Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (64 page)

Lily, Trace’s mom, pulled me into a hug. “It’s good to see you. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk more at your graduation, but Trace—”

I held up a hand to silence her. “I know. Trace is Trace, and he had a plan, which left little time for chitchat. Although, my mom didn’t help with her endless picture taking.”

“You’re her only child,” Lily shrugged, “of course she wanted lots of pictures.”

“I won’t be an only child for much longer,” I laughed.

“No, I guess not,” she guided me into the dining room.

“Look! It’s my favorite granddaughter!” Warren exclaimed as I entered the room.

My heart clenched and tears threatened to fall, but I dammed them back, because Trace wasn’t supposed to tell me and I’d hate to ruin dinner. Trace was already bound to ruin it with his announcement that we were leaving for a few weeks.

“Hey Gramps,” I left Lily’s side and made my way to the head of the massive dining table, where Warren sat. I bent and kissed his wrinkled cheek. He grabbed my left hand, inspecting the ring. “Bought time my lousy grandson put a ring on your finger.”

I laughed, squeezing his hand.

“When’s the wedding?” He asked.

“We haven’t talked about—”

“Gramps!” Trace groaned, coming into the room. “Don’t scare her, I just proposed.”

“When you’re as old as me, these questions are important,” he coughed.

I looked up at Trace and saw several emotions war across his face. He met my gaze and tried to hide his frown.

I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking it too, Gramps might not be alive to see us get married. I couldn’t imagine not having Gramps there … since I didn’t have my own dad, and had never met my grandparents, I’d assumed Warren would walk me down the aisle. If that didn’t happen … it would break my heart.

Trace stopped beside Gramps chair, on my other side, and patted his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll talk about it soon.”

“Make it snappy.”

“Will do, Gramps,” Trace chuckled, taking a seat.

I took the seat beside him as Cecilia brought out the food. My eyes widened at the sight of the food. It was always a feast at the Wentworth’s.

“Where’s Trenton?” Lily looked around the room, realizing that her youngest son had yet to arrive.

“Probably sleeping,” Trace shrugged.

“It’s one in the afternoon!” She shrieked. “I’m calling him and he better get his butt here.”

Before she could get her phone, Trent breezed into the dining room. “Sorry I’m late,” he grumbled, pulling his baseball cap low over his eyes. “I was up late studying last night.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Your classes ended a few days ago, Trenton. What could you possibly be studying?”

“The female anatomy,” he smirked.

“Trenton Carson Wentworth! Don’t speak that way!” Throwing her hands in the air, she mumbled, “I miss the days when I could put you in time-out.”

“I don’t,” Trent chuckled, sliding into a seat. “You used to forget about me and I’d spend hours sitting in a corner. Some people would consider that child neglect, mom.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, fighting a smile.

“It’s true,” he grabbed a roll, slathering it in butter, and sticking half of it in his mouth. “And I’d hate for you to go to jail. Orange is definitely not your color.”

“You’re so kind to me,” Lily laughed, joining the rest of us at the table.

Ellie, Trace’s grandma, watched Trent with an amused smile. The Wentworth boys were one of a kind.

Sometimes it still blew my mind that Trace and Trent had grown up in this mansion and were so … normal. You’d think the kind of wealth they had would have gone to their heads, but the whole family was completely down to earth.

I nibbled on a piece of roasted chicken, trying not to moan in pleasure. Cecilia made the most delicious meals. Even Trace couldn’t top them.

Trace and I tried to have dinner with his family every week. It was something I always looked forward to. I’d heard horror stories from other girls about their boyfriend’s family not accepting them, but the Wentworth’s had taken me in with open arms from the moment they met me.

As the meal wound down and Cecilia brought out a homemade cheesecake, Trace cleared his throat.

“So—uhm—there’s something Olivia and I need to tell you guys,” Trace said, draping his arm across the back of my chair.

Everyone looked up in interest. I stared down at the table to avoid their curious stares.

“We’re going on a road trip. We leave Monday.”

Well dang, he didn’t waste any time sugar coating it. I waited with bated breath for the uproar that was bound to ensue.

I wasn’t prepared for what Lily had to say though. “Oh thank God,” Lily breathed, “for a second there I thought you were pregnant.”

I blushed, taking a huge bite of cheesecake so I wouldn’t have to say anything.

“Calm down, mom. No babies for like … another year,” he winked at me.

My eyes widened. A year? Was he crazy?

I began to choke on my cheesecake and he beat my back.

“A year?” I squeaked when I could talk.

“You never know,” he grinned.

To avoid a panic attack I ate more cheesecake. Yeah, that was better. I was sure cheesecake could solve all the world’s problems.

Trace slid his desert plate my way. Smart man.

“Where are you going on this road trip?” Lily asked with interest.

“North,” he shrugged. “I don’t know where we’ll stop along the way, but I thought maybe we’d head to the lake house and stay for a bit.”

“You should, it’s lovely there. I’m sure Olivia would love it. How long will you be gone?” She asked, taking a sip of wine.

“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.