by M.A. Stacie
A grunt had her sitting up and staring around her bedroom. Trace mumbled as he slept in a chair at the foot of her bed. He’d placed it there on the first night, refusing to sleep in Lisbeth’s bed, and vowing to stay close to Shae. He wouldn’t allow her to cry alone.
Trace had been her rock. He was there when she needed him the most. Kate had called, texted her, and sent flowers. Many of her dance students had sent messages, too. Even Trace’s sister, Dale, had come to see her, bringing with her the most thoughtful of gifts. A carved wood memory box. Dale hadn’t needed to explain the gift, and that brought about a new wave of tears.
She appreciated every one of their messages and bouquets of flowers, but it was Trace who she found invaluable. It was he who stayed the night. Trace who made sure she showered and ate, and Trace who listened to her hurt while handing her tissues.
Lucian had telephoned once, asking if she wanted a loan from him to pay for the funeral. A loan. Her answer had been a wail of despair, followed by her ending the call. He hadn’t called back.
She looked over at Trace, studying him as he shifted in the chair. He must be uncomfortable, but he never complained. He hadn’t asked her for anything to keep him warm either. She’d given him a blanket anyway.
He grunted again, his nose wrinkling as his hair fell forward and tickled his skin. Shae smiled, the action feeling strange. It seemed like forever since she’d laughed, and the moment she thought that, her guilt rose.
She shouldn’t be smiling. Her mother had just died.
Trace mumbled, swatting at the tip of his nose. Shae climbed out of bed, her limbs protesting at the movement. Walking over to the chair, she kneeled down at his feet and placed her hand on top of his.
His eyelids fluttered, and he sat up suddenly, startled awake. Blinking, he looked around the room until his gaze rested on her. “Hey,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You were uncomfortable and shifting around in your sleep.”
“I’m fine. I’ve told you, I’m cool with the chair.”
“You lie.”
He gave a quick shake of his head before leaning closer to her. “Right now, my comfort means nothing. I’m here to make sure you get through the day. And night. I can cope with the chair.”
“I don’t want to be looked after like a child. I’m a bit screwed up right now. I know that, but I’ll get better. I’ll deal with it.” She swallowed back a whimper and gripped his hand tighter.
“Fuck, Shae. I’m not asking you to deal with it. It’s only been three days. You’re worrying about everyone else instead of focusing on you.” He stroked his thumb along her jaw. “I’ll be here for as long as that takes.”
“Why?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t the right time for that kind of conversation. She could do without another kick in the gut while she was down.
Trace’s gaze dropped from hers, bowing his head as he gave it a short shake. “What kind of friend would I be if I left you alone?” He gave a sharp inhalation. “You never pushed me aside. You were there for me. I’m offering you the same. All you have to do is let me.”
Shae settled more comfortably on the floor, resting her head in his lap. Trace began to comb his fingers through her hair as she spoke. “From the time I was small it was always my mom and me. I don’t remember a day that I didn’t see her. Even vacations were with her, never with my friends. She said I had to stay with her, or made me do it anyway. I just did it. I knew my mom. I knew she enjoyed the connection we had.”
“You two made a great team.”
A tear slipped across her face and onto his jeans. Trace was right. They had made a good team. “I always wanted to be like her. To me, as a little girl, she was so carefree. Dancing made her happy, so I’d watch her in complete fascination. There was no one else I wanted to be. She was my hero.”
Trace continued his gentle caress, and it did calm her, though the tears were not stopping. It felt good to be able to talk about Lisbeth. Her mom’s life had been full of laughter, fun, and vibrant color. Shae hated that it had faded to black at her death. Talking to Trace brought that rainbow back a bit. The memories of her mom swirling around the dance floor brought a little of Lisbeth back, too.
“My dad and I were always close,” Trace said. “Fishing was our thing. We would be on the boat all weekend. It changed when D came to live with us. Though to be honest, I had already started to pull away. Stupid teenage ideas that I shouldn’t have my dad as my best friend. Dad understood, and I think he liked it when D and I started to hang out. I guess she was a cooler version of him.”
Shae gave a small, bemused huff. “I bet she loves that analogy.”
“Doubt she has any idea. D’s like your mom—she forges her own path.”
“You two are so close. Not having a brother or sister, it does make me jealous.”
Trace’s hand stilled in her hair. “I’d crumble without her. That’s one of the reasons I’m here for you now.”
At any other time, she would have asked about the other reasons. Today she ignored it since she wasn’t prepared for the answer Trace could give her.
“Thanks,” she said. “You’ve been my shoulder without me asking for help.”
“Babe, asking was the last thing you had to do. You were shattered. I couldn’t have left you.”
Lifting her head, she turned her teary, green gaze on him. “Lucian did. He handed me to you as soon as he was able. You hadn’t even stepped into the house before he ran off. It didn’t concern him any longer.” She swiped at a tear. “You know he’s called just once. Once. What kind of man does that to his kid?”
“I don’t fucking know. I suppose some people see what I did with Tate as abandonment.”
“They are wrong, if they do.”
