Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (132 page)

It was my fault.

I couldn’t take back those years he’d lost with his son. But I could try to give him a glimpse.

I knew I still needed to give him more time before I saw him, though.

But I had to get him to understand.

I was prepared to accept the fact that he hated me, but I didn’t want him to hate Tristan. I wanted him to see what an amazing kid our son was. How even at this age, he was wise like his father, and curious like I had been as a child. He was a little piece of the two of us that would always bind us together.

“Wanna play?” Tristan asked, holding out a car for me.

“Sure,” I took it from him.

He sat on the floor, driving his car around. “Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!”

I stared listlessly at the floor as I half-heartedly pushed the toy car around.

“Row… Row!”

I looked up to find Tristan halted in his playing. “Like this, Row,” he raced his car around in a circle as far as his little arms could reach. “Vroom!”

I laughed, making the noise with him as I drove the car around the room.

“What are you doing?” Ivy appeared in the doorway.

“Playing cars,” Tristan answered. He laid his car to the side and grabbed one from the pile. “Here, you play too.”

Ivy took the car and sat on the floor to join us in play.

It tore me apart that Tristan didn’t know I was his mom.

In his eyes, and Ivy’s, I was though, in all the ways that counted.

“What are you still doing here?” Trace asked, stepping in the office as he brought a bottle of water to his lips. “I thought you already left.”

I shook my head. “I’m trying to organize your schedule for called-in appointments and make sure I’ve left time for emergency requests,” I pointed to the appointment book I was scribbling in.

“I don’t know what I did before you came along,” he admitted, jumping up on the other desk in the corner, his legs swinging. He leaned over, opening the top drawer, and grabbed a bag of ketchup-flavored chips. “Want some?” He asked, holding the bag out for me. I shook my head as my nose wrinkled in disgust. Ketchup flavored chips? Um, gross. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, munching on one of the crunchy potato chips. “They’re delicious.”

We fell into an awkward silence, and I found myself opening my mouth and asking something I shouldn’t. “How’s Trent?” My eyes raised to briefly meet Trace’s before they fell to the paper in front of me once more.

“Honestly?” He asked. “I don’t know. He hasn’t talked to any of us since he went back to school. He’s ignoring our calls too. My mom was thinking about driving up to his school to check on him, but I talked her out of it. He just needs time,” he crunched on another chip. “He’ll come around.”

“No, he wont,” my voice was full of sadness. “Trust me,” I swiveled in the chair to force myself to look at Trace, “I accepted a long time ago that when Trenton found out the truth he’d hate me. I’ve had five years to prepare myself. You don’t need to try to make me feel better by spouting lies.”

“I wasn’t lying to you,” Trace set the chip bag aside, rubbing his salty fingers on his already dirty jeans. “He will come around, and he will forgive you, because he loves you. Right now, he’s hurt, and he can’t think straight.”

“He can’t possibly love me after what I did,” I whispered, pain clenching my insides. “What I did was
horrible
and I know he must hate me.”

Trace shook his head. “I’m sure he
wishes
he hated you, but he doesn’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” I questioned.

“Because, love does crazy things to you. I love Olivia more than I ever thought it was possible to love another person, and if she did something like this to me, I’d definitely be angry at first.
Really
angry. But I’d get over it, and I’d let her explain, and we’d move on from it. Love makes forgiveness easy.”

“Forgiveness is never easy,” I whispered, “especially when it isn’t deserved.”

Trace hopped down from the desk and patted my shoulder as he passed. “I’m sorry you think that way, but my little brother is going to prove you wrong. Definitely not today or tomorrow. One day, though.”

“What if one day doesn’t come soon enough?” I asked him.

“Then that’s Trent’s loss,” he shrugged, edging out the door. “Go home. It’s late.”

I nodded, closing the book and standing. I pushed the desk chair in and grabbed my purse. Trace flicked the office light off and closed the door. He locked it, and then we headed outside where he shut the garage doors and locked that as well.

As he started towards his car, he suddenly stopped and looked back at me. “Give him another week.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“Then you explain yourself, and hope for the best.”

In my life, I’d learned that the best never came, and I expected this to be no different.

I sat with my hands clenching the steering wheel.

I’d spent the last thirty minutes sitting in my car unable to back out of the driveway. It had been almost a month since Trent had left and I knew it was time for me to face my fears—to face him—and get everything off my chest.

I knew any chance of a relationship between us had been blown.

I also knew that I owed him an explanation.

I had asked Trace for Trent’s dorm information and where best to wait for him last week. Trace hadn’t pushed me to go after his brother, but he wanted me too. He was optimistic that Trent would get over this, and sweep me into his arms, but that was merely a dream.

“You can do this, Rowan,” I started giving myself a ridiculous, but much needed pep talk, “there is nothing to be afraid of. It’s just Trent. He hates you, but you have to explain yourself. He deserves an explanation.”

I let my head fall against the steering wheel.

“I’m an idiot,” I stated.

Staring down at the dark dashboard, since I hadn’t started the car, I counted. The counting calmed me and gave me something to focus on besides the thoughts in my head.

