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“What the hell, Olivia?” He growled, hands on his hips as he paced the length of the room. “Why didn’t you tell me about that?” He pointed at my black eye.
“I knew you’d get mad,” I whispered, my eyes darting to the ground.
“Fuck yes, I’m mad,” he stopped in front of me, breathing heavily. “I wondered why it didn’t bruise. Turns out it did and you were hiding it from me.”
“It’s just a bruise,” I mumbled.
He shoved his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up wildly around his head. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he growled. “I should have—”
“You should have what, Trace?” I interrupted his tirade. “Stop and think for a second. There was nothing you could do to prevent this,” I pointed at my eye. “It wasn’t even really that guy’s fault. I fell, so what? Lots of people fall and scratch themselves or worse. I don’t know why you feel the need to make such a big deal out of it,” my voice grew heated. “I’m going to get hurt, Trace. You can’t bubble wrap me and send me out into the world.”
His lips quirked as he fought a smile. “I can try.”
“Let it go,” I sighed, letting my hands fall to my sides. “I have a black eye. You can’t wave a magic wand and make it disappear, so there’s no point in getting so worked up about it.”
“I’m sorry,” he took me into his arms, holding me close. His lips grazed the top of my head. “I overreacted and I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have.” My voice was muffled against his shirt.
Kissing the end of my nose, he told me, “Stay here. I’ll go get our bags and you can do what ever it is you’ve been doing to hide that,” he swirled his finger in front of my eye.
“It’s called makeup, Trace,” I laughed.
“Yeah, that,” he chuckled, backing out of the room.
I sat on the bed as I waited for him to return.
I looked around, still not quite believing that I was in my grandparent’s home. After my mom told me about my real dad, I’d never once thought about finding my grandparents. My mom had said they knew nothing of me, and since I was never one to put myself out there, it had never bothered me very much. Sure, I’d wondered about them, but I would’ve never had the guts to track them down. Leave it to Trace though.
He came back into the room and sat our bags down.
“I’m sure Dex and my grandpa wondered why you dragged me out of the room and upstairs,” I laughed.
“They probably thought I couldn’t control my animalistic male tendencies a minute longer and brought you up here so that I could ravish you,” he shrugged nonchalantly.
“Trace!” I giggled.
“I’m sure they were surprised when I came back down,” he continued. “With my pants on,” he added.
I laughed, not having a comment for that, and grabbed my makeup bag.
I headed across the hall to the bathroom and Trace followed me, leaning against the doorway.
He didn’t say anything as he watched me apply the makeup to hide the bruise. When I was done, he said, “Damn, that stuff is magical. I could use that to hide some of my scars,” he held his arms out. Pointing to one, he explained, “I got this one when my dad was teaching me how to ride a bike. He didn’t teach me how to brake, so when he let me go I had no clue how to stop.”
“Aw,” I frowned.
“It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I was a tough kid. Although, my dad wasn’t happy when I cussed like a sailor when he dabbed my cuts with alcohol. That stuff burns.”
I laughed heartily as I imagined a smaller version of Trace cussing at his dad. “Yeah, most parents wouldn’t be happy about that.”
I turned the light off in the bathroom and carried my makeup bag over to the bedroom.
When we made it back downstairs, Dexter and my grandpa were in the same spots we’d left them.
“Weren’t you going to build a birdhouse?” I asked my grandpa when I sat down beside him.
“I was,” he chuckled, “but now I have a granddaughter to get to know.”
