Page 78 of Tracking Wolfe

I returned to my own site and quickly texted Gabe with an update.

Then I got into my car and drove to Jake’s Place.

19

WOLFE, EARLIER THAT MORNING

When I woke to an empty bed, my stomach dropped. The van was way too small to hide a grown man, so I knew Trace was no longer here.

It wasn’t until I rolled out of bed that I remembered that I’d agreed to spend the morning hiking with Jake.

Was that the reason Trace left? If so, fuck him.

I showered angrily and changed into hiking clothes. If Trace was going to be a chivalrous dick about it, then I might as well go on the damned hike instead of politely begging off.

But my annoyance wasn’t as strong as my desire to see and touch Trace, so I threw open the door to the van and started an angry stride toward his campsite, only to stop halfway when it became obvious Trace’s car was gone.

Well, fuck me.

And fuck him twice.

Just when I’d built up an impressive head of steam, I returned to the van and caught sight of a piece of paper on the driver’s seat.

Heading to Montrose to grab a bite and catch up on a little work. Text me later. I’d love to spend the afternoon with you.

—Trace

I let my shoulders fall in relief and grinned at the stupid scrap of paper like it was a winning lottery ticket. He wants to spend more time with me.

More than that, he was giving me space to deal with Jake by myself.

The message was followed by his phone number, I realized with a flash of fondness. As if I didn’t have Trace’s number memorized after all these years.

Trace had always been there for me when I’d called.

He was as steady as they came. Trustworthy and true. The kind of man who wouldn’t make a promise he couldn’t keep.

Suddenly, what I needed to do seemed incredibly clear. Starting by letting Jake down easy.

I knew he’d be hurt or jealous if I mentioned Trace, so I wouldn’t. I’d simply say I only wanted to be friends since I was headed home soon. No reason to get into the details. I didn’t owe him anything.

The coming conversation was enough to make my hands sweat, so when Jake drove up a few minutes later, I wiped my palms on the fabric of my hiking pants. “Hey.”

Jake was all smiles and easy humor as he opened his truck door for me. “You ready for a killer view minus the killer?”

“Actually,” I began. But then I froze when I saw my journal on his dashboard, scarred and well-loved in the morning sun.

“What… what are you doing with that?” I asked stupidly.

“Oh, that.” He shot me a sheepish wince. “Shay swiped it the other day when we were here hanging out.”

“What the fuck?”

“I guess she wanted to see if you had any music tips or whatever. But then she felt bad and fessed up. Asked me to return it since she was so embarrassed about the whole thing. She’s really sorry.”

On the one hand, it sounded like something a teenager would do, especially one with hero worship. On the other, the lack of respect from Shay surprised the hell out of me.

“Believe me,” he continued, all wide-eyed and sincere, “I’ve already had a big talk with her about how stealing is wrong, and stealing someone’s journal is exponentially wrong.”