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

CARTER SAGGED AGAINST the hallway wall. Disappointment made it hard to swallow. He was out of ideas, he thought sadly. Out of ways to make Gideon see what was important.

He turned and walked to his bedroom, where he quickly collected his computer and a few clothes. The rest could wait. He didn’t think Gideon would care if he came back and got it later. After zipping up his backpack, he walked down the hallway to the master suite.

Gideon stood outside the door. “You don’t have to do this,” he said.

Carter didn’t hear Felicia answer, but he guessed it was something along the lines of not having a choice.

Carter moved past him and walked into the bedroom. Felicia looked up.

“Carter, what are you...” Her gaze settled on the backpack. “You heard.”

He nodded.

“You don’t have to leave, Carter. This is your home. Gideon is your father. He wants you with him.”

“If he can’t love you, he can’t love me, either. I’m a kid, Felicia. I need to be where the love is.” His heart stopped as he realized she might have just been saying the words rather than meaning them. “If you want me.”

“Oh, Carter. I love you. Of course you can come live with me.”

He didn’t remember moving, but suddenly she was holding him and he was hanging on and neither of them was going to let go. He’d wanted it all—a set of parents and a home, but two out of three wasn’t bad.

CHAPTER TWENTY

GIDEON WAITED UNTIL dawn to go running. He’d wanted to leave earlier but knew the stupidity of heading up the mountain while it was still dark. He would take responsibility for breaking his neck but didn’t see the point in needing a second rescue party in less than twenty-four hours.

As soon as the sun cleared the top of the mountain, he was out and moving. He drove himself hard, quickly breaking out in a sweat and breathing hard.

The uneven terrain challenged his body but left his mind free to wander. Free to think and speculate. What were they doing now?

He’d spent the night wandering the house. He’d tried to sleep a few times but hadn’t been successful. The place he’d once seen as his haven was too large, too empty. The quiet had pressed in on him until he’d wanted to be anywhere else.

He tripped over uneven ground and went down on one knee. The sharp pain sent him back to his feet and he kept running. Blood trickled down his leg but he ignored it, ignored all of it. He could outrun anything. That was what he had to believe.

They were gone because he’d asked them to go. It was the right decision. He couldn’t be what either Carter or Felicia needed. There wasn’t enough left. He should be happy, or at least relieved.

But he wasn’t. He was empty and hollow. He was as broken as he had ever been, and he was a man who had been to the edge of hell. He’d been dragged out of a prison cell maybe days or even hours before he would have died. He had bled into the ground of his captors’ prison, and he would never be able to forget that. No matter what he thought or how he felt, he couldn’t allow that to touch anyone else. Especially not Felicia or Carter.

Sometime later, exhausted and dripping sweat, he made his way back to his house. As he stepped out of the trees, he saw his truck parked in the driveway.

For a second he allowed himself to hope she’d returned. She’d taken his truck last night because they’d left her car in town. But as he approached the vehicle, he knew she hadn’t been there at all. She would have sent Justice with either Ford or Angel to return it. She would take care of business. Take care of her responsibilities. But she wouldn’t be back.

* * *

FELICIA REACQUAINTED HERSELF with her kitchen. She’d been at Gideon’s so long her rental had ceased to be her home. As she opened cupboards and checked the pantry, she realized she was missing most of the cooking gadgets she’d grown to love. And the space itself was way too small.

She’d rented the small townhouse back before she’d known if she could make a home in Fool’s Gold. It was a simple, furnished two-bedroom unit with a small living room/dining room combination. The furniture was modern and masculine. The owner, a lawyer-type businessman named Dante Jefferson, had recently moved into a house with his new wife.

She heard footsteps on the stairs. Carter walked into the kitchen, still rubbing his eyes. He wore a baggy T-shirt and PJ bottoms. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were puffy.

“Get any sleep?” she asked.

“Some.”

He’d obviously been crying, but she wasn’t going to mention that.

“Are you hungry?” She walked to the refrigerator and pulled it open. “There’s nothing here, so I thought we’d go out for breakfast, then stop by the grocery store. Also, I want to talk to you about us moving. I rented this place when it was just me. I think we need a larger space. More living area and a bigger bedroom for you. Maybe a yard for a dog.”

He stared at her. “You’re really keeping me.” He sounded surprised.