The room fell silent, and then Nixon clapped. “Well done, you’ve finally shocked the hell out of him, Trace.”
I wiped my face and threw the wine-stained towel at Nixon’s head. “Whatever. Wash up, children, dinner’s almost ready.”
“Yes ma!” they all yelled as they went to set the table, leaving me alone in the kitchen yet again.
I leaned over the sink and told myself to keep the contents of my stomach inside, not out.
Brother? A freaking brother? Was she insane? Yeah, pretty sure I would never, ever think of her as family. She wasn’t family. She was—shit. She was everything.
Chapter Nineteen
Nixon
Well, that was awkward. Points go to Chase for not completely losing his shit while Tracey touched his forehead and then proceeded to tell him not to be an ass. If it hadn’t been my girlfriend he was crushing on—I may have found it funny.
But it wasn’t.
So instead, to rein in my anger I was clenching my fork and trying my damnedest not to bend it in half while we all sat around the table like a happy little family.
“So.” Mo dipped her bread in the olive oil in the middle of the table and stuffed it into her mouth. “Any updates, Nixon?”
I shrugged and poured myself another glass of wine. “Nothing helpful. I’ve been looking through all the accounts from the De Lange family. The same as always. We’re working on a hunch. We know my father didn’t kill anyone, but that’s it. We don’t know anything else, and now that Trace’s grandpa isn’t here it’s not like he can even help us. I mean, he’d die before we could even gain access to what we’d need.”
Trace dropped her fork onto the plate. “My grandfather?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed her back. “Trace, I’m sorry, it’s just, he’s the only one involved in this who wasn’t still watching cartoons and playing with toy soldiers when everything took place.”
She grimaced. “I wish I could be more help. I feel like everyone’s risking so much for me and I’m not even doing anything to make it better. If anything it’s worse.”
“Whatever.” Mo thrust her fork into the air. “Boots, things sucked before you came around. Nixon never smiled and I’m pretty sure if you hadn’t have shown up Chase would have gotten one of his professors preggo.”
“Thanks, Mo.” Chase flipped her off.
“Whatever.” Mo rolled her eyes. “This is our family. This is life, take it or leave it. If it wasn’t you it would be something else, so for right now we just need to focus on…” Her eyes darted to mine. In fact, everyone’s did. Right. No pressure.
“The past,” I said slowly. “We need to focus on the past.”
“Trace…” Tex leaned in and grabbed a piece of bread. “Do you remember anything about that night—?”
“Tex,” Chase snapped. “Leave her alone.”
Staying true to my ability to be a complete ass, I said, “I agree with Tex. Sorry, Trace, but we need to know. I know you were six, but do you recall anything at all? Any words your grandfather said to your grandmother? Anything in Sicilian?”
Trace looked down at her plate. “Guys, I wish I could help you but there isn’t anything—”
She jolted out of her chair and ran out of the room.
“Well done,” Chase snapped, “Cause her to have a nervous breakdown why don’t you?” He threw his napkin onto his plate and stood just as Trace ran back into the room.
“This!” She held a small book in her hand. “My grandma kept this with her all the time. She even slept with it at night. Before she died, she said she wanted me to tell their story. How her and my grandfather met, but… the thing is… although my grandfather gave it to me, he never gave me the key.”
“We don’t need a key.” I held out my hand.
Trace placed the small leather case onto my palm. It was secured with a pretty legit lock, but it was also really old. I pulled at the lock a few times.
Tex chuckled and said in a terrible impersonation of my voice, “We don’t need a key.”
I flipped him off and tried again.
“Idiots.” Mo sighed. “All of you.” She held out her hand. “Give me the book.”
“Pardon?”
“Give me the book.”
“What? You looking for a mirror? Mo, just let the guys take care of this one, okay?”
Trace slapped the back of my head so hard I could have sworn my teeth went numb. “Asshole, hand her the book.”
Cursing, I dropped it into Mo’s hands.
Tex chuckled. “Trace totally just proved her true heritage right there. I swear if I had a dollar for every time my ma smacked the back of my head—”
Mo did the honors that time, making Tex almost spill his wine as he caught himself against the table.
Tracey followed Mo to the breakfast bar, where Mo dug through her purse. She pulled out something small, and then fit it into the lock. Three seconds later she was dangling the leather book in front of my face. “You were saying?”
