Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (82 page)

“I—uh—need some air,” I stood shakily with a hand against my throbbing head. I shuffled to the door and turned to find Trace behind me. “Alone,” I added in a harsh voice.

Pain flashed in his green eyes, but he nodded, ducking his head.

I pushed open the storm door and sat on the steps, breathing deeply in from my mouth and out from my nose.

There was a harsh pain in my chest and I grasped at my heart. Panic was rising from my stomach, up through my chest, clawing to get out. I hadn’t had a panic attack in a year, but one was hitting me now. I fought desperately to regain control of my body, but I couldn’t breathe.

The screen door slammed closed and Trace rushed around me, squatting in front of me. He took my face between his hands. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.”

I tried to even out my breathing but it wasn’t working. Tears escaped the corners of my eyes and he wiped them away.

“It’s okay, Olivia,” he said soothingly. “Everything is okay. All you have to do is breathe.”

My gasps began to quiet and my chest didn’t heave near as much, but the panic attack hadn’t passed yet, and if I didn’t get myself completely calmed down it would start up again.

“I’m so sorry, Olivia,” he brushed my hair away from my eyes. “I should’ve told you. I thought you deserved to know about them. They’re your family. I wanted you to find that part of yourself. I didn’t want you to feel like you had no one. I know how often you look at your dad’s pictures and I know how much you wish you knew him. But he’s gone, and if you can’t know him, then I was going to be damned before I kept you from your grandparent’s and uncle,” he spoke fiercely. “I really thought I was doing the right thing,” he pleaded with me to believe him. “I didn’t tell you because I know how shy you are with meeting new people and that you’d get yourself too worked up to meet them. Clearly, I was wrong,” he chuckled humorlessly, “you got upset anyway.”

He quieted after that, breathing slowly with me in an effort to keep me calm. His hands soothed up and down my back. He watched me with worry in his eyes. Once, I’d woken up from one of my nightmares, and had such a bad panic attack that he had to take me to the hospital. I didn’t like scaring him like that.

“I’m okay,” I said after a few minutes. My voice was hoarse, almost sounding like a smoker.

“Are you sure?” He asked hesitantly.

I nodded.

He took my hands and helped me to stand.

“Dexter probably thinks I’m so weird,” I frowned, glancing at my reflection in the glass door. I looked horrible. My hair was sticking up wildly, my skin was deathly pale, and my brown eyes were wide like a frightened rabbit.

“No, he doesn’t think that,” Trace chuckled.

“Of course he does,” I grumbled. “First, I called him dad and fainted. Then I ran out of the house having a panic attack. Did he—” I paused. “Did he know were coming?”

“Not at all. After you passed out into my arms I explained who you were and he let me inside. I was actually surprised to see him. This is your grandparent’s house. He said your grandpa was gone to the hardware store and your grandma is working,” he put a hand on my waist and I leaned heavily against him for support. Panic attacks always left me feeling drained and exhausted.

“What if they hate me?” I whispered. “What if they tell me to get out of their house?”

“Silly girl,” he brushed my hair away from my forehead so he could see my eyes, “how do you not see how incredibly lovable you are?”

“Lovable has nothing to do with it. I’m their illegitimate grandchild. My mom never even told them about me. Why wouldn’t she tell them? What if they’re horrible people?” I frowned, staring inside the door at the homey living room. Surely horrible people wouldn’t have such a sweet looking home?

“They were grieving,” Trace reasoned, “and your mom
was
married to another man. I can understand why she didn’t tell them. She was scared of Aaron and she’d lost your real dad. But don’t you think they deserve to have you in their lives, as much as you deserve them? You’re both missing out on something special.” Tears pooled in his eyes and he swallowed thickly. I knew he was thinking of Gramps.

I laid my hand comfortingly against his jaw. “You are one of a kind, Trace Wentworth.”

“Well,” he shrugged, fighting a smile, “I’ve never seen the benefits in being normal.”

I rubbed my hand against his stubbled cheek. “I love you,” I whispered. “Even when you pull stupid crap like this,” I pointed at the house, “I still love you.”

