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That, I do believe, is a lie because we ate at the bowling alley between games. I can’t believe she’s going home with him already! But then, I don’t really know Melissa too much outside of the office yet. I decide to listen to Rebecca’s voicemail once Trace gets close to his house.
“Hey, was calling to see what was going on. I ran into Quinn and he said you kicked him out because Trace showed up. What the hell is going on? I can’t believe you would do that after I went through the trouble of making sure Quinn was there. Just call me, so we can catch up.”
I didn’t run into Quinn by chance? Why in the hell would she think I’d want him back? I hadn’t talked about him. I talked about Trace! And, what? She thought I was back with Quinn since I went home with him and since she found out I’m not, she wants to chide me and tell me I’m wrong for wanting to work things out with Trace? Our friendship has been steadily declining since she got back with Dustin after we graduated. Not to say he’s the cause, but I do feel like he changes her. We’re not good friends now. I don’t feel like I can count on her anymore. Not to mention that I have never told her what to do with her relationship with Dustin. I listened, I gave advice if she asked, and I was there for her no matter what.
“Let’s check on Lily,” Trace tells me as he pulls into his driveway.
“Okay.”
We get out of the car and Ben says, “We’ll see y’all later.”
“Are you sure about this?” I quietly ask Melissa.
She grins. “Yep. I’ll call you tomorrow with details.” She gives me a quick hug and then they’re getting into his car and leaving.
I follow Trace into his house. Lily’s tail is wagging miles a minute as she runs over to me.
“I knew she could get you to smile.” Trace’s statement causes me to look up at him, questioningly. “Your demeanor changed after you were on your phone. Want to talk about it?” he asks as Lily leaves me to walk through her doggie door in the back door and I stand upright.
“Maybe.”
“Come on.” We move into the living room and have a seat on the couch. “What is it?”
I’m not even sure we should talk about it because that means talking about what happened. Trace patiently waits. I take a deep breath. “Last week, Rebecca wanted to meet for drinks to catch up, which is where I ran into Quinn. She kind of helped push away my doubts about leaving with him, but she found out what actually happened and she wanted to call and bitch at me for it. She’s anti-Trace, even though she’s taken Dustin back every single time he left her. On top of all
that, turns out, she told Quinn to show up that night. I don’t know where I’m going with this,” I finish, ready to stop talking about it.
Trace’s lips are in a firm line. “She does know drinking is bad for you, right?” I nod and he shakes his head. “So, she’s not very supportive is basically what’s bothering you?”
“I just…we don’t really connect anymore, and it pisses me off that she went behind my back to push me toward Quinn. I don’t want him. I mean, he wasn’t a bad boyfriend, but he wasn’t a good one for me.” My eyes stray over to his recliner. I wish I could sit in it and absorb its comfort, though I bet it’s not the same without Trace in it as well. Needing a break, I stand and say, “I’ll be right back.”
My intentions is to disappear into the bathroom for a second, but my feet lead me to the threshold of Trace’s bedroom. Instead of seeing his California King bed, his dresser, and his lonely nightstand, I see memories of our fights, of our bad days, of our good days, of the times we made love, of when he’s talked in order to bore me to sleep. I see our relationship come together and then fall apart. I see his time without me in how his sheets are rumpled only on one side of the bed. I’m reminded of our issues by the two pill bottles on his nightstand.
Tears form and glide down my cheeks. I wipe them away as I hear Trace’s footsteps, but I’m unable to face him.
“What’s wrong?” Trace asks from next to me.
“How can we get back to that?” I motion toward the bed as if all my memories are floating around for him to see. “To us. I’m still not sure that we can,” I confess.
He pulls my hand away from my wrist; I didn’t even realize I was squeezing it. “We can and we will. It’ll take time and will probably be hard, but well worth it.” His hand glides up my arm to my shoulders and he nudges, so I’ll face him. “I need to ask you a question.”
I swallow hard and do my best not to let those words send me into a panic attack. “What?”
I almost expect him to drop his hands to my hips and pull me against him, but he doesn’t. He rests his forehead against mine. Those hazel eyes staring into the deepest pit of my soul. He takes a deep breath.
“I hate what you almost did. I hate what I did to you. I hate that you hurt for so long and were struggling so much. I know you don’t trust me as much as you used to. However, I think we’re focusing on the past too much. My question is, do you think you can trust me enough for us to start over with a clean slate? We can talk anything and everything out tonight that you want, but then we close the door and move forward once and for all. Can we do that?”
He’s essentially asking for my full trust again. Right this very second. Should we talk about this now that I’m no longer seething with rage and yelling my responses? Is a clean slate even possible? This is Trace I’m talking about. He’s easily proven that he’ll do anything to make us work.
The question is, will I?
Thirty hard, slow, thumping heartbeats pass. She’s going to say no. She can’t do it, not yet. If it’s possible for my heart to fracture further, it does. I start to lift my forehead from hers, but she reaches up and grasps my cheeks.
“We can do that,” she whispers.
I want to grin, but it’s too soon to say we’re a success. We still need to talk. “Thank you,” I reply softly, pressing my lips to hers for only a moment. “Let’s go back to the living room.”
She nods and soon, we’re back on the couch. I don’t have to glance down at her hands to know she’s nervous. Hell, I realize I’m a little nervous myself when I catch her gaze on my hand, clutching the back of my neck.
