure out what to say.

He wasn"t a coward, though.

He climbed the porch steps and knocked on the front door. He couldn"t recall

ever having knocked before entering the house. He had lived there for five years.

Then, he"d parked his truck in the garage and entered through the side door.

Not today. Today, he waited with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

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171

The door finally opened. Only it wasn"t whom he expected standing inside. The

man had blond hair, a tall, lean body, and a crooked smile. Cute guy.

A dog barked and came barreling out the door.

“Duke.” Lincoln dropped to his knee and let the dog lick his face. “Remember

me, buddy? You are huge.” He stroked the dog"s fur.

“Lincoln?” The blond guy sounded pissed.

Lincoln stood. “Yeah. Is Paul home?”

“He is.” Blond Guy didn"t make a move to let Lincoln in, or to call out for Paul.

“Can I talk to him?”

Blond Guy shifted on his feet, his gaze darting from the ground to Lincoln"s

face to the ground again. “Are you here to take him back?”

“No.”

“Good.” Blond Guy opened the door and stepped aside. “Why don"t you have a

seat. You know your way around. I"ll get Paul.” He took off up the stairs. Duke ran

after him, tail wagging. Why wouldn"t he? The dog was just a pup when Lincoln had

lived there. This guy had obviously been around for a while.

Lincoln closed the door behind him, holding on to the doorknob a little too long.

He gathered his nerves and moved away from the escape route. This wasn"t going to

be easy, but he wouldn"t chicken out.

The house hadn"t changed much. Same living room furniture they"d bought

after his first big win. Same recliner with the built-in massager. Same

entertainment center and huge-ass TV. Same table in the hallway that still held

stacks of junk mail, pizza flyers, and bills. Lincoln made for the couch and then

stopped short of sitting. Paul and he had spent too many hours there. Kissing,

touching, fucking. He headed for the kitchen. The table wasn"t a much better choice.

There really was nowhere in the house he and Paul hadn"t made love. The hallway,

the stairs, the living room floor, the kitchen counters. Several years together meant

a lot of memories. A lot of shared moments, intimacies. What would he be

remembering seven years from now? Would he be looking back on the time he"d had

with Jay? A year together? Two? Seven?

He sank into a chair at the table and waited.

Footsteps started down the staircase. He stood as Paul came into the room.

They stared at each other, but said nothing.

Paul looked the same. A touch thinner. Nothing anyone would notice except a

mother or a former lover. He wore his old high school state wrestling finals T-shirt

with the tear on the right sleeve, and a pair of new jeans. The mix of old and new

mocked Lincoln. The past wasn"t forgotten, but life had continued on. He"d missed a

Christmas, a birthday, an anniversary.

Blond Guy walked into the kitchen wearing a coat and carrying a set of keys.

He kissed Paul on the cheek, said, “I"ll call you later,” and left out the side door to

the garage.

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Lincoln had missed a lot. “Does he live here?”

“Not yet.” Paul went to the sink and filled a glass with tap water. “You want

something to drink?”

Lincoln inspected the tabletop. Same long scratch on the edge. They had

dinged the table when they"d moved it into the house from his apartment.

Paul was watching him. “Why did you come? I gave Nancy the last of your

stuff.”

“I got it. Thanks.”

“Sit down, Lincoln.” Paul carried his water to the table and sat.

Lincoln joined him. Words were really failing him. This wasn"t supposed to be

easy, but hell, it could go a little better. He cleared his throat.

“Just say it,” Paul said and took a short sip of his water. He pursed his lips

with the swallow as if he hadn"t wanted any of it in the first place. He set the glass

on the table and skated his fingers over the side of the smooth surface. A nervous

gesture he couldn"t hide. The unease of Paul"s movements hit home what Lincoln

had done to the man.

Lincoln leaned forward and ran his thumb along the crack in the wood table.

“I"m sorry. I never should have left like that.”

“You don"t have to say this now.”

“I do. I only thought of myself, of what I wanted for everyone. You. Nancy. Me.

I thought I was going to ruin your life, drag you through shit you didn"t deserve

because of me and what I"d done. I didn"t listen when you tried to tell me what you

wanted. You wanted to be there for me.”

Paul clutched the glass in his hand again as if the contact was all that held

back the emotion. Anger? Sadness? Relief? “I did,” he said. “That"s what family does.

Of all people, I thought you"d get that. You"d never let Nancy push you away.”

He was right. Lincoln said, “What happened that night—it"s the hardest thing

I"ve lived through.”

“You made it worse on yourself.”

“I get that now. At the time I figured I deserved all the pain. But you didn"t.”

Lincoln paused. “We had a good life.”

Paul finally looked at him. “We did.”

“I"m sorry I threw it away.”

They held the stare for a moment, and then Paul let out a long sigh, like he"d

been holding his breath since he"d entered the room. He nodded.

Lincoln sat back in the chair and asked, “Are you happy?”

“Yeah.”

“He"s good for you?”

“He is.” Paul smiled and gave Lincoln a playful look. He was about to tease.

“Mom loves him.”

