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“No,” he answered immediately, “I don’t. I hate it. Bossing other people around is not how I want to make a living.”
“Then tell them.”
“I can’t,” he murmured. “I won’t disappoint them like that.”
“So, what? You’ll be miserable for the rest of your life?” I questioned him, trying to meet his gaze but he refused to look at me.
“Sounds about right,” he muttered.
“Trace,” I said his name sternly, “that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Yeah, well,” he pulled roughly at his hair, his burger long forgotten, “it’s what I have to do.”
“No, it’s not,” I countered. “We’re in control of our own destinies, Trace. If you don’t want to run the company, don’t do it. Simple as that.”
“And do what? Sell it? Put a stranger in charge? Gramps is dying, this is my responsibility now.”
“Gosh, you’re so stubborn,” I groaned. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re being ridiculous!”
“I’m not—”
“If the situation was reversed, you’d tell me I was being dumb,” I interrupted.
He clenched his jaw, having no comeback for that since he knew it was true.
After a few minutes, he let out a breath. “I have a lot to think about,” he mumbled, unable to meet my gaze.
“You do,” I replied, squeezing his hand, which I’d never released, “and I hope you make the right decision for you.”
The fire crackled and sparks flew through the air. I sat in-between Trace’s legs with my head lying against his chest.
“This is nice,” I murmured, “I’m glad we decided to stay for this.”
“Me too,” he whispered, his lips brushing over the scar my hair kept hidden. “There’s no lakes in Winchester to do something like this…but it’s not like that stops people from having bonfire’s. This is just…nicer.”
“Mhmm,” I agreed as his lips passed over my scar again. “Why do you do that?” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.
“Do what?” He asked, his chest rumbling against me.
“Touch my scar…” I paused. “Does it…bother you?” I tilted my face up to see his reaction.
“Is that what you think?” His brows furrowed together and he seemed shocked that I would come to that conclusion.
I frowned. “It bothers me,” I reached up, running my fingers along the bumpy scar on the back of my head, “so it’s understandable that it would bother you.”
“Absolutely not,” he shook his head forcefully. “You wanna know why I touch it? Why I kiss it?” He asked, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn’t decipher.
I nodded.
“Because,” he said forcefully, “it reminds me of what I almost lost and how precious life is.”
That hadn’t been the answer I’d been expecting…I don’t even know what I thought he’d say, but it hadn’t been that.
Continuing, he ran a finger lightly over the scar, making me shiver. “I watched you bleed out from here…and I knew then exactly what it means to be helpless.”
“Trace,” I breathed, reaching up to cup his cheek, but he caught my hand and kissed the palm.
“When I watched my dad get hit by that truck…there’s was nothing I could do. With you, I could do something, but I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing and that scared me more than anything.”
