Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia #2) (9 page)

“Two or three weeks,” he shrugged, “which means Trent needs to watch Ace.”

“Whoa!” Trent exclaimed, tipping his chair back on two legs and waving his hands. “No way! I didn’t sign up for that, get someone else to do it!”

“Dude, you have a ferret, I think you can handle a dog.”

“My townhouse has a one pet limit, sorry,” Trent argued.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Did you forget who’s paying for your townhouse?” Trace eyed his brother.

“Shit.”

“Come on, Ace isn’t a bad dog. You can handle it,” Trace pleaded.

“But Bartholomew likes to run around on the floor. If Ace steps on him, that giant will kill him.”

“I think Bartholomew will survive two weeks in his cage and you could always put Ace in your bedroom and let the little carpet shark run around,” Trace shrugged. “Problem solved.”

“You have an answer for everything,” Trent snorted. “Fine, I’ll do it. But only because Ace is cute and I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“I knew you’d come around, little brother,” Trace smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” Trent took his hat off and twisted it around in his hands. “You owe me for this,” he pointed a finger warningly at Trace. “I don’t know what it is yet, but it’ll be big.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Trace shook his head.

“Boys,” Lily interrupted in a warning tone. “Stop it. I mean it.”

“Sorry, mom,” Trace bowed his head.

“Sorry,” Trent grumbled reluctantly. Despite the way they might sometimes act, I knew they both hated disappointing their mom. “I better get going,” he stood and kissed his mom’s cheek. “Thanks for lunch.” With that he brushed out of the room without a backwards glance.

“What’s got his panties in a bunch?” Trace asked his mom.

“How am I supposed to know? He’s nineteen, Trace. He hasn’t told me anything in a long time,” she sighed, finishing her wine.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Trace mumbled, looking towards the doorway. “I’ll be right back,” he told me.

“Mhmm,” I nodded.

Trace had been gone a minute, when Warren said, “Olivia, can I speak with you?”

Automatically, I felt like a small child who was about to get scolded, which was silly.

“Of course,” I wiped my mouth free of crumbs and took a sip of water.

He stood up and waited for me to do the same before guiding me out of the grand dining room and into his office located towards the middle of the mansion.

He closed the door behind us and motioned for me to sit on the large leather couch.

I’d only been in Warren’s office a few times, but I loved it. Every wall was covered in floor to ceiling built in bookshelves stained in a rich dark color. It was sophisticated but warm and welcoming. It was the kind of room that I would love to curl up in and read a good book.

Clearing his throat, Warren sat down beside me.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Olivia,” he started. “I’m sure Trace has already told you, even though I asked him not to, but in case he hasn’t I’m just going to say it.” He took a deep breath. “I have cancer.”

Even though I’d been prepared to hear those words, having Warren say them brought back everything I’d felt when Trace had told me—only this was a hundred times worse.

Not being able to help myself, I opened my arms and dove at him. He wrapped me in a hug, rubbing my back soothingly.

“Please, don’t cry,” he kissed the top of my head. “I don’t want you to cry for me, sweetie. I’ve lived an amazing life and it’s time for me to go. There’s no need to mourn that.”

I put a fist against my mouth to stifle my sobs. Gramps was the one
dying
and he was comforting me.

“I need you to listen to me, sweet pea,” he took me by the shoulders and pulled me away so I was forced to look in his eyes. “Can you do that?”

I nodded, taking deep breaths in the hopes to quiet my sobs.

“I’ve known about the cancer for a long time now, more than a year, and I chose to forgo treatment. I didn’t want to…wither away. I wanted to enjoy every last moment with all of you. I hope you can understand that.”

My lower lip shook with the threat of tears.

“You and Trace are the only people that know. I’m not telling anyone else. I don’t want any of you to look at me differently. I plan to enjoy these last few weeks of my life as if nothing’s wrong.”

“Weeks?” I squeaked. “Trace said you had anywhere from a few weeks to a few
months
,” my voice cracked.

“I told him that to give him
hope
,” Warren took my hand, holding it tightly in his. His skin was warm and a healthy color. Nothing about him screamed that he was
sick
. Nothing but that cough. How could someone appear outwardly healthy but be fighting such a vicious disease on the inside? “I know my death is going to be hard on my family, you included, but it’s going to be hardest on Trace. He already lost his dad,” Warren took a shaky breath. “I need you to be strong for him. I need you to comfort him and keep him grounded. Can you do that?” His eyes held a shimmer of hesitance. I knew it was hard for him to ask me this, because he knew I was hurting too.

“Of course. I’d do anything for Trace and I’d do anything for you, Gramps,” I hugged him. He smelled slightly like peppermint…like comfort and home.

“You’re a strong girl, Olivia. Stronger than Trace gives you credit for.”

“I don’t know about that,” I tried to laugh around the tears.

“You are,” he whispered. “Sometimes it’s the quiet strength that we have to watch out for.”

