The Complete Captive Heart Duet: Lost and Found

by Aarons, Carrie

  And with that, I turn on my heel and march out Hunter Landon’s mansion.

  Chapter 29

  Tucker

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Charlotte that mad in my entire life. And there have been times where she’s been pissed at me. But this is different.

  She is livid. The color of her skin, a raging red, matches her mood. The way she grit out her words through her teeth.

  The fact that she just slapped the shit out that asshole.

  It only takes me a split second to decide to run after her instead of kicking this guy’s ass. It would only get me in trouble, and my wife is more important than these rich pricks anyway.

  “Char! Char! Wait!” I run out onto the immaculately paved driveway as she’s thrusting her receipt at the valet.

  “Baby, Jesus, what the fuck? That was … fucking hot. You didn’t have to do that.” I grab her by the shoulders and swing her to face me.

  And see the trail of tears dripping from her eyes.

  “He’s such a fucking asshole. Such a fucking asshole. Not just about you, but to say those things about me? In front of my coworkers?! It’s not my fault Hunter values me! I work fucking hard!”

  She’s rambling, screaming anything that comes into her mind at my face. I pull her into my chest and rub her back.

  “I know you do, baby. Whoever that guy is, he’s fucking jealous.”

  The valet pulls up with our car and I half-carry Char to the passenger seat. There is no way she can drive like this.

  “Do I need to call Jackie?” I try to hold her hand but she just looks out the window and cries harder.

  “No! I just want to get out of here! I’m so embarrassed!”

  I sit there a moment, not starting the car.

  “JUST GO!” Char is a wreck, inconsolable and irrational.

  I slam the car into drive and peel out of there, worried that she might get out of the car and start running if I stayed any longer.

  “Honey, it wasn’t that bad. The thing he was saying …”

  I remember what he said about her. About her with me. My heart burns with shame and I suddenly feel like I might puke my guts out. I was hesitant about coming tonight for that very reason. But it had all gone so smoothly. I’d finally felt good about myself, worthy of being in Char’s world again. I should have fucking known the other shoe was bound to drop.

  And what he’d said was true. I was a convict. A felon. I had kidnapped my wife.

  “Hunter probably thinks we’re such trash. God, I can’t believe that happened. Everyone is going to think I’m a piece of shit.”

  She’s blubbering to herself, and I reach over the squeeze her thigh. Her skin distracts me, the warmth of it seeping into my palm where her yellow dress has ridden up. I hate to see her cry. My beautiful, strong woman … I want to rip out that guy, Brian’s, throat. I have to fight the urge to turn the car around and swallow my rage. This is about Charlotte.

  “Baby, no one thinks that. You reacted to a heinous moment. You’re human. Everyone makes mistakes, but your actions were totally justified.”

  She runs her hands through her long brown hair and slams her skull back against the headrest. “I’m going to get fired.”

  “No you won’t!”

  She turns to me, her voice raising a couple octaves. “Yes I will! I just assaulted another employee of my company, in the presence of all of my colleagues. In front of my boss! At a company function at his house! I’m fucking toast!”

  Her words sink into my skin like ice water, and I know for the first time tonight that she’s right.

  But she’s wrong about one thing. This isn’t her fault at all. It’s mine.

  Squarely and unequivocally mine.

  Because she wouldn’t have even been in that conversation with Hunter if it hadn’t been for me. Wouldn’t have even touched on that topic. There would be no snotty coworkers or tension around her if it wasn’t for me. No one would have singled her out, if it hadn’t been for the fact that her husband is a convicted felon. That I’ve been to prison.

  And this is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. Where my dirty past and actions sully her future. Where being associated with me ruins her world, shames her. Where the mere connection we have crushes her perfect, content life.

  I drive the rest of the way back to our condo in silence while Char silently weeps in the passenger seat. By the time we make it home, she’s cried herself to sleep.

