Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Gideon
I looked out the window and checked the temp on my phone. The weather outside was warmer than the frigid vibes Autumn was giving off. She had gone to work for the day, or so I assumed since she hadn’t said a word to me.
After I’d shut down her admonishments, she’d sat outside for another half hour, and when she’d come inside, she’d gotten ready for bed and read until she shut the lights off.
I had taken the opportunity to catch up on work.
The board was not happy I’d left on such short notice and I had to wonder how many of those anxious texts were fueled by Taya.
I had over five years of diligent service to Silver, along with months of unused vacation. They should know I wouldn’t have left without reason. Many of them had known me when I’d worked for other casinos in the Las Vegas area.
I had mollified them for now. Where was my wife? How upset was she? All she had asked me to do was talk to her.
She’d called me rude.
I’d heard myself described in various ways over the years. Hard. Uncompromising. Too demanding.
Not fucking rude. By a schoolteacher.
I let the blinds go. I went to the fridge and dug out the rest of the leftovers. One slab of ham and a bun was all that was left.
My stomach was waking up and my damn mouth was watering. The plate I’d heated for myself last night after Autumn had retreated to the bedroom had made me want to gobble everything up. There wasn’t enough remaining for another meal.
I’d seen Autumn packing some in an insulated bag with horses on it this morning. No one in Silver would be caught packing a lunch bag with horses on it for work. She’d probably left me scraps to make a point. She could be rude too. I ate the remnants.
I sat at the kitchen table and worked for a few hours, answering emails and conducting one phone meeting. For my dinner, I found a freezer full of beef besides the ice cream. I made eggs instead. Autumn had plenty of veggies around to make a decent omelet.
The groan that left my mouth when I tasted the farm-fresh eggs was shameful. I sounded like I was getting my dick sucked, which wasn’t going to happen after the way Autumn had shut down on me last night.
I scrubbed the dishes with more force than necessary. It didn’t matter if she kept her distance. It didn’t. Getting her pregnant in a month wouldn’t be enough time to change Dad’s mind. I just needed him to buy that we’d have kids in the near future.
But that wasn’t part of the deal.
A bead of sweat broke out on my forehead.
I abandoned the dishes in the drying rack and went back to work. I stayed at the computer until my shoulders ached and my back protested. I missed my ergonomic chair.
When I glanced at the time, I did a double take. It was after six?
Outside, the sun was dipping toward the horizon.
Where was my wife? School had let out hours ago.
When I peered outside, Deon rode by. He glanced at the house and waved at me. It took me a moment to remember I should wave back. These windows weren’t one-way glass, and I wasn’t high above the city.
He sped off after I returned his greeting.
Where the hell was my wife?
My stomach growled again. She’d only packed a lunch. What was she eating for dinner? Who was she eating with?
I went to grab my keys to leave, but damn. No keys. No car. I hadn’t even considered that when she’d left. If she’d thought of it, she’d left me hanging.
Because you deserved it.
Deep down, I knew that wasn’t her. She might’ve absconded with the food I didn’t deserve after my abrupt departure, but she wouldn’t leave me stranded intentionally.
I found my athletic shoes that I usually reserved for the gym and changed into jeans and a gray Silver hoodie gifted by the marketing department that I’d only worn once in the years I’d had it.
Then I left the house and locked her door.
A simple knob lock wouldn’t stop a soul, but I couldn’t flip a dead bolt without a key.
I couldn’t wave a card and have it lock either.
Keep the windows and door open, Giddy. I love the fresh air. I shook off Mom’s voice, clearer now that I was in Montana, and set out for the school.
I navigated the town like I’d never left. Cars passed and people gawked, but I didn’t pay attention.
When I reached the flat, one-level brick school, the doors were locked. “Goddammit.” I could see classroom lights on. What the hell should I do? Knock on a window?
A couple of women were coming toward the door, chatting with each other.
When they spotted me, they stopped and stared.
I gestured to the door, not used to having to ask for permission for entry.
I could go anywhere and everywhere in a casino that employed more people than lived in the city limits of Bourbon Canyon.
Finally, the woman with long, black hair pulled into a high ponytail opened the door a few inches. “Gideon?”
“Yes?” I didn’t recognize her. I had to be almost twice her age.
Her face lit up in a zealous way that had me taking a step back.
