Beautifully Damaged (22 page)

Trent watched me with knowing eyes before he said, "You're still in love with him."

"I am. He was it for me."

"I'm sorry, Ember. That's hard."

"Yes, but I'm stronger than I was and with time, I will move on and my heartbreak will be a lesson learned."

"Have you seen him?"

"No."

"Didn't he try calling you?"

With a tinge of guilt, I looked down because, yes, Trace had tried calling me but I didn't answer. All I could see was Trace with that woman -- not a visual that evoked in me a wish to communicate with him.

"He tried but I didn't answer."

"He was looking for you so aren't you even a little curious why?"

I took a sip of my wine as I tried to soothe the ache from the tears that were burning the back of my throat.

"His method for telling me it was over was for me to find him fucking some woman."

"Jesus, Ember, I'm sorry. That was really shitty of him."

"Well, he wanted me gone and he did the one thing that he knew would make me go."

Later that night I found myself lying in bed thinking about my conversations not only with Trent from that night but also the one I'd had with my dad at Christmas. Trace did the one thing that I told him would make me leave. I pondered the fortuitous timing of our meeting that night and other conversations that Trace and I had and I began to seriously think that my dad may just have been onto something. Trace freaked out when I threatened to go to Charles and on the day of my meeting with Caroline, when Trace learned that Charles had been to Clover, he was livid but worse, there was fear in him, too. He told me that he didn't want me anymore but when he didn't think I was awake, he vowed to me that he would never love another like he loved me. Was I seeing only what I wanted to see or did Trace maybe hurt me as his way of protecting me?

About a month later, a package arrived for me at the apartment. I hadn't ordered anything and my dad hadn't mentioned anything about getting me something so it felt almost like Christmas as I sat in Trent's living room and unwrapped the parcel.

My heart stopped for a moment when I saw the first edition Charles Dickens'
Great Expectations
. Who would give me such a gift? I studied the beauty of the book. The royal-blue embossed cover with the weathered green spine and gold embellishments was exquisite. I flipped open the cover: the texture of the leather felt wonderful against my fingertips and the smell of old parchment filled my nose. I was so lost in the beauty of the book that it took me a moment to see the inscription written in a cursive script with which I was very familiar: Trace's.

I'll tell you what real love is. It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief against yourself and against the whole world, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter.

It was a quote from the book and Trace was offering those same words to me: words spoken by Miss Havisham to Pip. I remembered that night from long ago at the diner when I told Trace that I was reading my way through the classics; he remembered that, too. Tears filled my eyes as I sat there looking down at the greatest gift I had ever been given, which was given to me by a man who claimed to be over me. A smile touched my lips as my heart whispered, liar.

After Trace's gift I started thinking a lot about Charles Michaels since he was the spark that started the downward spiral in Trace and his relationship with me. I spent many a night looking into Charles' past hoping to uncover whatever it was that he held over Trace but the man was careful about the information that he left behind and available to the masses.

Charles Michaels was the link and understanding how he fit into Trace's world would help me better understand the weeks that led up to our break-up. I could think of one definite way that would allow me to get close to him and if he really was dangerous, I would be really stepping right into some serious shit but considering that Trace has been dealing with Charles alone, it was time that someone had his back.

It was a week later when I located Caroline's number and called her.

"Ember, how are you?"

"I'm good, thanks. How are you?"

"I'm fine. Cal misses you, you know?"

I smiled; I couldn't really help it before I asked, "How is he?"

"Pulling out what little hair he has left dealing with your replacement. Are you calling to tell me you made a mistake and are coming back to work?"

"Yes. Is Charles still interested in having me for a liaison?"

There was silence over the line for a moment before Caroline offered, "Yes."

"What exactly is he offering?"

"Exclusive interviews and coverage of him on his campaign trail, access to him at home and in the public eye, and the complete back story from his humble beginnings to now."

"And he still wants me?"

"Yes."

"Perfect." I knew his interest in me stemmed from Trace but why? What was he after? I intended to find out.