  I left her from the car, and she nuzzles into my neck. Even like this, I can feel my poisonous ties wrapping around her, and I can’t wait to get her out of my arms. She’s exhausted, her sleeping almost coma-like. Undressing her, I put her to bed, making sure to tuck her in tight.

  And then I set to packing a bag. Because I can’t stay here. I won’t continue to hurt her, to jeopardize her life and success and happiness by tying her to my sinking ship. And this was just the first incident. Sure, her mother is an ice queen, but I’m also the reason no one in her entire family speaks to her anymore.

  So I guess this was the second incident. And there only going to be more. What happens when we have children? What will the nurses and doctors say when they see our names? What will the parents of our children’s classmates say when I go to pick our kids up from school? Will Char be okay when I can’t go on vacations with her for the next five years? With my parole, she’s stuck in Pennsylvania.

  This will happen over and over and over again. And I’m not going to stick around and bring her life crumbling down around her. She’ll hate me for leaving her, but maybe that’s good. It will fuel her to move on.

  My small duffel is packed, I’ll only need the essentials where I’m going. And now it’s time to go.

  Char is breathing softly through her mouth, the moonlight sending streaks through her chestnut hair fanned out all over the pillow. She looks like an angel, all of that porcelain skin glowing just for me. It’s shredding my heart to leave her, to hurt her. I feel it like an anchor in my chest, trying to weigh me down and stay right here with her. But I can’t. Not for her sake.

  I bend down and lay a featherlight kiss on her lips, letting my mouth linger there for just a minute.

  And then I walk out of our house. Her house now.

  Out of her life.

  Chapter 30

  Charlotte

  The sound of a lawnmower beneath my window jerks me awake. It’s one of those weekend wake-ups that isn’t good, isn’t peaceful and cozy and will surely ruin your mood for the rest of the day.

  For one thing, it’s loud. I don’t awaken to the sound of birds chirping and sunlight streaming in. Sometime during the night I threw my comforter off, so now my feet are frigid instead of toasty warm. My eyes feel heavy and puffy, and then I remember how many tears I spilled last night. My mouth is sour and dry from the crying jags I put myself through.

  All in all, it’s a sucky wake-up. And to make it worse, Tucker’s side of the bed is empty. I can’t even roll over onto his hunk of man meat and scrub away my bad mood using his muscles.

  “Tuck?” I call out, expecting his voice to float up to me from downstairs.

  He’s probably down there making coffee and a bagel. Once he’s up, so is his stomach. That man’s appetite waits for no one. Not even his wife.

  But I get nothing. Which makes me even crankier.

  Last night royally sucked. It was beautiful, a shining moment that burnt out way too soon. And all because of Brian Fucking Lockwood. He had to go and run his mouth. But I could have also controlled my reaction. I fed in to exactly what he wanted. And now, I was likely going to lose my job.

  Where the heck was Tucker? I really needed him and his abs right about now to cheer me up.

  “Tucker? Where are you?” I call out into the house.

  Nothing. What the heck?

  I get up, pulling on the nightgown I’d discarded on the bench at the end of our bed two nights prior. Pulling it over my head, I listen for any type of noise in the house. But all I�
�m greeted by is silence.

  After checking both bathrooms upstairs, and finding no Tucker in sight, I head downstairs.

  Nope, he’s not in the living room. Or the basement. And I can’t see him in the kitchen as I peer through the open-concept arches and dividers connecting our first floor.

  I check out front, peeking through the blinds. My Jeep is sitting in front of our house, but Tucker’s beige pickup truck is not across the street in it’s usual spot.

  Maybe he went out to get breakfast? He usually texted me to let me know that if I was still sleeping. But maybe he just forgot.

  I head to the kitchen to grab a granola bar until he gets back, because my stomach is rumbling. Too much white wine and not enough of the tasty ribs and wings last night.

  I’m crossing to the fridge to grab some orange juice when I see it. The tiny folded note with my name on the front sitting on the counter next to the fridge.

