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Who knew if they really would, but it was a nice sentiment.
All that was left after Agnes’s talk was the final farewell from Bud. Then the participants would head out. The remaining volunteers would pack up leftover supplies. Rented and donated equipment companies had already started arriving to collect their items. Perishables would be donated and anything they could use for the next event would be boxed up and labeled in plastic bins.
Trace and Chrissie planned to help break down the medical station, so they would get to spend a little more time together. But every second seemed like sand falling faster and faster through an hourglass that would separate them forever.
Because despite how wonderful the past twenty-four hours had been, no matter how wonderfully sweet and tender Trace had been that last time he’d made love to her just before dawn, she didn’t fool herself that it was anything more than exactly what they’d agreed to.
A no-strings weekend affair.
In just a few hours, they’d say goodbye. She’d go home. He’d leave for parts unknown again or whatever it was he planned to do with the rest of his life.
The end.
She didn’t regret their weekend.
Far from it.
Despite the nagging ache in her chest, she was grateful she’d been given the opportunity to get to know Trace better, that this time they’d talked during those long hours about things besides, “Oh, that feels so good!” Not what had happened to him to cause the scar, as he’d brushed off her questions each time she’d asked, but they had talked about a lot of things. She was grateful that if Joss ever asked about his father she could smile and tell him about a man she knew cared about others and made a difference in the world.
A man she wished Joss could know firsthand.
Not going there, she repeated over and over in her head. They’d agreed to a no-strings-attached weekend. He’d said he didn’t want children four years ago and he’d repeated the sentiment to Chloe’s mother. To tell him would be selfish.
Would be risky, the fear that lurked within her added.
“What are you thinking?”
She cut her gaze to the man occupying her thoughts and went for the truth. Mostly.
“That you and I will be saying goodbye in a few hours.”
His expression tightened, then he seemed to make a quick decision. “We don’t have to.”
Her heart skipped a beat. What was he saying?
“You could stay in Atlanta tonight,” he suggested, excitement glittering to life in his eyes. “I could take you somewhere nice for dinner and we could spend the evening together.” His gaze searched hers. “The night.”
Oh, how he tempted her.
But she’d only made arrangements with Savannah to keep Joss until this evening. Plus, she missed her little boy.
She needed to get back to Chattanooga, to her life there.
She looked into Trace’s face and saw so much of her son there. Same eyes, same straight nose, same strong chin. Same stubborn determination.
What would he think if he knew they’d had a son together?
That they had a beautiful three-year-old little boy who was the spitting image of him? Would he want to know Joss? Would he care? Or would he take off for parts unknown without batting an eyelash?
What if he took Joss from her? Her father had never wanted her and he had still tried to take her. Not that Trace was anything like her father, but once upon a time her mother had believed in her father, too.
Panic filled Chrissie and she shook her head.
“No, we can’t spend the night together?” he asked, misinterpreting her head shake.
She wasn’t staying, wasn’t going to call Savannah to beg for one more night. Her friend would say yes, but...
“I need to go home, Trace.”