"I have another job, one that I work five days a week so depending on what he needs I'll have to juggle but I won't be available twenty-four/seven."

"I think that's fine."

"Okay, then please tell Mr. Michaels he has himself a correspondent."

"Are you sure, Ember, particularly since he seems to have an unusual interest in you?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay, come into the office tomorrow and we'll sort through the details."

"See you tomorrow."

My meeting with Caroline led to a meeting with Charles Michaels. I arrived at his campaign headquarters and can't deny that I was nervous because Trace's reaction to him had been startling. I needed to be mindful of the potential danger. I was led down a hall to the room at the end and sitting immediately within view upon entering was Charles Michaels. As soon as he saw me, he stood and moved around his desk to greet me.

"Miss Walsh, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me here." He looked over at the woman who escorted me and smiled, "That will be all, Pam."

The pretty blonde smiled before quietly pulling the door closed in her retreat.

"Please, Miss Walsh, won't you have a seat?"

"Thank you, and please call me Ember."

He settled behind his desk before he steepled his fingers and smiled at me with, what looked like, a genuine smile.

"Ember, it's very nice to finally meet you."

I wanted to comment that he had met me once before and was an uber dick but decided that being confrontational right out of the gate wasn't going to glean me any information so, I held my tongue. I had to give it to the old guy, he was as good a mind reader as Trace when a knowing smile touched his lips.

"I wasn't at my best that night at Clover. I do apologize for my rudeness."

What could I say to that, so, I said nothing which he seemed to take in stride.

"You strike me as an intelligent woman and I know that you know I've singled you out so please let me explain why you are here. Trace is my nephew and he has been on a downward spiral for a long time, thirteen years in fact. Something happened that changed him and I think it's time he brought that secret out into the light. I realize that he doesn't seem to care, that he's perfectly okay with ruining his life, but I am not okay with that. He's the son of my late sister and it pains me to see him being so destructive. You, Ember, are the only person he's taken an interest in and I'm hoping you can help him."

I felt as if the ground dropped out from under me as I reeled from Charles Michaels' confession; he was Trace's uncle. I hadn't seen that coming. No wonder Trace clammed up and reacted as he had whenever talk shifted to his family but what exactly did his uncle do that made Trace hate him so. I pulled myself from my thoughts to ask, "How?"

"He's a tormented soul. Surely you've seen that on your own. I'm hoping you will encourage him to seek help before he's lost to us."

"And your timing for this concern is just coincidental?"

A shrewd smile spread over his handsome face before he said, "Like I said, Miss Walsh, you are a very intelligent woman. I won't lie. I have certain aspirations. Trace's behavior could be a hindrance to my success so in seeking help for him while ensuring the success of my own goals, I don't see a downside."

Arrogant narcissist. He lets Trace suffer in silence until it begins to impact him and then suddenly takes an interest. Bastard.

"Why does he hate you so much?"

"I think you'll learn that he hates most people, family in particular."

"That's not an answer. He hates you and I think he may fear you, too. Why?"

An odd look crossed over Charles' face before he offered softly.

"I failed him."

"Meaning?"

"That's his story to tell but now I'm trying to make amends."

I didn't understand what he meant but I believed him -- believed that he really was trying to right a wrong. Was Charles' failing of Trace related to his demons? Most likely.

"I'm not with your nephew any more."

"I know but you still care for him."

"I won't lie to him and I'll be up front about all of it. I'm doing this for him not you."

"Fine."

"I don't know what haunts Trace but I suspect that you do. You are a part of why he's tormented. Surely you know that."

"I do."

"And you let him suffer in silence for all these years. You allowed him to face alone whatever it is that has a hold over him. He moved here when he was fifteen so I'm guessing that he was still a kid when he was abandoned. How the fuck do you sleep at night?"

His tone turned hard when he replied, "There is nothing you can say to me that I haven't already said to myself. I'm a bastard -- a selfish bastard and I know it. Yes, I failed, stunningly, but I am trying now."

