Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (83 page)

“You’re exaggerating,” Dex chuckled with a roll of his eyes.

“Twelve times. Does that sound like an exaggeration?” Douglas countered.

I smiled at their familiar banter.

“Okay, so I was a bad kid,” Dex shrugged. “At least I’ll have some kick ass stories to tell my grandkids one day.”

“I’m home!” A female voice called out. I hadn’t heard the garage door open since I’d been so caught up in listening to my grandpa and Dex bicker.

I held my breath, bracing myself to meet my grandma for the first time.

Heels clacked against the floor and when they stopped I slowly brought my eyes up.

My mouth fell open and I’m pretty sure I choked on my saliva. Why? Because, I was looking at Margaret, the lady that owned the store with the origami stars. My eyes widened further as I recalled her mentioning a son that had died.

Margaret looked between Trace and I with a bewildered expression. “What are you doing here?”

“You know each other?” Douglas looked from Trace and I to his wife.

“I don’t
know
them, but they came into the shop yesterday.”

Trace began to whistle the tune to ‘It’s A Small World” under his breath. I smacked my fist against his thigh to get him to stop.

“What’s going on?” Margaret asked.

I couldn’t seem to get my voice to work. I sat frozen, staring at her like a weirdo. I hadn’t noticed yesterday, simply because I hadn’t known to look, but we had the same slender nose that was upturned on the end. The same heart shaped lips and slightly rounded cheeks.

“Mom, meet Olivia,” Dex swept his hand from Margaret to me, “your granddaughter. Oh, and she’s Derek’s daughter, not mine, FYI.”

Margaret’s mouth fell open and she looked at me with shock.

For a moment, she didn’t move, then suddenly she was in front of me sobbing hysterically. Gosh, I was making everyone cry today.

“You? You’re? Oh my God!” She pulled me off the couch into a hug, swaying us back and forth. My arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and inhaling her scent of lavender and juniper. She patted my cheeks, tears streaming down her face. “Derek’s daughter? I-I-I didn’t know.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I chose to say nothing.

“You’re so beautiful,” she fingered one of my curls. “You look so much like him.” She shook her head, gazing at me in disbelief. “I can’t believe this.”

“Me neither,” I admitted.

“How did you find us?” She asked as we scooted around to make room for her on the couch.

Trace cleared his throat and her gaze flicked his way. Rubbing my back, he said, “I hired a private investigator. I wanted Olivia to know her family.”

“Well, thank you,” Margaret wiped her face with the backs of her hands. “This is very forward of me, but can I ask who your mother is?”

“Her name is Nora. If you knew her, you would’ve known her as Nora Owens.” My eyes flicked away from hers guiltily. If they knew who my mom was, then they would know that she was married to Aaron when she got pregnant.

“I remember her,” Margaret smiled and my stomach plummeted. “She was very sweet but she always seemed so sad. She was married, wasn’t she?”

I nodded reluctantly.

“Aaron, I believe his name was?”

I nodded again and Trace squeezed my hand in reassurance.

“Derek told me about him. He said he wasn’t …” She paused, unsure if she should continue.

“He was a bad man. I know,” I sighed.

“Is your mom still married to him?”

“No,” I answered.

“Good for her,” Margaret smiled.

I swallowed thickly, debating on whether or not to tell them what had
really
happened to Aaron. In the end, though, I decided against it. They didn’t need to know what I went through. I wanted them to look at me, and see me, not the girl who was traumatized by the abusive father figure who’d tried to kill her.

“Are you hungry?” Margaret asked us. Before we could answer, she went on to say, “I’m starving. Why don’t I make us all a nice lunch and we can catch up some more?”

“Sounds good,” I smiled.

“Would you like to help me?” She asked with a wide smile as she stood.

“Of course,” I pushed myself up off the couch to help her. Before I left the living room, I turned to look over my shoulder at Trace, fearing he might be mad that I was leaving him alone. But he was already carrying on a conversation with my grandpa, completely at ease.

The kitchen was bright and cheery with cabinets painted a pale green and a white tile countertop. It needed some updating, but it was cute and well maintained.

“I thought we’d make some sandwiches, nothing fancy,” she opened the refrigerator, laying different items on the countertop. “Bread is over there,” she pointed to a pantry.

I opened the doors and located the loaf of bread.

Margaret was already getting out plates so I undid the twist-tie and counted out the right amount of slices.

“Are you in college?” She asked, trying to make small talk.

“I recently graduated,” I replied, taking the mayonnaise jar from her and untwisting the lid since she was struggling.

“Good for you,” she smiled, clapping her hands together in excitement. “What’s your degree in?”

“English,” I supplied. “I’m going to be a teacher.”

“That’s really wonderful!”

“Really?” I questioned.

She frowned. “You don’t think so?”

“No, it’s not that. I’m excited to be a teacher. Some people tend to be really negative about it though.”

“People … like?” She probed.

“Just people in general,” I shrugged. “My mom’s supportive and so is Trace but …”

“But what?” She asked, spreading the mayonnaise on the bread.

“It’s nothing.” I opened the baggie full of deli meat and started pulling out slices of turkey.

“You can tell me, Olivia. I know you don’t know me that well. But I’m a good listener and I am your grandma,” she smiled kindly.

“Well, I once told Trace that I wanted to write a book. He’s afraid that if I start teaching I’ll never do it.”

“Is he right?” She began laying slices of cheese on the bread.

“Probably,” I admitted.

“If you want to write one, why don’t you?”

“I don’t know what I’d even write about,” I groaned.

“Why do you have to have a story mapped out? Why can’t you sit down and just … do it?”

Trace had said basically the same thing the first time I’d ever mentioned writing a book. He’d brought it up several times over the years, especially in the months before I graduated. I think he was as concerned about me being stuck doing a job I hated, as I was about him.

