Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (73 page)

I grabbed two water bottles and padded back to the guestroom. After today’s adventures, I was exhausted and the bed was calling my name.

Trace had stopped singing and I stuck my head inside Sarah’s room to find him asleep. Her small body was curled against his. I hurried to bedroom and came back with my phone, snapping a picture. Seeing Trace interact with Sarah … it was too adorable for words.

I climbed into the bed and fell asleep with a smile on my face. For the first time in a few weeks, I was genuinely happy.

“You made all of this?” I gasped as I stepped into the kitchen and saw the breakfast Rebecca had prepared.

“I don’t normally do all this,” she pointed to all the food prepared. “But I figured you could both benefit from a good home-cooked meal since you’ve been traveling,” she explained.

“Rebecca, you didn’t need to do all of this,” I shook my head. I’m pretty sure she’d made a bit of every breakfast food known to man. “Trace and I were just going to hit the road and get something to eat while we drove. We didn’t want you to go to all this trouble.”

“It wasn’t any trouble at all. I love to cook, but my kids only ever want to eat Pop-Tarts so I don’t get the chance very often,” she said as she flitted around the kitchen, putting food on plates. “Grab one, help yourself,” she smiled.

“Thank you for doing this,” I smiled kindly as I took a plate and glass of orange juice she’d already poured.

“No need to thank me.”

I pulled out a seat at the kitchen table and sat down.

Trace came into the room with Sarah clinging to his back like a monkey, her giggle filling the air.

He’d never come to bed last night and when I woke up, I found him in the same spot he’d been when I went to bed. Sarah didn’t appear to have moved either. It was one of the cutest things I’d ever seen.

“What do you want to eat?” Trace asked her.

She tightened her arms around his neck. “I want that plate,” she pointed to one that had scrambled eggs with cheese on it.

“You got it, princess,” he grabbed that plate and one for himself, carrying them over to the table. He went back for orange juice and finally sat down. Sarah had released his neck, but instead of sitting in her own seat, she sat on his lap.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and snapped a picture of the two of them.

A sleepy-eyed Jamie strolled into the kitchen. He frowned at the food. “Mom, I don’t want—”

“Here’s a Pop-Tart,” she handed him a pack before he could finish speaking.

He took it from her and scurried over to sit beside me.

“Manners, James,” Rebecca scolded. “What do you say when someone gives you something?”

“Thanks, mom,” he mumbled, ripping open the packet.

“Mmm, something smells good,” Marcus rubbed his stomach as he stepped into the kitchen. He kissed Rebecca on top of the head and her eyes closed as a small smile graced her face. “Thanks, Becks,” he took a plate from her.

They joined us at the table and Rebecca shook her head when she spotted Sarah in Trace’s lap.

“You’d never believe that she’s normally wary of strangers,” Rebecca told me. To Trace, she said, “You’re a natural.”

Trace smiled at Sarah. “I like kids and they like me.”

I snorted. “That’s because you act like a kid yourself.”

“Exactly,” his eyes sparkled. “There’s nothing wrong with never growing up.”

“Don’t go getting any ideas,” Rebecca warned her son when he brightened at Trace’s words.

Jamie frowned, his small shoulders slumping. Being a kid though, he quickly got over it. Looking at me, he asked, “Are you going to live with us now?”

I tried to hide my smile. “No, Jamie. We’re leaving today,” I explained.

“Oh,” his frown deepened. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Me neither,” Sarah chimed in, hugging her arms around Trace’s neck. “Stay! Stay!”

“Sorry, princess, but we can’t,” Trace tucked her small head under his chin.

“No,” she began to cry. “Don’t leave.”

Trace rubbed her back soothingly, looking at me with panic stricken eyes.

I was more clueless than he was. I’d rarely been around small children growing up and had no idea what to do with the tear-fest.

“Please, stay,” Sarah pleaded. “You can live in my room. My dolls won’t care.”

Trace chuckled, and pried her arms from his neck so he could look into her wide brown eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I have to go home to my family.”

“But,” her lower lip trembled as she fought more tears, “we can be your family.”

“I know you could,” he comforted her, “but my mom and brother would miss me. You don’t want that, right?”

“No,” she shook her head, dark brown ringlets brushing against her shoulders. She looked at her own parents, as if thinking about how they’d miss her.

“Don’t forget about me,” she placed her head against his chest.

“Never, princess,” he kissed the top of her head. “That would be impossible.”

I never knew it could be so hard to say goodbye to people you’d just met. But it was. I was sad to leave Marcus and his family.

“Thank you so much for everything,” I hugged Marcus and Rebecca. “If you’re ever in Northern Virginia, call us.”

“We will,” Marcus assured me.

“Bye, Jamie,” I bent slightly to hug the boy.

“Are you going to visit us again?” Jamie asked.

I shrugged. “You never know.”

“I hope you do.”

“I hope so too,” I smiled, meaning it.

“Bye, Sarah,” I said to the girl, but she was too busy sobbing into Trace’s shoulder to hear me. I swear I saw tears in Trace’s eyes too.

