“Ending world hunger.”
She laughed. The happy sound took him back in years to when they’d been kids together. He’d been forced to lie every second of every day. He’d been discouraged from making friends and fitting in too much, but he’d defied them all, claiming Patience as his own. Even then he’d known he was different, but he’d still wanted to belong. Being friends with her had been the only “normal” part of his life. He’d needed her to survive.
His choice had been selfish and she’d paid the price for his decision. When he’d had to leave, he hadn’t been able to tell her why. Later, he’d known getting in touch with her would bring her into his world. He’d liked Patience too much to sully her with that.
So what was his excuse now? As he stared into her eyes, he knew he’d again chosen what he wanted rather than what was right for her. But he’d been unable to resist the call of his past. Maybe he’d secretly been hoping she wasn’t as good as he remembered. Now he had to deal with the fact that she was even better.
She leaned toward him. “You’ve stalled long enough, Justice. What happened all those years ago? One second you were there and the next you were gone.”
She still wore her brown hair long. He remembered the slight wave and how her hair had moved as she walked, swinging back and forth. Sexy.
He’d been too old for her then. At least that’s what he’d told himself every time he’d been tempted to kiss her. An eighteen-year-old masquerading as a sixteen-year-old, to outwit the man who wanted him dead.
“I was in the witness protection program.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
He let the words sink in and took a moment to study the cartoon hairstylist on the front of her black “Chez Julia” T-shirt. The drawn hairdresser was wielding scissors with comical intent.
“Are you kidding?” Patience asked. “Seriously? Here?”
“Where better than Fool’s Gold?”
“That can’t be real. It sounds like something from the movies.”
“It was plenty real.” He sipped his coffee and thought about his past. He rarely talked about it. Even his closest friends weren’t privy to the details.
“My father was a career criminal,” he said slowly. “The kind of man who believed the world owed him a living. He went from one scheme to the next. If he’d put half as much effort into working a steady job, he could have made a fortune, but that wasn’t his way.”
Patience’s eyes widened as she held on to her cup. “Please don’t make me cry with your story.”
He raised one shoulder. “I’ll do my best to stick to the facts.”
“Because they won’t make me cry?” She drew in a breath. “Okay, bad father. And then what?”
“When I was seventeen, he and a couple of buddies held up a convenience store. The owner and a clerk were killed and my dad was the one who pulled the trigger. The friends were caught and gave up my dad. Bart. His name was Bart Hanson.” Justice had been born Bart Hanson Jr., but he’d rejected that name years ago. Had it legally changed. He’d wanted nothing that had belonged to his father.
“The local SWAT team came to take him in. Dad wasn’t going without a fight. He’d planned everything and was going to take out as many officers as he could. I figured out what he was going to do and jumped on his back. I distracted him long enough for the police to get him. He wasn’t happy with me.”
An understatement, he thought. His father had cursed him, vowing to punish his son, no matter what it took. Everyone who knew Bart Hanson had believed he was more than capable of murdering his only child.
“That’s so horrible. Where was your mother in all this?”
“She’d died years before. A car accident.”
He didn’t bother mentioning that the car’s brakes had been cut. Local law enforcement had suspected Bart but had been unable to make the charges stick.
“When I testified against my father, his anger turned to rage. Right after sentencing, he broke out of jail and came after me. I was put into a witness protection program and brought here. That’s when we met.”
She shook her head. “That’s amazing, and scary. I can’t believe you went through all that. You never hinted or...” She looked at him. “Seventeen? You were seventeen? I thought you were fifteen. We celebrated your birthday when you turned sixteen.”
“I lied.”
“About your age?”
“It was part of me being in the program. I was two years older than you thought. Still am.”
He could see she wasn’t amused by the joke. “I was only fourteen.”
“I know. That’s why I never—” He picked up his coffee. “Anyway, my dad was spotted in the area. I was living with a marshal at the time. The decision was made to get me out of town immediately. I wanted to tell you, Patience. But I couldn’t. By the time my dad was caught and put away, so much time had passed. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
Or that he should get in touch with her. Even now, telling her the sanitized version of his past was a lot for her to take in. She looked dazed. He’d lived it and he still had trouble believing it had happened.
“What happened to your father?” she asked. “Is he still behind bars?”
“He’s dead. Died in a prison fire.”
Burned beyond recognition, he thought. Bart had been identified using dental records. A hell of a way to go, Justice thought, still aware that he felt nothing for the old man. Nothing except relief he was gone.
The question of how much of his father lived within him wasn’t anything he was going to discuss with her. That was for the late nights when he was alone and the shadows pressed in. Patience wasn’t a part of that. She was light to his dark, and he didn’t want that to change.
“My head is spinning,” she admitted, then put down her coffee. “You know what’s really twisted? I’m actually still more surprised that you were eighteen when I thought you were sixteen than the fact that you were in a witness protection program because your father wanted you dead. I think that means there’s something wrong with me. I apologize for that.”
He smiled at her. “At least you have priorities.”
She studied him for a second, then ducked her head. “I can’t imagine what you had to go through. Here I was, feeling sorry for myself because I had this crazy crush on you. I wanted to tell you. In fact, I was going to that last day, but Ford walked up.”
He told himself the information was interesting but not important. Even so, he felt a sense of satisfaction, quickly followed by a sense of loss. He’d often wondered what would have happened if he’d just been a regular kid who happened to live in Fool’s Gold. Unfortunately his luck had never been that good.
He knew if he were
