Chapter Twelve
Side by side, Atticus and Fabrice stood in the middle of the room Fabrice shared with Kirkland.
They didn’t speak. Shock had stolen his voice.
He was gone. Their suitcases were missing, and he was just fucking gone.
Jett hadn’t left yet, so it had taken less than ten minutes for the entire household to learn Kirkland had skipped out.
Fabrice knew when the shock wore off, he would be crushed.
“He’s not answering me.”
Atticus’ angry-sounding words cut through the haze coating Fabrice’s mind. He focused on Atticus. Everything around him seemed out of focus, as if he watched through someone else’s eyes. Nothing felt real.
Atticus focused on him. “Why? I don’t understand. Just why?” He paced away and ran his hands through his hair before pacing back. “You call him. Maybe he’ll answer you.”
Tracker spoke up, making Fabrice jump. He hadn’t even known people had crowded into his room. He had thought they were in the hall. “Wait. Let me grab my laptop.”
Atticus snapped his fingers and pointed at Tracker. “Good idea. Between the two of us, we can have his location in no time. If his phone is still on, we can find him.”
Atticus and Tracker stormed out of the room.
Fabrice sat. He was glad the couch caught him because his knees had simply given out. Fabrice stared at his phone. He was so broken, Fabrice didn’t know if he could speak English if he opened his mouth. Instead, Fabrice opened his texts and found Kirkland’s name. He typed, unsure if he made sense.
Fabrice: Where did you go, baby?
He waited and wondered why his text sounded so calm and sweet. Maybe that was how he felt. He wouldn’t know. To his surprise, dots appeared, and Fabrice held his breath. He didn’t let anyone know.
Kirkland: I’m so sorry, baby. When I get where I’m going, I’ll call you.
Right now, I’m just driving around aimlessly.
Don’t worry. I’m not texting and driving.
I’m sending this through Siri. Goddamn. You have no idea how fucking sorry I am.
I overheard your conversation with Atti.
This has nothing to do with us. Please forgive me.
Meet me somewhere. We can disappear together.
I can’t face him. You don’t understand. You don’t know him the way I do.
He won’t forgive me. I can’t witness that. I just can’t.
Fabrice kept staring at the text, reading the message over and over.
He couldn’t breathe. The other half of his soul was out there, hurting over something that wasn’t his fault.
Fabrice didn’t know how to fix this. He just wanted to hold Kirkland, run his fingers through his hair, and tell him everything would be all right.
The phone disappeared from his hands.
Fabrice didn’t even lift his head. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks.
He didn’t wipe them away. Marrying Kirkland had been like being reborn in a way.
This marriage, Kirkland, gave him life. A family he needed.
Nothing in his entire life had made him as happy as Kirkland.
Where was he supposed to go with all this?
“What does he think I won’t forgive? My father was an evil bastard. Everyone knew it. Hell, my mom killed herself to get away from him.”
“I’m sorry.”
Every head turned his way. Fabrice still didn’t think to wipe his face. He felt nothing or too much, and he couldn’t figure out which.
“Why are you sorry?” Atticus didn’t sound angry. There was that.
“I didn’t know you didn’t know.”
Atticus threw his hands up. Tracker’s fingers flew over the keys.
Atticus sat next to Fabrice. He gave Fabrice his phone back and then took his hand. He looked oddly caring for such an energetic scoundrel. “What exactly didn’t I know?”
Fabrice looked around. Everyone stared at them.
Atticus stood, pulling Fabrice up behind him. “Give us a second, guys.” He urged Fabrice into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Atticus leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest.
Fabrice’s gaze dropped to the way Atticus clearly protected his heart.
Atticus dropped his arms, as if he read Fabrice’s mind.
He didn’t know if he could hold Atticus's stare and give away his husband’s secrets, but he tried.
Some secrets did more damage in the dark.
“Your mom didn’t take her own life to get away from Rush.
Well, maybe she did in a way. That’s not how Kirkland sees it.
She killed herself the night she caught him fucking Kirkland.
” Fabrice rushed to give his opinion before Atticus could respond.
“You have to know none of this is actually Kirkland’s fault.
