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horror when she saw he wasn"t
    wearing it anymore. She hadn"t bothered to ask him why. He hadn"t done what she
    expected, and that was all that mattered to her.
    The group stood in a semicircle around the grave. Jay kept to his usual
    distance—a step behind the parents—Todd at his side, and fidgeted with the collar
    of his shirt. Damn thing was too tight. His mom had bought it for him when he was

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    Sloan Parker

    sixteen. He"d have worn something else, but all he had were T-shirts and jeans. His
    mom never would"ve gone for that. The only suit, dress shirt, and tie he"d owned as
    an adult were the ones he"d worn a year ago for the funeral, and he"d thrown those
    in the trash the minute he"d gotten home.
    Jay hadn"t had so much as a sports coat before then. Todd had purchased the
    suit for him and brought it to Jay"s house the morning of the visitation.
    “So young,” his mom said. She knelt on the ground and dropped a hand to the
    snow-covered grave. Why? It wasn"t like Katie could feel her touch. “So unfair,” she
    added. “What was she doing out so late all alone?” The same question she always
    asked.
    Jay sucked in a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Emily slipped her
    arm around his waist, but he pulled away from her and kept his back to his family.
    He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes until he was certain he wouldn"t cry.
    He would not shed one tear. Not in front of them.

    * * *
“Doesn"t your truck wanna start?”
    Jessica sat beside Lincoln in his pickup, her tiny form looking frail in the large
    cab. A pink and white Hello Kitty backpack was draped across her lap and her
    yellow winter boots dangled over the edge of the bench. The booster seat raised her
    several inches, but the seat belt still crossed her too close to her neck for his
    comfort.
    When he didn"t answer, she added, “Ain"t you gonna try it?”
    “I guess.” He turned the ignition key, and the truck roared to life. Had the
    engine always sounded that loud? He gripped the top of the steering wheel with
    both hands. The custom wheel cover had cost a fortune, but at the time, it had
    mattered that his truck felt similar to his race car. The hubris of one who hadn"t
    become a killer.
    When his knuckles turned white, he eased up on the grip. The shaking in his
    hands had nothing to do with wanting a drink, but it—and the thirst—had a lot to
    do with the fear of “what ifs” a man like him could never escape.
    He cut the engine and clicked the release on her seat belt. “We"re walking.”
    Jessica smiled. “Okay.” She tossed her backpack aside, opened her door, and
    disappeared behind the side of the vehicle. Her hand returned a moment later as
    she groped onto the seat for her backpack. Lincoln shoved it within her reach, and
    she lugged it out the open door.
    He exited the truck and joined her on the sidewalk where she fumbled with a
    twisted strap. He helped her unwind it and slid the pack off her shoulders. “I"ll
    carry it.”
    They walked two blocks in silence. As they rounded a corner, she slipped on an
    icy section of the walk, and he grasped her hand to steady her. When she was

    Breathe

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    walking with a firm step, she made no attempt to remove her hand from his, and
    that suited him fine.
    “Uncle Lincoln?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Ain"t you gonna live with Uncle Paul no more?”
    “No.”
    “Can I still call him Uncle Paul?” She jumped to avoid a pile of snow, leaning
    her weight into his hand.
    Lincoln stopped and looked down at her. “Didn"t your mom—oh hell, you
    probably won"t see him again.”
    “Oh.” She breathed deep.
    “Do you need me to carry you?”
    “Nope. We"re almost there.” She tugged on his hand, and they walked side by
    side again.
    “You got your inhaler with you?” What the hell was he thinking making her
    walk? Tomorrow he"d get behind the fucking wheel and actually drive. Of course he
    was limited to driving for work, and if the interview didn"t go well today, he"d