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 a halfway-decent guy, he would walk away now. That a man like him had no place in her life. But he couldn’t leave, just as he’d never been able to forget.
“I remember that day,” he admitted. “You were acting like there was something on your mind.”
“There was. You. At fourteen, my girlish heart trembled whenever you were around.”
He liked the sound of that. “That bad, huh?”
She nodded. “I took hope in the fact that you didn’t seem interested in anyone else, but was worried you only saw me as a friend. I was determined to tell you the truth. I was also terrified. What if you didn’t like me back?”
“I did like you. But I was too old for you.”
“I see that now.” She grinned. “Eighteen. How is that possible? I’m totally freaked. I’ll recover but I’ll need a moment.” Her smile faded. “Justice, when you were just gone it was... Well, we all missed you and were worried about you.”
He reached across the table and lightly touched the back of her hand. “I know. I’m sorry about that.”
“It was like you were never there in the first place. I used to walk by the house and hope you’d show up as mysteriously as you’d left.”
He’d hoped she had done that, he admitted, if only to himself. He’d often thought of her, wondering if she remembered him. Some days memories of Patience were all that had gotten him through.
“Were you really here last fall?” she asked.
“Briefly.