Finally, Marcus pried Sarah from Trace’s arms so we could get in the car. Sarah clung to her dad as she sobbed. Trace bowed his head and ducked into the car.

“Bye guys,” I said one last time.

Trace didn’t waste any time in pulling away.

I looked over at him. “Are you crying?” I gasped.

“No,” he turned his face away from me.

“Liar.”

“There’s something in my eye,” he defended.

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. “That’s the oldest excuse in the book. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

“I—” He shrugged, floundering for words. “I feel bad. I didn’t think she’d be that upset by us leaving.”

“She likes you, of course she’s upset. She’s only six,” I reasoned.

“Yeah,” he gripped the steering wheel, “but I don’t want to be responsible for breaking a six year old girl’s heart.”

I laughed. “It’s your own fault. You’re too charming for your own good. I’m pretty sure everyone falls in love with you on sight.”

“It’s the scruff,” he rubbed his jaw. “No one can resist the power of my facial hair.”

“It is pretty amazing,” I reached across and rubbed his cheek.

“So,” his brows furrowed as he became serious, “where do you want to go next? I’ve picked the last three places, so I think you deserve a turn.”

“Hmm,” I pondered. “I really want to see the Statue of Liberty.”

He grinned. “Done.”

A few hours later we parked in New Jersey and rode the subway into New York City. I didn’t like the subway. At all. There were some strange people on there, but Trace had insisted that we ride it for, in his words, “experience’s sake.” Whatever. That was one experience I could’ve done without. There was one man that wasn’t wearing any pants. When we finally got off the subway, I dug Germ-X out of my purse and drenched my hands in its gooeyness. Trace watched me with a raised brow, fighting a smile.

“Here, take some,” I shoved the bottle in his hands.

“Nah, I’m good,” he leaned casually against the wall, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“If you ever want me to touch your hands again, you’ll use it,” I warned him.

“Fine,” he took the bottle from me, squirting a small amount in the palm of his hand.

“More than that!”

“Woman,” he groaned, adding some more. “Does this suffice?”

“That’s better,” I eyed the amount in his hand.

After I was sure that every germ on our hands had been killed, I followed him up the stairs, careful not to touch the railing, and outside.

I dug sunglasses out of my bag and put them on.

“Which way do we go?” I asked.

“Give me a second,” he muttered, looking for a map. When he found one, he studied it for a moment before saying, “This way.”

I had to jog to keep up with his long-legged stride. “Slow down,” I pleaded. “I’m short.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled.

“Thanks,” I croaked when he slowed. “My throat hurts from all the singing,” I groaned. The whole drive here, we’d been singing along, non-stop, to Trace’s road trip playlist.

“That’s because you don’t sing enough. You should change that. Your voice is beautiful,” he mused.

“You’re only saying that to be nice,” I rolled my eyes.

He stopped, grabbing my arm to halt me. “Olivia, I would never lie to you. It’s not a part of my personality. If I thought you sounded like a dying cow, I’d tell you. I’m honest like that.”

“That’s so comforting,” I snorted.

“It should be,” his lips spread into a smile. “Now come on,” he took my hand, “we have to hurry so we don’t miss the ferry.”

“Ferry?” I squeaked. “You mean we have to get on a boat thing?”

“Um, yeah,” he looked at me peculiarly. “Is that a problem?”

I gulped. “I—um—get really sea sick.”

He chuckled. “You mean to tell me, that you’re not afraid of heights, but a boat is what gets your stomach in knots. Interesting.”

“It’s a legitimate illness!” I complained. “One time, we went on a fishing trip when I was younger, and I spent the whole time throwing up over the side of the boat.”

“Olivia,” he said my name calmly, “it’s the Statue of Liberty. It needs to be appreciated up close. Not from far away.”

I shook my head rapidly back and forth. “No, no. I can’t do it.”

He eyed me for a moment. “Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder caveman style.”

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned him, walking away. “You’re not getting me on that boat—ferry thing.”

“How did you think we got to the statue if you didn’t know we had to take the ferry?” He asked, fighting a smile.

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I never thought about it. But I’m not getting on the ferry.”

I was already nauseous at the thought. I spotted a bench and snagged a seat, breathing deeply in and out, hoping to settle my rolling stomach.

“Olivia?” Trace questioned, squatting in front of me, his hands on my knees. “Are you okay?”

“Give me a minute,” I warned him, taking another deep breath.

Anyone that had never experienced motion sickness of any sort would think I was crazy, but just the
thought
of stepping on a ferry had me feeling sick. I
couldn’t
do it.

I slowly brought my head up to meet his worried gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asked, smoothing his thumbs over my cheeks.

“As long as I don’t get on the ferry.”

“No ferry,” he grinned. “I would never make you do anything you absolutely didn’t want to do.”

“You made me jump off a bridge!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But that’s because I knew, in the end, that you’d love it. It’s my job to push you out of your comfort zone.”