Page 27 of Scorched

A laugh burst from Fabrice. He fingered the lapel of his jacket. “The honorary old man suit. It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

His face hurt. Kirkland didn’t think he had smiled so much in his life. Fabrice took mercy on him and didn’t smear too much cake on his face. Hearing Fabrice laugh made everything worthwhile.

They opened so many presents, he couldn’t keep up. Beau gave them the title, keys, and dock number for a yacht. Kirkland didn’t even know how to react to that one. In fact, everyone gave them such over-the-top gifts that Kirkland didn’t know what to say to anyone. By the time the party wound down, Kirkland was more than ready to get off his feet, and to have Fabrice alone.

“Let’s check on my kitchen before we head to our room.”

Kirkland knew better than to argue. Fabrice wouldn’t be happy until he ensured his beloved kitchen hadn’t been destroyed.

Fabrice put his arm around Kirkland’s waist. Kirkland draped his arm over Fabrice’s shoulders. They leaned into each other as they headed for the kitchen.

The moment they stepped inside, Atticus called out, stopping them. He didn’t look at Kirkland, which sent Kirkland’s alarm bells clanging. “May I speak to you alone before you vanish into honeymoon bliss?”

“Of course.” Fabrice looked Kirkland’s way. “Go on without me. I’ll be right behind you.”

Kirkland kissed him and then did as told, but he didn’t go far. The moment he was closed into the passageway, he stopped and eavesdropped. While he didn’t expect Atticus would do harm to their relationship, he couldn’t rule out Atticus giving Fabrice a warning about not hurting him. Kirkland couldn’t have Fabrice threatened.

“I know this is poor timing, but you’ve been out of town. Kirkland’s birthday is in two weeks.”

Kirkland started to turn away, not wanting to ruin any plans he might have. Then Atticus kept going and froze Kirkland’s feet to the ground. “I recognize fifty-four isn’t considered a milestone birthday, but I’ve never gotten to celebrate him publicly the way he deserves. I’d like to do it right this year.”

When Fabrice responded, there was no missing the confusion in his voice. “Fifty-four? Kirkland turns fifty this year.”

Silence followed Fabrice’s words.

Kirkland pressed the heels of his hands against his eyeballs so hard, he saw stars. A pain sliced through his head. This couldn’t be happening.

“No. He’s turning fifty-four.”

“No, he isn’t. Kirkland is turning fifty. He’s my freaking husband. Do you think I don’t know my husband’s age? I’ve seen his license and birth certificate. He’s forty-nine. He’ll be fifty.”

There wasn’t even a pause. “That can’t be right. He’s been with me since I was three. If he’s only forty-nine, that would’ve made him like fifteen or sixteen when he came to live with us. Why would my dad…”

Kirkland didn’t wait for the truth to hit Atticus. He darted for the bedroom. He had to get out of here. Kirkland couldn’t leave Fabrice. Fuck, he had to get out of here. No way could Kirkland face Atticus. He had too much to hide. Kirkland couldn’t go down that road with Atticus. If he did, Atticus would hate him and, no, he couldn’t handle that. For nearly his entire life, Atticus had been the only family he had. Kirkland had built his life around caring for Atticus like a son. Just no. If he saw Atticus’ love turn to hate, that would be his breaking point. The only thing that had kept him sane over the years was knowing he was the one who had been there for Atti.

Their bags hadn’t been unpacked from their trip. Everything inside was dirty, but he could deal with that later. For now, he didn’t have time to waste. Kirkland didn’t even look back as he walked away from everything. Just another life stolen by Rush from beyond the grave. That bastard had always won in the end.

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.