“I think that’s everything,” Trace grinned, closing the trunk of his Camaro, and pushing up his thick framed black glasses. He grabbed me around the waist, plastering my body against his. My hands landed against his chest. The thin cotton tank he wore did little to mask the amazing muscles he was hiding underneath it. “Are you ready to be stuck in a car with me for weeks?” He smirked, bending his head and grazing his lips against my chin, before biting gently with his teeth. Every time he did that it left my brain a pile of mush.

“Mhmm,” I murmured, closing my eyes. “It’ll be fantastic if you keep doing that.”

“This?” He asked a moment before he placed a kiss on my collarbone and then bit it.

“Yeah, that.”

“I think I can arrange to do that often…all over your body,” his lips glided over my shoulder, up my neck, and settled over my own.

I felt slightly lightheaded when he stepped back. “You’re way too good at that,” I groaned.

“There’s more where that came from,” he winked.

I smiled, shaking my head. “Is Trent picking Ace up here or are we dropping him off at his apartment?”

“Dropping him off. We’d wait forever for that loser,” Trace chuckled. “I’ll be right back,” he held up a finger and dashed up the steps into the apartment. He appeared a moment later with Ace on a leash and the bag of dog things I’d packed.

“Did you put
everything
the dog owns in here? This is heavy!” He grumbled, awkwardly making his way down the steps.

I laughed, taking the leash from him.

“No, but dog food is heavy,” I informed him, ushering Ace into the backseat.

“Did you put a blanket down so he doesn’t scratch the leather?!” Trace exclaimed from behind me, trying to peer over my shoulder.

“Calm yourself,” I laughed, “of course I did.”

Not only was Trace a mechanic, but he was a car enthusiast. Heaven forbid he think there was a knick on one of his ‘babies.’

“Before we leave, are you
sure
you have everything?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Just as sure as I was the last ten times you asked me.”

“Just checking,” he chuckled, getting in the driver’s side. He patted the dashboard and said, “Let’s roll.”

Trent’s townhouse was surprisingly nice. I shouldn’t have been surprised though. Even before I came along, Trace’s apartment had been pristine and didn’t resemble the typical bachelor pad.

While the furniture and wall colors were of a masculine variety, nothing screamed that he was a college freshman living on his own.

A furry creature ran between my feet and I let out a yelp.

At my cry, Ace began to bark and tried to pull the leash from Trace’s hand so he could run after it.

“Bartholomew! Come back!” Trent chased after the ferret. “I swear I put him away!” Trent called to us. “He’s a little escape artist! Aha! Got him!” Trent exclaimed, grabbing up the furry little creature. “Bad,” he scolded the ferret, before putting it back in its cage. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled crookedly. “Sorry about that.”

“Yeah, well,” Trace said dryly, “are you sure you can handle this?”

“Having doubts about me so soon?” Trent batted his eyelashes. “I’m offended. Especially after you forced me to agree to this.”

“I didn’t force you,” Trace groaned.

Trent raised a brow.

“Okay, so maybe I
was
a little pushy,” Trace shrugged.

“A little?” Trent shook his head and then smiled at me. “I don’t know how you put up with this idiot.”

“Sometimes I wonder myself,” I laughed.

“We need to get on the road,” Trace held the leash out for Trent to take.

I bent and said goodbye to Ace, then hugged Trent.

“Thank you for doing this,” I whispered in his ear so Trace couldn’t hear, “I’m sorry he was so bossy.”

“It’s fine,” he whispered back, “I like to give him a hard time.”

Trace was watching us with narrowed eyes. “I know you two are talking about me. I’m not stupid.”

“Never thought you were,” Trent smacked his brother on the shoulder, “now get out of my house. I don’t want to see your sorry ass for at least two weeks.”

“How I got stuck with you for a brother is beyond me,” Trace shook his head as he left.

“Have fun,” Trent chuckled, waving goodbye to me.

I waved back, closing the door behind me.

Trace was already waiting in the Camaro with his sunglasses on and the windows rolled down.

“Where are we heading first?” I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

“Pittsburgh,” he answered, speeding out of the neighborhood, and making a sharp turn. If he slung me against the door so help me—

“Trace!” I groaned, when my shoulder slammed against the door. “Don’t do that! It hurts!”

“Sorry,” he grinned, so I knew he really wasn’t sorry.

“Why are we going to Pittsburgh?” I rubbed my shoulder.

“It’s a surprise,” he sat back, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You and surprises…I’m not sure I’m fond of this idea,” I eyed him.

“It’s nothing
bad
. I promise.”

“Now I’m scared,” I pulled my hair to the side and began to braid it. Leaving it down to whip around my face was not an option in my book. I didn’t want to spend an hour having to untangle the wavy ends because Trace had the windows down.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he took my hand, “that makes the end result all the more fun.”

“You have a twisted sense of logic,” I laughed, tucking my legs underneath me.

“There’s a method to my madness,” he squeezed my hand. “Wait and see.”

And that’s how I found myself parked outside of the old Heinz factory that now served as a museum on the company and the city of Pittsburgh. There was a large lit up ketchup bottle that was filling up the Heinz sign with ‘ketchup.’