“She’s right,” he mumbled, “it doesn’t make any sense at all.”
The jet’s engine was a steady, throaty roar of background noise that seemed to rumble through his brain, which was jostling already chaotic thoughts. On the way to Sicily at last, Colt realized that normally, he’d have a map of the area spread out in front of him. He’d be laying out his plans for the trip—feeling that rush of anticipation that had been his near-constant companion for the last ten years. Today, though, there was nothing.
Just the solitude inside the jet and his own misery. He couldn’t bring himself to care about Mount Etna or the challenge of skiing down the wicked slopes of a very active volcano. Instead, he could only wonder what Penny and the twins were doing. Had she gone back to the doctor? Had Reid started talking? Was Riley crawling through every mud puddle in the backyard?
Did they miss him?
Colt sprawled on one of the gray leather couches and stared out the window. Travel time was long, going from Orange County, California, to Italy. First to New York, then refuel and on to Sicily. From the airport in Catania, he’d take a helicopter to Mount Etna and do what he’d come to do: ski down the sharp face of a volcano on the verge of eruption. His gaze fixed on the clouds that lay stretched out like a path across the sky. Far below was Italy, a blur of green and brown. He hardly noticed the view, though.
Instead, he was seeing Penny’s face. Hearing her voice asking him why he was chasing death. Saying that his mother had no doubt been grateful that he wasn’t on the mountain on that fateful day. And though it had pissed him off then, he’d had time enough to think about it now and reluctantly he had to admit that Penny was right. If it had been him, caught by an avalanche, in those last few minutes, he would have been grateful that his kids would still live on. That Penny was safe.
You’ve forgotten how to live.
He scrubbed one hand across his face, but the action did nothing to wipe away the echoes of her voice or the image of her face. Was she right about that, too? Had he been trying to die to make it up to his parents for failing them? He squirmed uncomfortably. Sounded so damned stupid. So...pointless.
By spending so much time running from life, he’d been pretty much dead already, hadn’t he?
Jumping to his feet, Colt paced up and down the length of the private jet. Having the luxury of a plane to himself was something he usually enjoyed. Today, not so much. Being alone made it impossible to avoid all of the conflicting thoughts crashing in his mind. He’d been running for so long that the thought of...standing still was almost unthinkable. But what had running gotten him?
He stopped in front of the wet bar, poured a generous splash of scotch into a crystal tumbler and drained it like medicine. Liquid fire rushed through his system, momentarily chasing away the chill icing his bones. Maybe he’d been coming at this all wrong from the beginning. Maybe he’d wasted ten years of his life chasing risk, and he’d never even noticed that he wasn’t running toward anything. Instead he was running away from the greatest risk of all.
Love.
Risking death was nothing, he told himself. Risking a life with someone was the real step that took courage. And while he held himself back, Penny took that chance. She was strong in spite of what she’d gone through when she was a kid. How could he be less?
Slamming the glass down onto the bar top, he stalked to the closest window and looked down on the world below. In his mind, the image of Mount Etna rose up, snowy peaks, smoking calderas. Then right beside that image was the memory of Penny’s eyes when he was inside her. The warmth, the love, the promise of everything shining in those green depths.
Life? Or death?
No contest, he realized with a jolt. He didn’t need a damn volcano to challenge him. Living with a woman as strong as Penny was going to be the real adventure. If, he thought, he could convince her to let him prove himself to her. To let him back into her life. Their kids’ lives. But he couldn’t very well do that from Sicily, could he?
He strode to the cockpit and opened the door.
The copilot turned in his seat and smiled.
Colt ignored the friendly gesture. “Where exactly are we?”
“We’ll be landing at Catania, Sicily, in about an hour.”
“Right.” Colt nodded and for the first time in ten long years, listened to his heart. He knew what he had to do. Knew what he wanted to do. Decision made, he said, “When we land, refuel as quickly as you can. We’re going back.”
* * *
After the longest plane ride of his life, Colt stormed into King’s Extreme Adventures and walked into his twin’s office without bothering to knock.
“I thought you were in Sicily.” Con sat back in his desk chair, a surprised expression on his face.
“Yeah, change of plans,” Colt said and paced to the wide window that overlooked the ocean. “Tell me something. You’ve always said that mom and dad’s accident wasn’t my fault. Did you mean it?”
“Of course I meant it.” Con’s voice was sharp and sure. “What’s this about?”
Down below, at street level, waves rushed toward shore, cars lined the Pacific Coast Highway and pedestrians wandered up and down crowded sidewalks.
“Penny.” Colt shook his head and rubbed his eyes. His twin, his brothers and his cousins had all tried to reach him over the years. Tried to make him see that accidents happen and no matter how hideous it had all been, it wasn’t Colt’s fault. But he’d never been willing to listen before. Now he had to know. “She’s got me thinking. Wondering. And I need to know if that’s really how you and all of the others feel.”
Con’s voice was soft, but the power behind the words reverberated in the air. “Colt, you didn’t cause the avalanche. Even you don’t have superpowers.”
Smiling briefly, Colt glanced at his twin. “If I’d been there, though, I could’ve made sure they took a safer run.”
Con laughed shortly, then shrugged. “I don’t know whose parents you’re remembering, but our father never took the safe route in his life.”
Colt frowned as Con stood up and came toward him. “Your being with them wouldn’t have changed anything. Dad was just as damned crazy adventurous as you are—where do you think you got it?”
Colt had never really thought about it like that. But now that he was...he wondered.
“The only thing that would have been different,” Con added, slapping his twin on the shoulder, “is that you would have died, too. And I’d have missed you, you big idiot.”