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He sat down on the edge of his side of the bed with his back to me. I reached out, placing my hand on the smooth skin of his shoulder. The muscles in his back jumped at my touch. I had never seen him wound so tight before.
“Trace? Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?” I begged.
There was a thickness in the air, like what he was about to say was going to change everything.
After a minute, he turned to me. The light from the moon filtered into the room, shining on his face, and making the tears in his glimmer. My heart broke and my chest clenched. What was going on?
He reached out and cupped my cheek, gazing at me. “You know how Gramps has been grooming me to take over the company?”
I nodded.
Warren had taken him under his wing about a year ago. Trace still worked at Pete’s when he had the chance. He loved working on cars and didn’t want to miss out on that. But with his dad dead and Gramps fast approaching his seventy-fifth birthday, it left Trace to run the business. I knew Trace struggled daily with what was right. Did he tell Gramps he didn’t want the business? Or did he trudge on out of a sense of family duty and obligation? I hated that he had to choose. It wasn’t fair. I knew Trace was much happier living simply, not as some big CEO. But this was his family business, and he didn’t know if he was willing to hand it over to a stranger.
“I thought,” he swallowed, “I thought it was just because he’s getting older and wanted to retire, you know?” He pulled at his hair.
“But it’s not?”
He shook his head, sniffling. “Gramps has cancer.”
“What?!” I shrieked, sitting straight up in bed. I hadn’t expected those words to come out of his mouth.
“He didn’t want me to tell you,” he reached for my hand holding onto it tightly, “he hasn’t told anyone, except me. But I had to tell you, Olivia. I couldn’t keep this to myself. It hurts too much,” he admitted, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and looking away from me, ashamed of showing weakness.
“Cancer?” I squeaked. Tears clogged my throat and one cascaded down my cheek. Trace turned back to me, wiping it away with his thumb, his eyes full of sadness.
“It’s lung cancer,” he whispered, bowing his head. “The doctor’s given him anywhere from a few weeks to a few months to live.”
“No,” I shook my head, a sob crawling my throat. I grasped his forearm, needing something to hold me up. “No. That can’t be true.” I didn’t want to believe what he was telling me. I loved Trace’s grandpa like he was my own. The thought that he might not be with us much longer tore me up inside. A few weeks or even months was nothing. How could you make yourself say goodbye to someone you loved so dearly? Goodbyes were never easy, especially when they marked the end.
Trace wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him.
Ace grunted and jumped off the bed, unhappy at having his sleep disturbed.
I was angry with myself. I should’ve been the one comforting him, not the other way around. He rubbed his hand soothingly up and down my arm. A tear fell from his chin onto my cheek.
“No,” I said again, as if just by saying that word it would make what he’d told me not true.
But nothing could undo this.
He lowered himself until we were lying on the bed and I pressed my face against his bare chest, smearing my we
t tears along his skin.
He wasn’t okay.
I wasn’t okay.
And I wondered if we’d ever be okay again.
I woke up still in Trace’s arms. He was sound asleep, so I slipped from the bed carefully so I didn’t wake him. He needed his rest after the news Gramps dropped on him last night.
My chest clenched.
I couldn’t imagine a world without Warren Wentworth. There were some people that made the world brighter, and Gramps was one of them. Despite the amount of wealth he’d garnered he was still one of the most down to earth people I’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. He was special for so many reasons.
Tears sprung to my eyes.
Not again.