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to, and bent his head so he could press his lips against mine. Heat ignited in my belly at the feel of his lips. He lightly nipped at my bottom lip and a moan escaped me.

The harsh clearing of a throat had us pulling away.

“Feeling better?” Dex asked.

I nodded, untangling my fingers from Trace’s shirt. How had they even got there? It was like they had a mind of their own. “Much better,” I smoothed my hands on the jean fabric of my shorts.

Dex held open the storm door and nodded his head for us to go inside.

Trace and I sat side by side on the old floral couch. I looked around the living room, memorizing everything. The yellow walls, the scratched coffee table, the piano in the corner. Every single piece revealed a little bit about the family living there.

“So … did you and my dad grow up here?” I asked Dex, finally venturing to speak.

He leaned back in the matching floral chair. “Yeah.”

“Do you live here now?” I asked.

Dex laughed, his eyes crinkling. “No. I live about ten minutes from here. I’m here today helping my dad. He had this silly notion to build a bird house … and he has no tools.”

“Married?” I continued the inquisition.

“No,” he ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair.

“Why not?” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I’m not trying to be nosy. I just—”

“I understand,” he smiled. “You want to get to know me. I
was
married, but turned out she was banging my boss as well. Real stand up lady. We have a daughter together. Here, I have a picture,” he tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it up.

I smiled at the girl’s picture. She appeared to be about five or six, with straight dark brown hair that reached her shoulders and bangs straight across her forehead. A dimple indented each cheek. She was absolutely adorable and she was my family … my cousin. Holy crap, I had a cousin.

“She’s beautiful,” I handed his wallet back. “What’s her name?”

“Ella,” he answered.

“Do you see her often?” I ventured to ask, praying it wasn’t a sore spot for him.

“Every weekend,” he smiled sadly. “I wish it was more. She’s such a joy. Can’t say the same for her mother though,” he laughed humorlessly. “So,” he pointed a finger to Trace and me, “you two dating?”

“Married,” Trace answered.

Dex narrowed his eyes at Trace’s left hand. “I don’t see a ring.”

“That’s because we got married two days ago,” I supplied. “We’ll exchange rings when we get back home.”

“Mhmm,” Dex hummed in disbelief, sizing Trace up. “Don’t hurt her,” he warned.

It secretly pleased me that Dex was putting on a father act. I had grown up believing Aaron was my father, but he’d never been very … fatherly. I didn’t know what it was like to have a normal father/daughter relationship. Heck, my relationship with my mother had been far from normal with the constant fear she lived with.

The sound of a garage door going up had me on edge.

“Showtime,” Dex waggled his brows.

Trace’s hand sought mine, entwining our fingers together. “It’ll be okay,” he said confidently.

I held my breath, waiting for one of my grandparents to enter the room.

“Dex? Where are you?” A man’s voice called out. “That little punk at the hardware store was less than helpful. Honestly, America’s youth. What are they teaching those kids in school these days? Obviously not manners,” he grumbled. “And did you see that Camaro parked out front?” He continued to rattle as the sound of plastic bags being set down met my ears. “I haven’t seen a ride that nice in forty years.”

“Dad?” Dex called out. “Why don’t you come into the living room, there’s some people I’d like you to meet?”

“What are they selling? Tell them I’m not interested. I might be old but I’m not stupid.”

“Dad,” Dex said a little more sternly. “They’re not selling anything.”

“Then why’d you let them in? Are they holding a gun to your head or something, son? Where’s my shotgun?” He muttered and I heard his feet shuffling against a tile floor. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Dad, just get in here,” Dex rolled his eyes and mouthed, ‘old people.’

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. You don’t need to be so demanding. What happened to treating your elders with respect? I did give you life, don’t forget that.”

An older man with a slightly stooped back and white hair appeared in the doorway. His face was heavily lined but there was a light in his eyes that made him seem much younger.

The breath left my lungs in a gust as his eyes met mine.

This man … he was my
grandpa
.

He studied me with a look of puzzlement.

“Dexter, you have a kid I don’t know about? Or am I getting senile and Ella’s older than I remember?”

