Two of a Kind (Fool's Gold #11)

“You did a good job raising yourself.”


“I dealt with what I had,” she said with a smile. “I like to think my studies have helped other people, so when I have regrets about what happened, I remember that.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“Sometimes.”

Carter disappeared around a bend in the road. Felicia started to pedal faster.

“Don’t worry. The road dead-ends at the lookout. He’s got nowhere to go.”

“Over the edge.”

“You’re a worrier,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Just because I can calculate the odds of various outcomes doesn’t mean I’m a worrier.”

“Sure it does.”

* * *

FELICIA WAS CONCERNED that Gideon was being critical, but from the way he was looking at her, she thought maybe not. If she had to guess, she would say his voice had a teasing quality to it.

They rode around the side of the mountain and found themselves on a large flat plateau. Trees and rocks provided a natural wall on three sides, while the fourth was a stunning view of the entire valley. She could see the town and the vineyards beyond. In the distance turbines spun in the afternoon breeze. Carter had leaned his bike against a rock. His helmet was on the ground, and he was standing with his back to them.

“What do you think?” Gideon asked, coming to a stop beside her.

Before she could say she was impressed, she noticed Carter’s hunched shoulders were shaking.

“Leave me alone!” he yelled without turning around. “Just leave me alone.”

His reaction was hostile, almost angry, she thought, taking in his body language. She saw the stiffness in his legs and the odd way he held his arms. For a second she thought he’d fallen and was hurt, but then she understood he was upset for reasons that had nothing to do with physical pain.

“What the hell?” Gideon muttered, starting toward him.

“Stop.” She grabbed his arm. “He needs to be alone for a few minutes.”

Gideon took off his helmet and glared at her. “Why?”

She drew him to the other side of the plateau. “He’s crying.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I’m not sure. I’m guessing.”

He stared at her. “You’re guessing? You don’t guess.”

“I think that’s what’s wrong.”

“Why’s he upset?” Gideon asked. “Why now? It’s been a couple of weeks. Everything is going okay. I thought he and I had fun at the radio station. Was I wrong?”

“No. He liked spending time with you. Maybe that’s the problem.” She felt as if she was stepping through a minefield without a map.

“He’s been through a lot,” she continued. “Losing his mom, the foster care situation, finding you. He had no way of knowing if you’d want anything to do with him. He just showed up. That’s very brave, but also terrifying. What if you’d rejected him? What if you still might?”

“I wouldn’t have thrown him out or anything. His home is with me.” Now he was the one to shift uncomfortably. “I know I’m not the best dad, but I’m working on getting more involved with him.”

“I know, but he doesn’t. Give him a moment. He’ll be fine.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Him crying? That’s a response to socialization. If he were a thirteen-year-old girl, you’d be more understanding. As a society, we don’t like our boys to cry, but they need the emotional release just as much. It’s not unhealthy.”

Gideon’s mouth twisted. “I meant I don’t like you being insightful. You’re already too smart. If you understand people as well as everything scientific or mathematical, how can we ever have a fair fight?”

She smiled, feeling a little proud of herself. “You’ll always be able to best me physically.”

“Like I’d hit a girl.”

* * *

FELICIA PULLED THE brownie pan from the oven. The smell of chocolate drifted throughout the house, which was enjoyable on its own, but what really pleased her was the satisfaction she received from baking. Logically, it made no sense. The creation of a brownie from disparate ingredients was the result of a chemical reaction when heat and time were applied. There was no magic. She’d performed much more complicated experiments in a lab. There, the results had had significance. Still, baking brownies was better, she thought happily, and she couldn’t begin to say why.