Just One Kiss (Fool's Gold #10)(65)

“It scares me,” she murmured.

She thought he might ask for clarification, but instead he squeezed her hand.

“I’m nearly done with them. I’m going to be here, opening the academy.”

“Is that going to be enough? You won’t crave the excitement?”

“I’m ready for a change.”

“This is a small town. Are you sure it’s what you want? Maybe you’d be happier in the big city.”

He smiled. “Do you really call other places ‘the big city’?”

She grinned. “Of course, but we always use a condescending tone when we say it.” Her humor faded as she realized he hadn’t answered the question. “You’re not a kid anymore. You can’t be anonymous in a place like this. Everyone knows everything about you. You’ll be expected to get involved. To show up at events and not almost bleed to death.”

“Trying to scare me away?”

“I want you to be sure before you get in any deeper...with the town.”

She didn’t want him to make promises he couldn’t or wouldn’t keep. Because sometime between Felicia showing up and the second he’d collapsed in front of her store, she’d accepted that she was in love with Justice. It wasn’t smart and she wasn’t sure it was going to end well, but she’d given away her heart.

“I came back, Patience.”

“What if that’s not enough? Where did you go and why did you get shot? Who is in your past? What have you done and is it going to be okay now?”

“All good questions,” he told her. “This probably isn’t the time to get into them.”

She glanced at the cat-shaped clock on the nightstand. “You’re right. I’m going to be late.”

He squeezed her fingers, then released her. “We’ll talk,” he said. “I’ll answer all your questions.”

“Okay.” She rose and put the chair back by the desk, then crossed to the bed and kissed him. “Go back to sleep.”

“I will.”

For a second she stared into his dark blue eyes and told herself everything was going to be fine. They would talk and she would find out everything she needed to know. But would the answers make things better, or make things worse? Because finding out the truth wasn’t always happy news.

* * *

ABOUT SEVEN-thirty that morning, Justice woke to the sound of running footsteps on the stairs. He’d barely had time to remember where he was when Lillie burst into his room.

“It’s okay,” she yelled back down the stairs. “He’s awake.” She smiled at him. “Grandma said not to bother you, but I said you wouldn’t mind. Are you still hurt?”

“A little, but it’s better than it was.”

She studied him from the door, as if not sure if she should come in or not. He waved her closer.

She stepped into the room. “Do you like my stuffed animals? I’m getting too old for them, but sometimes they’re nice company.”

“I’m enjoying them. Thanks for sharing.”

“You’re welcome.”

She was so like her mother, he thought. There were the odd bits that had to have come from her father, but mostly she was Patience’s daughter.

Lillie moved to the side of the bed and lowered her voice. “I’m not supposed to know you were shot, but I heard at my friend’s last night. Her mom was talking. Were there bad guys? Like on TV?”

In her world there were still good guys and bad guys, he thought. Where he had gone, there were only shades of gray. The rich oilman who had traveled to a part of Africa where the rules didn’t apply. There’d been an ambush and a shoot-out. He knew who had won, but in the scenario he’d just survived, he couldn’t say who was good and who was bad.

“We were attacked,” he said instead.

“Were you scared?”

“Not when it happened. I didn’t have time. But later, my heart was beating fast.”

She tilted her head. “It hurts, huh? Getting shot?”

“It hurts.”

Ava called for her granddaughter.

“I’m sorry, I have to go eat breakfast,” Lillie said. “I’ll see you after school.”

“Sounds good.”

She clattered down the stairs as quickly as she’d run up. About a half hour later, he heard her leaving the house. A few minutes later, someone else started up toward his room. Felicia walked in, a tray in her hands.

“Morning,” she said as she approached. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was shot.”

“That’s not good.” She set his breakfast on the dresser, then walked to the bed. “Can you sit up?”

“Yes, and don’t help me.”

She ignored his instructions and held out her arm so he could use it to pull himself upright. When he was leaning forward, she shoved all the pillows behind his back.

“I’d forgotten how crabby you get when you don’t feel well,” she said cheerfully.

“Sorry. I don’t mean to be.”

“You don’t enjoy any physical manifestation of what you would view as weakness,” she said, placing the tray in front of him. “Nor do you like the reminder that you’re not in charge of every aspect of your life.”