“You can do this,” I said, not caring if I looked like an idiot sitting in my car talking to myself.

I started the car, turning up the radio and blasting it as I made the two-hour drive to Trent’s campus.

My fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. I was scared to face him now that the truth was out there between us, but I had to. I was definitely scared that he’d refuse to talk to me, or even look at me. I had to try though—even if it crushed me.

I pulled up to the campus and parked my car.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to open the car door and step out into the frigid winter air. I reached back inside for my mittens, hat, and the book I’d brought with me to give him. I slipped my hands into the warm mittens as I strode across campus, muttering Trace’s directions under my breath. I’m sure to passersby I looked like a crazy person. Maybe I was.

I found a bench outside the dorm that Trace said was Trent’s. Trace had written down his schedule and given it to me, so I knew that Trent should be coming out of the dorm any minute.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

I prepared myself to see him. I wasn’t sure I was ready. But this had to be done.

I sat down on the bench, my eyes refusing to wander from the dorm door. I couldn’t miss him.

“Hey.”

I jumped, startled by the voice. I looked up to see a guy standing in front of me. He had shaggy blonde hair and he was tall with wide shoulders. He looked like a football player or something. He was good looking, sure, but there was only one guy for me.

“Hi,” I replied, knowing I had to answer him.

“I’m Ben,” he introduced himself.

“Mhmm,” I muttered, peering around him at the dorm.

“Are you not going to give me your name?” He questioned.

“No.”

He chuckled. “So, you want me to work for it?”

“No, I want you to move,” I snapped, looking up at him.

“Are you looking for someone?” He turned to look behind him.

“Yes,” I said, my tone cutting.

“Mind if I keep you company?” He asked, smiling cockily. He clearly thought that if I spent a few minutes with him I’d completely forget the person I was currently searching for.

I glared at him as he sat down beside me, not waiting for me to respond to his question.

God, the guy couldn’t take a hint.

Luckily, at that moment, I saw Trent start out the dorm doors… but he wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him. She was beautiful, with raven colored hair, olive skin, and dark eyes. She was the complete opposite of me.

He was smiling down at her as she spoke, obviously engrossed in whatever she was telling him.

Tears stung my eyes.

He had moved on.

I knew I should’ve expected it, but when I knew that there would never be anyone for me but Trent, it hurt to see that he’d been able to move on in a month.

“I have to go,” I muttered to Ben.

I started to jog away, but I didn’t make it far.

“Hey! Pretty girl!” Ben called.

I halted my steps. “What?!” I screamed, loud enough that I drew attention to myself. “Can’t you leave me the fuck alone?! I’m not interested!”

“You left this,” he replied with a chuckle, not the least bit annoyed by my outburst. He jogged up to me with the book tucked under his arm.

I took it from him and muttered, “Thanks.”

Bowing my head, I turned to leave and ran smack into someone’s chest.

“Ow,” I reached up to rub my forehead where it had clunked against the person’s chin.

“Rowan, what the hell are you doing here?” Trent growled, grabbing my elbow as I stumbled.

Ice slithered down my spine.

“Nothing,” I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “I was just leaving. Get back to your new girlfriend,” I spat, my tone full of venom I couldn’t contain.

“Rowan!” He called as I ran away.

Steps thudded behind me, and then I was forcibly turned around.

“Don’t run away from me,” he glared down at me. “You must have come here for a reason, so spit it out.”

“Let me go!” I wrenched my arm out of his grasp. My chest heaved with angry breaths and tears stung my eyes. I was embarrassed and angry with myself for even coming here. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t ready to have this confrontation, and clearly he wasn’t ready to see me either.

He raised his hands in surrender. “You’re the one that showed up at
my
campus,” he seethed, his eyes so full of hate that it made me feel like I was going to be sick. “I think I have a right to know why you’re here. Let’s get this over with,” he crossed his arms over his chest, his foot tapping impatiently against the ground.

“Not here,” I whispered as the need to fight left me, my eyes bashfully darted to the sidewalk concrete beneath my feet. I knew we’d drawn quite a crowd, and there was no way I was having this conversation here.

“Fine,” he growled.

He grabbed my arm once more and dragged me behind him to his dorm. He pulled out a keycard and swiped it. Forcing open the door, he all but shoved me inside. The muscle in his jaw ticked, reminding me once again that he wasn’t happy to see me. I’d expected that, but it still stung worse than a slap from my mother.

“Follow me,” he stormed up a set of steps, his heavy boots slapping against the tiled floor.

I’d come this far, so there was no turning back. I reluctantly followed behind him as I counted in my head.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

He stopped in front of a door and waited for me.

He opened the door and waved me inside first. I think he thought I still might try to leave.

“Sit,” he pointed at the bed covered in a navy bedspread. I assumed it was his side of the dorm, as the other was covered in dirty clothes and other junk. Trent wasn’t that messy.

I perched on the end of the bed, taking a deep breath.

He pulled out the chair from his desk and sat in it backwards. “Talk.”

Apparently he was so angry that he could only speak to me in short curt sentences.

“I don’t know where to begin,” I whispered, forcing myself to look at him.