“Anyway, you don’t need him. I’m here, and so is Dale. Kate called again to talk to you. She left a message. You have enough people ready to help without relying on his crappy version of compassion.”
He was right, and she nodded her agreement as she stood. Her knees trembled, her head spinning as the lack of proper sustenance caught up with her. Trace squinted, watching her movements and cursing. “You need food. And by the look of you, you need some now. Let me make you a sandwich or heat up some soup.”
The care he gave her was turning her inside out. Each time he offered to do something for her, each time he listened to her cry, and each night he slept in that damn chair, she felt herself falling that much more. Now wasn’t the time, and yet she found it harder and harder to bury the truth.
She couldn’t stop it. She was no longer falling—Shae loved him.
There had always been a sensation that stirred within her whenever he was around, one that she had buried time after time. Living with those feelings had been fine, until this past week when Trace had been her friend.
Shae was unable to ignore the truth now.
It wasn’t the best of times to have her epiphany, and she certainly wasn’t about to verbalize it. She even questioned it herself. She was in an emotional vortex at the minute, and because Trace was the one keeping her afloat, it would be foolish to ignore that her feelings could be growing from that point. Even though there had been something there between them from the start. Because her head refused to think straight, she beat it all down.
She just had to get through each day.
“Food, Shae?” Trace questioned again.
“The thought of eating makes me feel sick.”
Cupping her face in his hands, he said, “I know. You still need to try. I can feel you trembling. You’re weak because you’re exhausted, and food will help.”
“In a bit.”
Trace cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the chair. He glanced across at the alarm clock, grimacing. “Damn, it’s early.”
“I think my body has had enough sleep.”
“Do you want to go downstairs and get started on some of that paperwork?” He linked his fingers into hers. Shae groane
d, closing her eyes as the stack of letters, forms, and general correspondence flashed into her head. It was scattered all over her kitchen table, waiting for her attention. Dealing with them seemed so final, but as reluctant as she was, Shae understood it had to be done.
Trace had helped her plan Lisbeth’s funeral. She was clueless about how she was going to get through that. His help there had been invaluable. The paperwork left was from the mortgage company, ownership of the dance studio, and bills to pay. It was all left for her now.
Opening her eyes, she stood up, making the decision to be stronger. She tugged Trace up, too. “It’s time I allowed you to go home.”
He smiled for the first time in days. It made her smile right back at him. “Kicking me out?”
“No.” She started to walk from the room, bracing herself by touching the wall when her balance faltered. “I shouldn’t be monopolizing your time. You have a life—a job.”
“Ah.” Trace touched her shoulder. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I have to work tonight.”
Her heart hammered against her chest as panic left her skin cold. Despising her reaction, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. She chastised herself for that weakness.
Trying not to give away her anxiety, Shae kept her tone even. “You don’t have to clear it with me. You need to work, Trace.”
“But it’s your mom’s . . .”
“Funeral . . . tomorrow. You can say the word. I can take it.”
He didn’t say it, just nodded his confirmation. “I’ll be here in the morning. I won’t let you go alone, Shae. I won’t.”
His conviction was fierce. He all but snarled the words. The man was so caring she wondered how his ex had ever been stupid enough to cheat on him.
“You’re not obligated to look after me.” She wished she hadn’t said it as soon as the words left her mouth. She stumbled on the stairs, Trace catching her to stop her fall.
“Yeah, because you don’t need looking after, right?” His reply dripped sarcasm.
Pushing away from him, she walked into the kitchen and flopped into a chair near the table. She hid her exhaustion from him. Well, she thought she had until he started searching around the kitchen, grumbling about her not listening to him. He handed her a bar of chocolate, demanding that she eat it.
“I’ll warm some soup. And you’ll eat that, too.”
“I don’t—”
“You will.” The blue of his eyes darkened. “If you want me to go to work and not call in sick, then you’ll eat.”
“Blackmailing me isn’t the way to go.”
Trace lifted his brows but stayed silent as he turned and picked a can of soup off the shelf. Shae contemplated arguing with him, but she couldn’t muster the energy.
“Do you want me to come back here after my shift?”
Shae thought, the little voice inside her head telling her to deny him. She was a big girl, and Trace wouldn’t always be around to hold her hand. Nevertheless, knowing all that didn’t stop her opening her mouth and saying, “Yes, please. I’ll wait up for you.”
He tapped the tip of her nose with a spoon. “You do that. Now get started on those letters, and I’ll help once this is ready.”
Her stomach growled as she grabbed the top letter of the pile. Signing them all would make her mother’s death so final.
But then, tomorrow would, too.
Chapter 22
Shae blinked through her tears, trying to see the faces of the many people offering her their sympathy. It would be good to know who had attended. She’d like to thank them, and for an instant, she thought about telling her mom. Then she realized the ridiculousness of that idea. Ridiculous and utterly impossible.
The entire day felt dreamlike, and no amount of wishing or pretending changed her situation. This day would be one she’d remember until the end of her own life. It felt too surreal to be her reality.