“Dad,” Dex stood, putting an arm around the older man. “This is Olivia. She’s Derek’s daughter.”

The man—my grandpa, I corrected myself—crumpled to the ground sobbing.

My mouth fell open and I looked up at Trace hoping he would tell me what to do, but he was as stunned as I was.

“Dad?” Dex knelt on the floor in front of him. “Dad, are you okay?”

He continued to sob and his tear filled eyes met mine. Reflected in his orbs was delight and wonder.

“I never—” He shook his head. “I can’t believe this.” Dex helped him to his feet and I stood, hesitantly making my way to him. He looked me up and down in disbelief. “You … you’re beautiful … and you look so much like your dad. I can’t believe you’re real. I thought after he died—” He choked, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his face free of tears. “Can I hug you?”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face against his robust chest.

“Olivia,” he said my name softly, like he was testing the sound of it, and patted my head like one would a small child.

I pulled away and my eyes roamed over his face. He had thick brows and a strong jaw. He was handsome, and I’m sure back in the day he’d broken many hearts. I found that my cheeks were stained with tears and I hadn’t even realized I was crying. I wiped them away, laughing slightly in embarrassment. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

“Douglas,” he smiled. “But you can call me Dougie.”

“Can I—” I stopped myself, scared to ask, but finally I forced the words out. “Can I call you grandpa?”

He started crying again. “I would love for you to call me grandpa,” he wrapped his arms around me in another bear hug. “In fact, I’d be honored.”

He took my hand and led me back to the couch. I ended up sandwiched between my grandpa and Trace as Dex plopped in the chair once more.

“I’m Trace,” he held out his hand to my grandpa. “Olivia’s husband.”

My grandpa let his hand drop. “Husband? You’re married?” He asked me. When I nodded, he said, “You don’t look older than twenty.”

“Twenty-two,” I blushed.

“You’re a tiny thing,” he chuckled. “Stay around here long and your grandma will have you fattened up,” he patted his round stomach. “She’s an excellent cook.”

I knew there were a thousand and one questions I should have been asking him, but at the moment all I could do was sit and stare at my grandpa in awe.

“Your grandma should be here any minute,” he glanced at his watch. “She always comes home for a late lunch before going back to the shop.”

My heart skipped a beat in excitement.

In a matter of minutes, I had gained an uncle, cousin, and grandparents. I had been content to carry on my life never knowing them, figuring they wanted nothing to do with me. In all honesty, it was unfair for me to have believed that. After all, my mom had confessed to me that she’d never told them about me.

“I’ll call her and see where she is,” he patted my knee. “And then you can ask us any questions you want to know and we can get to know you better.” He heaved himself up from the couch and shuffled out of the room.

“Well,” Dex smacked his hands against the arms of the chair, “my day got a whole lot more exciting. This is like one of those bad soap operas that’s always on TV.”

I giggled at his words. How often in the last two years had I compared my life to a soap opera? A lot, that’s for sure.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” I told him.

Douglas came back into the room a few minutes later. “Maggie should be here in a few minutes. She’s going to be beside herself,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you’re Derek’s daughter. He’s been gone for twenty-two years. When someone’s been dead for that long it gets kind of difficult to remember that they were ever even alive.”

“That’s just because you’re old, dad,” Dex chimed.

Douglas eyed his son. “Even after all these years you’re still a smart mouth.”

“It keeps life interesting,” Dex winked. “To be honest,” he laughed, scratching his beard, “when I opened the door, I thought you were my kid or something and that I’d knocked some girl up back in the day. Then you called me ‘dad’ and I thought, ‘Holy shit! She really is your kid, Dex!’”

“Sorry,” I giggled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Nah,” he waved his hand in dismissal. “I’m just happy to know that good ole’ Derek didn’t die a virgin. He was always a goody two shoes. He was their favorite,” he whispered conspiratorially, pointing at his dad. “They think I didn’t know, but it was obvious.”

“That’s not true,” Douglas’ face grew red. “We loved you both equally. Derek never caused all the trouble you did though. If I could get back all the hours I lost bailing your sorry as out of jail, I’d be a young man again.”