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Lincoln shook his head and laughed. “How"d he manage that?”

“He"s a doctor.”

“Ah. A mother"s dream. And not a race car driver.”

Paul leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “Lincoln, I hope you

coming here means you"re trying to move past what happened. It was an accident.”

“I"m starting to accept that.”

“You should. How are Nancy and the kids? I tried to check in with her, but she

wouldn"t talk to me, wouldn"t say if anything was—”

“It"s okay. She"s stubborn as hell.”

Paul bit his lip, but he couldn"t hold back the smile. “Must run in the family.”

Lincoln laughed again. He never thought he"d be able to sit with Paul and

laugh, or smile, or talk. “I appreciate you trying. He"s gone now and won"t hurt them

anymore. That"s what matters.”

“Did he hurt the kids?”

“Not with his fists.”

“I"m sorry. I wish I"d been able to help.”

“I didn"t make that easy for you to do. You"re a good man for trying.”

They were quiet as Paul drank more of his water. His body had relaxed, and he

looked calm, peaceful. He glanced Lincoln"s way and asked, “Do you love him?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“How—”

“He came by here. Told me he was an old friend, but he didn"t fool me. He had

a taste, and he wanted more. Did he get it?”

The smirk that hit Lincoln"s lips wasn"t anything he could"ve prevented. “He

did.”

“And it"s serious?”

“I"d like it to be. But—”

“Don"t.”

“What?”

Paul reached out and laid his hand over Lincoln"s. “Don"t push him away. Let

someone in this time. Let yourself be happy.” Paul removed his hand. Lincoln"s own

was flat to the tabletop. The crack in the surface had disappeared under his palm.

Lincoln blinked away the moisture forming in his eyes. He wished there was

more he could say to Paul, but sometimes words weren"t enough.

They stood, and together they moved in silence through the house they once

shared. Paul opened the front door and asked, “You walked here?”

“Yeah.”

“The suspension was up last week.”

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“Just haven"t—not yet.” Lincoln stepped onto the porch and faced Paul. “You

tell your doctor he"s a lucky man.”

“I will. You tell your guy he is too.”

Was Jay lucky? The man had lost the life he thought he"d have. Was Lincoln

the right future for Jay? And could they ever look at each other and not see a red-

haired woman between them?

Breathe

175

Chapter Twenty-five

Finding Jay proved more difficult than it should have in a town the size of

Edgefield. Of course Lincoln was walking around like a man without so much as a

dime to his name. He headed back to Nancy"s.

He stopped at the end of the driveway and stared at his truck. Nancy had

driven it once or twice when she needed it, but other than that, it had sat parked in

the driveway since he"d been released from the jail. He hadn"t so much as gotten

behind the wheel since the day he tried to drive Jessica to school. Was he ready?

Would he ever be?

He passed by the truck and went into the house. The kids weren"t home and

neither was Nancy. She"d had the night off, so he had expected her to be there by

now. He took note of the missing bikes on his way through the garage. Probably at

the park. There were bike paths with benches along the way for Jessica to rest.

Nancy would let Jessica ride in short spurts, but only when they could go together.

Lincoln climbed the stairs and opened the door to his room. A bright pink

child"s bike helmet sat on top of his sleeping bag. He crossed the room in three

strides, dropped to his knees, and grabbed the helmet. A note was taped inside. He

tore it open.

She forgot her helmet. I hope a truck doesn’t cross over onto the sidewalk.

The helmet hit the floor, and he sped out the door and down the steps. He ran

through the house and swept the keys off the kitchen counter.

It was all too much like that night. Rushing to his truck. Someone he loved in

trouble, and he wasn"t there to protect them. The fear. The agonizing wait to find

out what had happened. To find out if someone he loved was hurt.

Lincoln tugged open the driver"s-side door of his truck and got in. His hands

shook as he gripped the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

He thrust the gearshift into reverse, flung his arm over the back of the seat,

and turned to look behind him. He couldn"t do it. He couldn"t let off the brake. Never

mind give the truck gas.

He took a deep breath. He would not let anyone hurt his family. He lifted the

foot pressing on the brake.

Davy came into view first. The kid pedaled like mad along the sidewalk twenty

feet in front of his mom and sister. He wore a helmet. Jessica did not.

Lincoln threw the truck into park and shoved open the door with his shoulder.

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“Uncle Linc!” Jessica"s scream wasn"t one of fear or pain. She was always so

damn happy to see him.

Lincoln went straight for her. She pulled to a stop as he approached, and Davy

spun around and circled them, pedaling as fast as before. Lincoln crouched on one

knee next to Jessica"s bike and shook her shoulders. “Don"t ride without your helmet

again. In fact, no more goddamn bike riding.”

“Lincoln!” Nancy stopped her bike beside Jessica"s. “She couldn"t find it. I told

her it was okay this time. We stayed on the sidewalk.”

“I"m sorry, Uncle Lincoln.” Tears streamed down Jessica"s face.

He let go of her shoulders. “Shit.” He held her in his arms. “I didn"t mean to