Beyond the buzzing in her ears, she could hear a man murmuring to the other guests. She should listen. She should take note of the nice things people had to say about Lisbeth. Her mom wasn’t the kind of person to make many enemies, so the people surrounding Lisbeth’s casket were friends. In fact, there were just two people who disliked Lisbeth: Lucian and his wife. Both were absent.
The casket was held firm over the ground, and Trace’s hand tightened around hers in support. He knew her enough to know she needed that extra bit of comfort. She hadn’t asked him to come with her today. She’d assumed he was going back to his apartment to get ready for his work at Metro, but an hour later, he reappeared in his black suit, ready to hold her hand through the toughest day yet. She would never be able to thank him enough for all he’d given her.
Turning her head, she took in his profile and the rigid set of his jaw. He wasn’t looking at the casket. Instead, his gaze stretched out over the crowd toward the road. His nostrils flared.
“Trace?” she muttered, knowing something was wrong.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Your father is here.” He squeezed his hand around hers again.
Shae followed his gaze with her own, noticing Lucian as he stood leaning against the side of his car. Her lips pursed before she turned back to Trace. “Forget about him. I’m not having my mother’s goodbye ruined by him.”
“I’ll try, babe. But that man irritates me. He’s a waste.”
“I know. Please look away. For me?”
As soon as she asked, he turned his blue gaze on her. The side of his mouth lifted upward in a very small smile. “Of course.” His smile disappeared. “Are you doing okay?”
Shae wrinkled her nose, not committing herself to a definitive answer. Not that Trace needed one. His question was there to remind her that she had someone to help her through the funeral. Trace knew she was just about holding herself together. All the guests could see that, too. She hadn’t stopped shaking since she got out of bed this morning, and she still hadn’t managed to eat a thing. Her skin had lost its glow, leaving a sickly complexion she wasn’t used to.
She hadn’t danced in days.
She had tried. But each time she turned the music on, she didn’t feel the vibe, and due to the lack of food, she didn’t have the energy either. The dance studio had been closed since the day Lisbeth had passed. Like the passion had died with her.
“Shae, would you like to say something?”
Shae blinked at the priest and gave a short nod. Everyone looked toward her as she took a step forward. She clutched at the single sunflower in her hand, hoping the shaking would stop long enough to say what she needed to. She didn’t want to crumble in front of these people.
“My mom would be pretty impressed with the turnout.” She ignored the uncomfortable bits of laughter and raised her voice. “She always wondered who would come to her funeral. She never realized how popular she was. She never understood how many people’s lives changed when they walked into the dance studio. My mom was my hero.” Her eyes stung and her throat tightened but she kept going. “Lisbeth Bennett had a zest for life that I can only hope to have. She saw the world differently from most people, and I like to think that was what made her so special. Each day was a new start to her, and each dance class was a joy. My mom brought so much happiness to so many people. That is her legacy.” She trembled. Trace placed his arm around her shoulder, though his warmth didn’t soothe her. “I have no idea what my life will be like without her, but I know how amazing it was with her. Remembering her vibrancy will help me. It has to.” She paused and took a deep breath. The teary looks people were giving her shook her composure. She struggled to recall what she’d planned to say, but the words swam around in her head and made no sense. She thought she could do this, thought the friendly faces and Trace would make her stronger, when they weakened her. They made her remember her mom. They reminded her just who she’d lost.
The one person who always had her back was no longer there for her.
She swallowed and did her best to compose herself for a few
more minutes. “When I was younger, I thought Lisbeth was magical. She danced around the room like Tinkerbelle, sprinkling her fairy dust wherever she went. I wished so hard to be able to move like her one day, and at times, became so frustrated that as she grew older, she grew more graceful. My opinion of her hasn’t changed with age. My mother was magical, but it wasn’t fairy dust that she sprinkled. It was happiness and smiles. I don’t know how I’m going to keep moving forward without her. She was the first person I spoke to when I woke up, and the last before I went to sleep.” Shae wiped a tear from her cheek and inhaled a ragged breath. “My life will never be the same.”
The silence that followed left her feeling uncomfortable and under scrutiny. People were staring at her, but not because they were confused. Each of the guests looked at her with sympathy. Many of them were crying tears of their own. Looking at them intensified her loss. Her knees buckled, and a few people gasped as Trace caught her. Shae sobbed, burying her face into his coat. She bit the material to stop her cries. No one would mock her tears, but that didn’t mean she wanted them all to see her breakdown.
Trace enveloped her in his arms, kissing her forehead and stroking her back. She was aware of the priest moving the service on, of him asking other people to speak and talk about Lisbeth. Their words were garbled, and she held on tight to Trace, needing his support more than ever.
When Maria Tolin began to speak, Shae wiped her face and paid attention. Maria had been one of Lisbeth’s first students. The dance studio had been open a matter of hours when a younger Maria had bounced through the doors and demanded she be taught how to twirl like a real ballerina. From that day, Maria and Lisbeth formed a friendship that sometimes made Shae jealous. Maria was closer to Shae’s age than Lisbeth’s but that never seemed to bother either of them. And now Maria was as heartbroken as she was.
The loss of Lisbeth would leave a hole in many people’s lives. Knowing that was a small comfort.
