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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.
I rolled my eyes. “Just as sure as I was the last ten times you asked me.”
“Just checking,” he chuckled, getting in the driver’s side. He patted the dashboard and said, “Let’s roll.”
Trent’s townhouse was surprisingly nice. I shouldn’t have been surprised though. Even before I came along, Trace’s apartment had been pristine and didn’t resemble the typical bachelor pad.
While the furniture and wall colors were of a masculine variety, nothing screamed that he was a college freshman living on his own.
A furry creature ran between my feet and I let out a yelp.
At my cry, Ace began to bark and tried to pull the leash from Trace’s hand so he could run after it.
