Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

The night his wife and twin daughters had died.

In the present, hot tears poured down his cheeks, leaving raw, stinging tracks in their wake. Two and a half years ago, a frat boy had drunk too much at a local bar, climbed into his car and drove away. No one had cared enough to stop him. Only nine minutes, twenty-three seconds later, he crashed into Constance Laurent’s minivan, ruining Jude’s life forever.

Constance died on her way to the hospital. The twins, Bailey and Hailey, died on impact.

The entire world should have ceased spinning that—very—second. The galaxy should have mourned the loss of such beauty, laughter and light. Rare treasures, his girls.

Dance with me, Daddy. I found my moves and my grooves!

Daddy, I’m not joking and I’m not playing. I need chocolate right now or I’m gonna lose it.

Lose what, little sweet?

I don’t know. It.

In the ensuing weeks, people had offered him what they thought were words of comfort. Meant to be. No stopping fate.

More lies. Fate hadn’t poured alcohol down Frat Boy’s throat, and fate hadn’t put car keys in his hand.

Besides, nothing comforted Jude. The only arms capable of offering him solace were now rotting in a grave.

All he had were memories of a life he’d adored. Memories he both loved and despised. He remembered the way Bailey’s nose had crinkled when she’d giggled. The way Hailey had twirled a strand of hair around her finger when she cried. The way Constance had blown him a kiss every time he’d walked out the door, whether he’d been headed for another mission or to the grocery store.

He had nothing left...was nothing...hoped for nothing.

Yet another lie. He had friends who’d swooped in the moment he’d called. Gone...they’re just...gone.

What he lacked now was a purpose.

Perhaps he’d found one in the Scratching Post? At least a temporary one. By saving Ryanne and the bar he despised with every fiber of his being, he would save Daniel and Brock from losing someone they cared for.

Through the trials of war, they too had walked hand-in-hand with pain and grief, sorrow and loneliness. Overseas, they’d lost friends in a thousand different ways. They’d overcome great odds to save Jude on the bloodiest of battlefields, carrying him away when he couldn’t even crawl, his leg nothing but a butchered stump, gunfire raining all around them.

Jude wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt and fell back on his haunches. He loved his friends, but he missed his family more than he missed his leg. Sometimes he had phantom pains, allowing him to pretend the leg was still there. At no time did he ever forget he was a family man without a family. Essentially alone.

He wished he could be more like Ryanne. She lived in the moment, enjoyed the highs and rolled with the lows. Embraced them even, learning from her mistakes and basking in her triumphs.

Irritation pricked at him. Be like a bar owner? A person who served alcohol to potential motorists? Never.

He would go on as always, pretending to live, breaking down, pretending to live again.

I’ll never give up.

Don’t miss CAN’T LET GO by New York Times bestselling author Gena Showalter, coming soon wherever HQN Books and ebooks are sold.