Claiming Felicity (Ace Security #4)(36)

Felicity gestured to a picture across the room of a woman. “She was beautiful. Had long brown hair that I wished I had more than once instead of my blonde hair. Her eyes were so kind, it was the first thing I noticed about her when I first came to her house as a foster kid. She always had something nice to say about everyone . . . except Joseph. She hated him for what he was doing to me as much as I did. So I left with her encouragement. I called her on March third every year, the day she first brought me home. I used a burner phone so Joe couldn’t track the call.

“After the first time he found me when I was living in San Antonio, I realized that I needed to get serious about hiding. I’d been using my real name and not being as careful as I should’ve been about using my mom’s credit card. I used some of the money my mom gave me and bought myself a new identity. Megan Parkins was gone, and Felicity Jones was born. I had a Social Security number and a fake birth certificate, but I was scared to use them. Somehow using a different name and picture ID didn’t seem too bad, but if I used that Social Security card, I’d feel like a criminal. So I lived off the radar. Paid cash for everything. Got jobs where I could get paid under the table. I started to work out more, because I was bored, and anything else cost money, but also because I think a part of me thought if I changed what I looked like on the outside, it would make me stronger on the inside. That being stronger would make me feel less vulnerable.

“I saved a lot of money. The more I saved, the less I wanted to spend. It felt like as long as I had the cash hidden in my stuff, the better off I was. I lived off cheap food and even cheaper crappy apartments. I eventually made my way up here to Castle Rock and met Cole when we literally ran into each other while jogging. I liked it here, and liked Cole. I took a chance and used the money I’d saved up to open Rock Hard Gym with him, and you know the rest.”

“Tell me about your trip to Chicago earlier this year,” Ryder said softly.

She turned over, putting her back to him, and Ryder immediately curled up behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back into him. He propped his head on his other arm and leaned into her, nuzzling her hair. His larger body surrounded her, giving her his warmth as she continued her story.

“Every couple of days, I checked the Chicago news. Maybe in the hopes of reading something about Joseph getting arrested or something. But I saw an article about a fire in my old neighborhood. There was a picture of a burned-out shell of a house with a car half-burned sitting in the garage.”

Her breath hitched with a sob, and Ryder tightened his arm, showing her his support the only way he could at that moment.

“It was my mom’s house. They found her in her bedroom. Dead. The police suspected foul play, and I knew in my gut Joseph had murdered her.”

Ryder could hear her sniffing and knew she was crying. His heart broke for her, and his hatred for the man who’d done this to her continued to grow.

“I had to go home for her funeral. I had to. I drove all the way out there and sat in the back of the church during the service. She had so many friends. So many, Ryder. The church was full. I even went to the graveside ceremony. I pretended to be there for someone else, sitting on a bench in front of a stranger’s grave, but I never would’ve forgiven myself if I missed my mom’s funeral. I killed her, Ryder. I might not’ve lit the match, but as surely as I’m lying here, I killed her.”

Ryder turned her then. She stared up at him with her blue eyes swimming in tears. They fell out of the corners of her eyes and dripped into her hair next to her ears. She clutched his biceps as she lay under him staring into his eyes, her misery and self-loathing easy to see in the low light coming from the bathroom.

“No, love. You didn’t kill her.”

“I did. And I can’t let it happen again. He’ll kill Grace. Or her babies. Or you. I just can’t—”

Ryder cut her off. “I hope he tries,” he bit out.

That surprised Felicity. She blinked. “What?”

“I hope that fucker tries to kill me. I want to be face-to-face with him when I slit his throat. Listen to me, Felicity. You did not kill your mom. That motherfucker did.”

“But if I hadn’t stayed away for so long, he—”

“No,” he interrupted again, not wanting to hear whatever bullshit she was thinking. “If you hadn’t stayed away for so long, he would’ve killed you. You did everything right.”

“But my mom is dead. I never got to see her again after I left. I miss her, Ryder. I miss her so much.” Her tears started leaking as if a faucet had been turned on behind her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. Tell me about her. Everything. Every memory you’ve got. I want to hear them all.”

She blinked up at him. “You want to hear about my mom?”

“Yeah, love. I want to know everything about her. How she smelled, and what your favorite memories of her are. What your life was like when she first brought you home. What she did for a living. What her favorite foods were. You haven’t talked to anyone about her in years. Telling me about her will help you grieve, and remember her.”

And she did. For an hour Felicity talked about her mother. Told Ryder every little thing about the woman who’d taken her in at an age most kids were past all hope of ever getting adopted. She cried. A lot. But she also laughed at some of the sillier stories she shared. When she was done, she looked up at Ryder and said, “Thank you.”