  Suspicion creeps into my blood like venom, and I can feel my body preparing itself for something. Something that makes the hair on the back of my stand on edge and my teeth grind together.

  Tucker’s illegible handwriting hits me square in the face as I open the folded piece of paper.

  Char,

  I’m so sorry. I hope one day that you will understand. I only want you to find the happiness I have since I’ve been with you. But while I’m here, you’ll never find that. I will love you forever.

  Tucker

  I should have a reaction. A scream, sobs. A kick or a punch to an inanimate object in the kitchen.

  But … I can’t feel a thing.

  I sink to the cool hardwood, my tailbone making harsh contact with the floor. But I don’t even feel it. My entire body is numb, all of my feelings and expressions and reactions are gone.

  Gone with Tucker. Out of the door, out of my life. Nowhere to be found.

  The note still lays in the palm of my hand, and it may as well be slicing me up. That’s how much it’s presence, and Tucker’s absence, is killing me.

  I know why he’s gone. He thinks that last night is his fault. Of that I’m sure. He think that because Brian Fucking Lockwood ran his big mouth in front of the party, and because I slapped him, that it’s somehow his fault.

  I should have reassured him, should have told him that he wasn’t ruining my life or something. But I was too wrapped up in my self-pity, wallowing because I could very possibly get fired.

  I must sit on the kitchen floor for hours, just staring off into space, because suddenly it’s dark out and I’m still in this ratty nightgown.

  And I still feel nothing. So I drag myself to bed. Where I don’t cry. And don’t sleep.

  I just wait for the sun to rise on Monday. And hope against hope that when it does, Tucker will be back.

  Chapter 31

  Charlotte

  “And in this corner, weighing in at 100 pounds soaking wet, is Charlotte ‘The Beast’ Morsey!”

  Jackie pumps her fist and jogs around my desk, chanting like she’s Rocky or something.

  “Will you quiet down? I’m trying to work here.” I scowl at her, annoyed that someone outside might here.

  “Jeez, ya crab. Lighten up. Landon fired Brian and you’re in the clear. It’s totally fine. You’re still kickass at your job, everyone here loves you and is behind you, you have the best friend in the world …”

  “And my husband left me.”

  I bury my head in my hands, the tears coming freely now. It’s been two days and Tucker being gone still hasn’t sunk in. I’ve tried to throw myself into work, staying at the office until all hours of the night. Not only to prove to Hunter that I love my job, after our talk about etiquette he let me go with a slap on the wrist, but to avoid going home to our empty condo. To our empty bed.

  “He still hasn’t called?”

  Jackie squats down next to me and wraps her arms around my shoulders. If anyone walks buy, they’ll know something is up. And I don’t plan on telling anyone at work about this. Ever.

  I shake her off and sniffle. “No. His phone is off, or disconnected, I can’t tell yet. No email, no letter, no carrier pigeon. No nothing.”

  “I just don’t understand why he would do this. He loves you. I can see it and I don’t even know how to translate his caveman attitude most of the time.”

  Her comment makes me smile. “I love that caveman attitude.”

  And then my smile fades. Because Tucker is gone.

  “I don’t know what to do. I love him, Jackie. I went so long without him, and now to know that he left, and he thinks that’s what’s best for me? God, I just, I don’t know …”

  I collapse onto my desk again, too exhausted to do this for another day.

  “So go tell him that.”

  I look up to a shrugging Jackie.

  “I would love to. But oh hey, I can’t because he’s gone! Have you not heard anything I’ve said in the last twenty minutes?”

  Jackie throws her blonde curls over her shoulder.

  “Has he ever done this before?”

  I think about it. “Well, no. He’s been with me ever since he got out.”

  Jackie lifts up onto the stilettos of her heels, walking on them and looking like a clown. “Well, what about when he was in prison? Did you guys ever fight?”