She looked at me, waiting for me to respond.

“I don’t think I could do that,” I finally said.

“How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

She had me there.

“Maybe one day,” I shrugged as she put the food items away. I helped her set the plates on the table and she grabbed five water bottles.

“Lunch is ready!” She called and the three men joined us.

Trace took the seat across from me, letting my grandma and grandpa sit beside me.

“After we eat, Trace, is going to drive me around in that Camaro,” my grandpa announced proudly. “That’s a nice car.”

Trace chuckled. “I’m glad you approve, sir.”

“Dougie. Not sir. Sir sounds like … well, I better not say what it reminds me of,” my grandpa chortled.

My cheeks flamed and Trace snorted, turning it into a cough to cover himself.

“What do you do for a living, Trace?” My grandma asked.

“I’m currently working as a mechanic, but my grandpa is grooming me to take over the family business,” he replied.

“And what exactly is your family’s business?”

Oh, God. This was getting embarrassing. These people may have been my grandparents, but they didn’t
know
me, and they were already giving my boyfriend the third degree. Husband! Not boyfriend! Hopefully, in a few days, I’d be used to the fact that Trace was now my husband. It still seemed surreal. We’d gotten engaged and then married so quickly that none of it had quite sunk in yet … maybe it never would.

“We make ammunition,” he answered.

“Ammunition,” my grandpa mused. “You hunt?”

“Some. Not as much as I used to,” Trace shrugged.

“I like you,” my grandpa announced, enthusiastically pointing a finger at Trace. Turning to me, he added, “You did good.”

I smiled over at Trace, my body flooding with warmth. “I think so too.”

“So,” Margaret started, “I remember you saying yesterday that you weren’t from here. But you grew up here, right?”

“Yeah,” I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, “I lived close to here. When it came time to go to college I … I needed to get away.”

“Where are you living now?”

“Virginia,” I answered.

“That far away?” Her eyes widened.

I frowned. “Yes.”

Her lower lip trembled with the threat of tears. “You mean, I’ve only just met you and I’m going to have to say goodbye so soon?”

I nodded sadly.

“Please say you’ll stay with us for a few days. We have a spare room ready for guests and I’d love to get to know you better before you leave,” she pleaded with me.

I looked across at Trace and he nodded.

“We can do that,” I answered. “You know,” I ventured hesitantly, “when we get back home, we’re going to have a wedding ceremony, since we didn’t have a real one here. Our moms want to see us … you know … actually get married. You should come.”

Margaret looked at Douglas and they seemed to communicate silently, a lot like how Trace and I did.

“We’ll try to make it, sweetie,” she assured me. “But we can’t make any promises. It’s a long way.”

“I understand completely. No pressure.”

“We want to,” she added. “We definitely want to. But Doug isn’t in the best shape for traveling by car and we can’t afford plane tickets—”

“Say no more,” Trace interrupted. “I’ll get the tickets. One for you too Dex and your daughter, if that’s okay.”

“I’m sure I can get out of work for a few days,” Dex shrugged. “Ella will be dying to meet you once I tell her,” he told me. “She’ll think you’re her sister.”

“I would love to meet her. I’ve always wanted a little sister,” I confessed.

I smiled at Dex, and then smiled at each of my grandparents. I had only met them today, but already the overwhelming sense of
family
was impossible to ignore. I felt …
loved
. But most importantly, I felt like I belonged.

“I closed the shop so we’d have all day together,” Margaret announced when I stepped into the kitchen.

“Thank you, grandma,” I smiled widely, excited at the prospect of getting to know her and my grandpa even more today.

She burst into tears, sobbing, “You called me grandma! Doug! Doug! Did you hear that? Olivia called me grandma!”

My eyes widened and I backed into Trace’s chest. His hands snaked out to grab me and keep me from falling. I hadn’t expected me calling her grandma to cause such a reaction. If I’d known, I probably wouldn’t have said it.

“Um …” I paused, unsure of what to say. Did I apologize? Or hug her? Or run the other way? Running seemed like a good option at this point.

“I’m sorry,” she fanned her face. “I didn’t expect you to call me grandma.”

“I don’t have to,” I mumbled, growing red in the face from embarrassment.

She scurried across the room and stopped in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “No, I want you to.”

“O-o-kay,” I stuttered.

“Maggie, stop scaring the poor girl,” Doug chuckled, coming into the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee.

“I haven’t been this emotional in a long time,” she explained, ripping off a paper towel and using it to dry her tears.

“It’s understandable,” Trace gently nudged me in the back so I’d stop standing in the doorway.

I willed my legs to move, since they were currently frozen, and took a seat at the oak kitchen table.

Margaret had made a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttered toast. Maybe I was crazy, but I thought they were the best scrambled eggs I’d ever had because my grandma had made them.

My grandma.

I had a grandma.

And a grandpa.

An uncle.

Even a cousin.

I had a
family
.

Being close to my mom and Trace’s family, I hadn’t known I was missing out on anything, but I had been.

So many people took their family for granted, not realizing how lucky they were.

I had finished eating my breakfast when my cellphone began ringing.

I smiled bashfully and pushed away from the table. “I better take this. I’m sure it’s my mom.”

“No problem,” my grandma said as she gathered up the dirty dishes.

I unlocked door and stepped onto the front porch, sitting down on the steps before pulling out my phone.

I frowned at the caller ID. It wasn’t my mom, like I had expected. Instead, it was Avery.

“Hello?” I answered hesitantly.

“You bitch!” She shrieked venomously into the phone.

I startled at her tone. “What do you mean? What did I do?” I hesitantly brought the phone back to my ear, in case she had another outburst.