Your dad preyed on a teenager. Groomed him to be his secret whore when he wasn’t out spreading himself around for everyone else.
There was no love. Kirkland was a victim, but he can’t see it that way.
He let it go on for too long. He was scared what would happen to you if he didn’t cooperate.
When your dad hired him, Kirkland just saw an extremely wealthy man giving him an opportunity he might never get again.
But he loves you every bit as much as he would a real son.
Hell, he raised you and, to him, you are his son.
He can’t take you seeing him differently or hating him because of what happened to your mom.
Kirkland has punished himself for nearly his entire life.
The whole old man routine was more of a penance than staying safe.
He’s broken and never got the help he needs.
” Fabrice’s hands rose and fell. He didn’t know how to convince Atticus not to hate Kirkland.
But the truth was out there now, and there was no containing the fallout.
One thing had happened throughout Fabrice’s speech.
He had talked himself right into forgiving Kirkland, and he knew—wherever Kirkland landed—Fabrice would meet him there.
He belonged at Kirkland’s side. That was all there was to it.
A knock sounded, making Atticus jerk as if he had been lost in his head.
“I’ve got him. Wheels up in fifteen.”
For a moment, they held each other’s stare before Atticus left him alone. Fabrice sat on the edge of the bed and did the only thing he could.
Fabrice: I love you, sexy old man. Wherever you go, I’ll be there. Don’t even worry about that. You’re my other half. My soulmate. Nothing can change that. I’ll see you soon.
The stars were a mixture of yellow, white and pale blue.
Kirkland held his phone and tried to clear his head.
There was nowhere he could go where Atticus couldn’t eventually find him.
He still had Fabrice. Kirkland would focus on that.
What had he expected anyhow? Maybe he had just gotten away with the game for so long that he had forgotten his life was a lie.
He just became the age he told people and dropped the past. But Kirkland hadn’t expected Fabrice, and he had been incapable of telling him a lie.
Fabrice had asked his age dozens of times.
Kirkland had always dodged. He was good at that.
The night he had finally told the truth, he felt free.
When he was with Fabrice, he was home. He was safe.
They existed in the bubble they had created.
With Fabrice, he could unburden himself.
He got to say all the terrible things he had been through.
Kirkland could confess the anger and guilt, and Fabrice hadn’t once judged him for the past. Kirkland couldn’t begin to describe the peace Fabrice gave him.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
He also gave Kirkland endless love and passion.
Fabrice was the only heaven he would ever see.
Now that the panic had subsided, Kirkland wondered what he gave Fabrice.
He was pretty sure the answer was nothing.
Fabrice deserved better than him, but he wasn’t strong enough to lose him.
A flash of green light had Kirkland’s gaze moving from the sky to the nearby tree line.
He had found a secluded spot and simply sat down.
Now he was a little more aware of his surroundings.
He was pretty certain he should move along.
Still, he couldn’t stop straining his eyes, fully absorbed by whatever had caught his attention.
He didn’t think he had been seeing things.
Kirkland was too focused on peering between the trees to recognize the danger.
In a flash, he found himself surrounded by a sea of terrifying LED masks with various facial expressions.
Even though it only took him a second to realize it was the Agafonov brothers, that didn’t comfort him.
A bag was thrown over his head, and he was lifted to his feet.
Kirkland didn’t beg. He wouldn’t. Honestly, he was surprised that he had lived this long.
He had been certain Rush’s brother, Butch, would get him first in his bid to get rid of Atticus.
Now Butch was gone, it would be the man he considered his son.
Fair, he supposed. His body felt heavy. He didn’t fight.
His heart broke at the thought of Fabrice.
Hopefully, they put his body somewhere his baby wouldn’t see.
Part of the Bosi household or not, Fabrice was too soft for the murder side of things.
He was more sheltered by Beau than Kirkland suspected he knew.
Kirkland had been in the thick of the murder game for too many years to count.
Keeping Atticus safe had been a much bigger job than even Atticus knew.
He had always done what needed to be done.
Car doors slammed shut. The movement of the vehicle made him feel sick with his face covered. Of course, the nausea might have been from heading toward death. Atticus might love Kirkland, but his mom had been irreplaceable. Kirkland had stolen her from him. Everything came with a price.