  Her words tumble around in my brain, and I think back to the way Tucker retreated after Christmas.

  “There was this one time. A couple months before he got out. He told me he was no good for me.”

  I hadn’t believed him then, either. He’d tried to tell me to move on, to find my own life without him.

  How could I ever do that when he was such an integral part of me?

  Chapter 32

  Charlotte

  Five Months Ago

  He wouldn’t see me again today. I drove an hour and a half each way just to be shut out and told I wasn’t on the visitation list.

  I don’t know what’s more crushing. Having the other prison wives look at you with sympathy in their eyes, or have your husband have another man, also known as the prison guards, tell you he doesn’t want to see you anymore.

  Because yeah, he didn’t even tell me himself. He’s just shut me out for the past two weeks. Won’t see me, won’t call me. I’ve written letters it’s gotten so bad, and we’ve barely done that in the two years he’s been locked up. Apparently, even snail mail is too slow for some inmates these days.

  But today, I’m going to call. And call. I’m going to try to get through to him so that he has to talk to me. I’ll reach out to the guard I know he’s friendly with.

  It started after Christmas. Tucker slowly began retreating. Calling less times a day, wanting to visit with me less hours on the weekend. At first I thought he was just adjusting to getting out soon. Or maybe he was just having a moody month. But now … this.

  If he was going to end our marriage, if he didn’t want me anymore, he could at least have the decency to tell me himself.

  I text the guard, Derek, that I know he’s friendly with. According to state laws, I shouldn’t have Derek’s cellphone number. I shouldn’t even know Derek’s name.

  But prison is corrupt, and that corruption goes all the way up to the top and out to every single branch. There isn’t many people in the system that you can’t buy, for the right price. Derek’s price? His wife loves a certain type of expensive perfume.

  A perfume whose company I just happened to do a successful campaign for a year ago, and have worked with ever since.

  Derek responds ten minutes later, telling me to expect a call in half an hour. I wonder what he had to say, or most likely do, to get Tucker to agree to a phone call. I hope he isn’t hurt or in trouble, but part of me doesn’t really care.

  I’m sitting on one of the long grey couches in my living room with my cellphone in hand ten minutes later, waiting. I’ll wait all damn night if it takes him that long.

  Fifteen minutes later, the screen lights up and swipe to connect the call.

/>   “This call is from an inmate at the State Correctional Institution at Mahoney. Press one to accept.”

  I hit the button with fervor.

  “Tucker?” My voice is frantic and I realize I’m more on edge than I thought I was. This could be the conversation where my husband asks me to end our marriage.

  A failed engagement and now a failed marriage. And Tucker is the only man I’ve ever truly loved. I don’t know what I’ll do without him …

  “Hi, Char.” His deep voice sounds tired and strained.

  “Oh god, I didn’t think you were actually going to call.” My feet are shaking so hard that I almost knock over the glass of water I put on the coffee table.

  “Well, when Derek threatened to take away my meals for three days, I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

  So he could only call his wife when the thought of his food disappearing became dire enough? I tamp down the anger that rears its ugly head and try to talk to him calmly. Hurt and upset won’t get us anywhere.

  “Why won’t you let me come see you? Why haven’t you called?”

  There is a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “Char, you should just move on.”

  My heart sinks and I can feel the bile rising in my throat. “Move on? Tucker, stop this. Seriously. Why are you being like this?”

  “Come on, Char. You’ve stuck by me as long as you could, and it’s admirable. It really is. But you can call it a day now. I’m just some washed up piece of shit convict, and I’ll be the same thing when I get out of here. You … you have a whole life and this bright future ahead of you. You’re great at your job, you have Jackie now, you’re so beautiful. Another guy would be so lucky to have you even look his way. And that’s what you should do. Find someone who is worthy of you.”

  I’m sobbing by his last word. Not only because he’s trying to break up our marriage, but because he thinks so little of himself.