"A little late. Every action that your nephew makes is tainted by his past. He's stuck, he can't move forward and he can't go back and his demons have made him self-destructive. I don't like you, I don't like how you only now offer help when there's something in it for you but Trace has been left alone for long enough." I stood and reached my hand across his desk.

"Yes, I will try to do what you never did."

The insult had the desired effect as a look that could only be described as shame crossed over Charles' face before he took my hand into his own. His voice was very soft when he said, "Thank you."

I was livid on my way home from my meeting with Charles. Unconscionable was the thought of a young Trace left alone to deal with whatever dark secret plagued his past while that arrogant jackass knew that Trace was suffering yet did nothing. It was no wonder that Trace closed off to everyone; his own fucking family turned their backs on him.

I stewed on it for the rest of the day and I blew off my run the following morning and made my way to Trace's neighborhood. I stood on the opposite sidewalk from his apartment trying to find the courage to walk across the street.

It was while I stood there that I saw him coming down the steps of his apartment building. Having not seen him in ten weeks, my heart hiccuped at the sight of him and I thought he looked beautiful until I looked more closely and saw the hollowness of his cheeks, the darkness under his eyes and I realized that I wasn't hurting alone.

I followed him and the familiarity of that action wasn't lost on me. Not until he reached the park had I realized where he was going and that was when I felt the tears; he was going to see me. He leaned against a tree near the path where I ran but far enough away that I wouldn't see him but he would definitely see me. I wondered how long he had been doing that.

I stood there watching him. He checked his watch a few times and when he finally realized that I wasn't coming, the look on his face broke my heart. That was not the look of a man who was over me and it sure as hell wasn't the look of a heartless man getting his rocks off at Sapphire. I thought about the book he had sent to me and the meaning behind it and realized that my dad had been right: Trace did what he must to make me go. He was protecting me from whatever threat Charles Michaels posed and I believed the lie; I believed the worst of him.

After Trace left, I stood in the park for quite some time heartbroken that I hadn't seen through his game. I suppose that I wouldn't have though; the man was a master at making people see only what he wanted them to see. He was also stubborn as a mule, used to getting his own way, and apparently convinced that our relationship was not in my best interest. But I loved him and I missed him and damn it I wanted to stand at his side even though he didn't want me there.

Reflecting on what I learned of his past, I thought that he deserved to have at least one person on whom he could depend and realized that he already had one. I pulled out my phone and called Rafe who answered on the second ring.

"Ember, hey. How are you?"

"Not great, you?"

"About the same. What's up?"

"He didn't cheat, did he?"

There was silence for a moment in response before he offered, "No."

"How is he?"

"He's more closed off and he's fighting all the time. He's trying to purge you from his thoughts and his heart but he's not having much luck with that. For the first time in his life he seems motivated by something other than his demons. He wants something more than he wants to keep his past in the past. He loves you."

"I love him but I believed the lie. I failed him."

"No, Ember, you didn't. You saw exactly what he wanted you to see and you responded exactly how he knew you would. He played you, Ember. He did so for what he believed was your best interest, but he played you." He waited a beat before he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to take some really great advice and not let him push me away."

I heard his exhale before he whispered, "Thank, Christ."

I thought for a few days on how I could reach out to Trace and once I came up with an idea, it took me the better part of the day to make it just perfect.

That night I sat on my bed as butterflies took flight in my belly. Trent had given me a picture right before Trace and I split. It was one he had taken when the three of us were out dancing one night. Trace and I were on the dance floor, slow dancing, but it was the look on both of our faces as we looked at the other that had the tears burning the back of my eyes. It was love, pure and simple. A picture is worth a thousand words so I framed that picture and had it couriered to Trace. I sat in wait for him to receive it and hoping that he was going to acknowledge the gift. As if I willed it, my phone buzzed and I almost dropped it because my hands were shaking so badly. When I read his text, my heart tripped in my chest.