Her companion’s mouth fell open. “You’re Autumn’s—” A high-pitched squeal left her. “Oh my god. I can’t believe you two— I mean, it’s just . . .” They stared at me some more.
These must be two of the women who’d ditched my wife outside the club. “And you two left her alone in a giant city?”
Their expressions fell at once and their guilt was identical.
“I really didn’t think they’d leave her outside the whole night,” the one with black hair said.
“She seemed like she wanted to go to the room from her texts,” the other said. “I should’ve seen through them.”
“Yes. You should’ve.”
They exchanged a look that shared blame but also What’s with this guy?
The first woman flipped her dark ponytail over her shoulder. “She’s in the gym helping with the set for the program on Thursday.”
Right. She’d mentioned evening work obligations to Dad. I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama. I could take a month off and work from home. Autumn’s work was different.
“Thanks,” I forced myself to say as I maneuvered around them.
“The gymnasium’s on the left,” one of them called after me, “then a right at the end of the hall.”
I didn’t bother telling them I’d gone to school here.
I felt like a giant walking past lines of coat hooks that were at chest level and cubbies that hardly reached my shoulders. I didn’t bother to look inside the classrooms.
I passed one room and pictured my mom, her hair as dark as the other woman’s, talking to a teacher of mine and smiling at me during parent-teacher conferences.
When I got to the juncture where I turned right, I caught sight of the library on my left.
It had been remodeled, but I could still remember towing my parents inside for the book fair.
My parents. Another memory of Dad had snuck in. I hadn’t had many before Mom died, but they were hitting me at the oddest moments.
Like entering the gymnasium and seeing the big stage at the end, the red curtains were open. I recalled standing in the middle, in the back row because I was a tall kid, and looking out to see Mom and Dad smiling at me.
I had been in middle school when Mom died. My chest grew tight. This building held nothing but good memories. The unwanted memories. Because they showed me how far Dad fell after that.
I swallowed the acid eating up my throat. Autumn circled a set of risers with two other people, a woman and a guy who looked to be over fifty. Was that fucking Mark?
Autumn’s hair was now back in a ponytail, her shiny, coppery strands reflecting the overhead lights. She wore the same clothing as this morning—a long striped top that was belted at the waist, brown leggings, and knee-high boots.
She glanced over and her eyes widened. “Gideon? What are you doing here?”
The other two stopped to stare at me like the first two women had.
The guy took a step forward. “Gideon James!” His laugh boomed across the gymnasium. Good acoustics. “I bet you don’t remember me.”
So . . . not Mark.
He looked like any other suburban dad who came to Vegas with his family for vacation.
“You guess correctly.” I walked toward the stage.
The other woman’s gaze was dancing between me and my stunned wife.
Only the man smiled. “I was the student teacher when you were in fifth grade. Mr. Ellison?”
I peered at him. Years of dust flaked off my memories, and yeah, I did remember a young guy helping my teacher that year. “You loved to play football at recess with the rest of us.”
“Heck yeah!” Joy danced across his face.
He truly loved being recognized as my teacher.
He held an arm out to the other woman. “This is my wife, Kerry. She’s the music teacher here.
Kerry, as you heard, Gideon was one of my first students.
” He looked at me. “I thought you were going to be the arm that helped us get to state, but you never played.”
The same excuse slipped out of my mouth that had decades ago. “The ranch needed me.”
He waved it off. I used to get pitying looks back then. People knew the story of my mom and my dad and knew why the ranch needed me.
“Eh, I realize now that’s a common story around here. Congrats on the wedding—uh, marriage.” He flashed an awkward smile. “It’s going to take some time to get used to changing from Miss K to Mrs. J.”
I dipped my head, unsure what to say when I was feeling like a goddamn fraud around people who sincerely wanted to wish us well.
“You here to help?” he asked.
I glanced at Autumn. She’d been watching the exchange, curiosity in her eyes. Now, there was challenge.
“You need a hand?” I aimed my question at her. Why hadn’t she asked me earlier? Or at all?
“The kids wanted to do a Halloween-themed music program, but the school doesn’t have much for decorations. We bought some, but they don’t work with the high ceilings. No one can see them, even if we can get them up there in the first place.”
“The janitor found some old plywood and gave us her toolbox,” Mr. Ellison said.