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When she puts it that way, it makes sense. “But what if he just hurts me again?” I voice my biggest concern. “I’m already fragile, Mom.” Emotionally and mentally.
“You won’t know unless you give him a chance.”
She makes a good point.
“Okay. I guess I’ll give him a chance and see how it goes.”
Two days later, I find the courage to text Trace on my lunch break.
Me: I’ve made a decision.
Trace: And it is?
Me: You can have another chance. We can date, and see if I can really do this or not.
Trace: Thank you.
Trace: Free tonight?
I laugh. Figures he’s going to try and move in as soon as possible. My day has been okay so far. Can I handle an evening with Trace? Before I can respond, I get a text from Rebecca. I texted her earlier to tell her that I’m giving Trace a chance.
Bec: Are you kidding me? No. Just no, Brittany. Don’t do it. He’s going to break your heart all over again.
Her response pisses me off. Yeah, I understand it and worry about the same thing. However, as often as she and Dustin have broken up and she’s given him another chance, who is she to tell me what I should do?
Me: You gave Dustin a chance every time. What’s the difference in me giving Trace one?
Impulsively, I text Trace.
Me: What time are you picking me up?
Trace: 6:30. Dress causal. We’ll be outside.
Bec: There just is!
I roll my eyes and don’t respond. I have a date to worry about. When I leave work, I will have just enough time to go home and change out of work clothes. I kind of like having to dress up a little for work. It’s such an adult thing to do. However, there are times when I wish I was still in college and could show up in sweats and a hoodie. I really am extremely lucky to have the boss I have. Belle Larkin is understanding. As long as my work is being completed within the timeframe needed, she has no problem accommodating me when I need it.
When I get home, I happily shed my clothes for shorts, a V-neck T-shirt, and sandals. There’s some time to spare after all, so I try to tidy up my apartment. It’s a disaster. All I manage to do before Trace arrives is put clean clothes on my bed and the dirty in the clothes basket. I decide to stuff some cash into my pocket and grab my phone and keys.
“Hey.” Trace smiles when I open the door. His gaze travels over me in appreciation. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
He waits patiently for me to lock my door before interlacing his fingers with mine. I want to pull away and tell him that he hasn’t earned that privilege yet, but I don’t. I don’t want to overreact. Besides, it feels ridiculously good. He still oozes comfort and strength. It irks me a little, to be honest. There’s no real reason why, I guess.
Trace opens the passenger door for me and then walks around to get in on his side. “Did you have a good day?” he asks.
“Yep. You?”
“Not too bad.”
“Where are we going?”
“Well, there’s a fair in town, so I thought that would be fun. Sound good to you?” He glances at me with a touch of worry in his gaze.
“Yeah, that sounds fine.” It sounds like a no-pressure place with a fun atmosphere where things can’t get too serious. It’s also a place where things can’t get too cozy or intimate. At least, I hope not. Whatever happens, I definitely do not want to jump into a relationship with Trace again. Not until I feel like I can trust him and us again.
The drive is quiet and slightly awkward until Trace asks, “Okay with getting something to eat there?”