“Girls rule, boys drool?” I offered sarcastically as I snatched the book from Mo and turned to the first page.
“ ‘Secrets are hidden in our past—they define our future. This, my love, is our story. In these pages you will find all you need to know. All there is to know. Always my love—Grams.’ ”
“Well.” I turned the page. “That wasn’t cryptic.”
Everyone was silent as I turned to the next page and read aloud. “ ‘I saw him across the room—’ ”
Tex groaned.
Laughing, I continued. “ ‘I shouldn’t have looked, but I couldn’t help myself. He wasn’t mine to stare at, yet I was still staring. And I knew… I would have him and damn your grandfather to hell. Damn him for keeping it from me, and damn him for buying my silence. I would be with this man, I would get back at the Alferos in the name of my family’s honor—They destroyed what I had, and because of them, I refuse to keep my silence any longer.’ ”
I swallowed and closed the book. “Shit.”
“Maybe this isn’t the best thing to be reading…” Trace tried to grab the book but I snatched it away.
“We’ll read every damn page. Together, okay? But we need to know what she knew, Trace. I know we’re grasping at straws, but unless Phoenix talks or someone confesses, it’s all we have.”
Her gaze flickered to Tex’s, Mo’s, and finally Chase’s. He nodded at me and then placed his hand on Trace’s. “Nixon’s right.”
“Okay.” She squeezed his hand and then turned to me. “But we read it together, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
The book may as well have been a guest of honor. It sat on the table the rest of dinner earning curious stares from everyone, Trace included.
Finally, once we were done eating, I grabbed the book and nodded toward the wine. “Might as well make it a party.”
“Thank God,” Mo whispered. “I’m not sure I can make it through dirty laundry without wine and I know Trace is gonna need it. It’s her grandmother, after all.”
Trace smiled but didn’t laugh. We walked into the living room and sat down, each of us with a glass of wine.
“Who wants to read it?”
“I vote Chase.” This from Mo. “He always got straight A’s in reading class and I’ve always wondered why the teachers found his voice so alluring…”
“I was seven.” Chase glared.
“He started so young.” Tex put a hand over his heart. “Now read, bitch. I have a seven a.m. lab to look forward to.”
“Right away.” Chase saluted and picked up where I’d left off. “ ‘I followed him with every intention of propositioning him. I wanted to feel desire. Perhaps, the De Lange right hand man could give it to me?’ ” Chase choked and closed his eyes. “Yeah, feeling like a perv right about now.”
“Read!” everyone yelled in unison.
Chase cleared his throat and kept reading, “ ‘He went outside. He lit his cigar in the shadows, and then I saw another person walk
up. They exchanged pleasantries about the weather, and then he was handed an envelope. I remember thinking it was so strange, to be handed an envelope and not examine what was inside first? It meant they trusted one another. I had no way of knowing that the next day he would be dead. Nor that it meant my own husband would be blamed. My shame was exposed for all to see, for I had to tell everyone what I’d seen and why I saw it. I did not think he would ever forgive me. But he did and that’s why I’m writing this story. To explain forgiveness to you, Trace. So you understand, that when you read the final chapter of this story, it does not mean the end for your family or for his. It is okay for you to love him.’ ”
Shaking, Chase set down the book and laughed awkwardly. “Um, any chance your grandma was psychic or something?”
Trace’s mouth was still hanging open. “Um, no, no chance. What the hell?”
“Alzheimer’s?” Chase pleaded, ignoring Trace’s question.
“No.”
“High? Was she high a lot?”
“Chase!” I smacked him. “Seriously?”
“How else would she know?” Chase pointed at the book. “How else would she know about you—”
“That’s just the thing,” Mo piped in. “How do we know it’s Nixon she’s talking about? And not Tex? Chase? Any guy?”
“Good point.” I licked my lips and watched as Chase’s eyes lit up. Oh, hell no. “But”—I cleared my throat—“chances are, she’s just saying ‘him’ as an example, right? I mean, who knows.” Chase handed the book back to Trace.
“Right,” Trace whispered and held the journal close to her body. “I think we should all… go to bed. Maybe reading that first entry will help me remember?”
Tex yawned. “Fine, but if I dream of your grandma having sex, I’m coming into your room and firing a gun into the ceiling.”
“You do realize that the bathroom is directly above her bedroom?”
Tex shrugged. “So pray I don’t hit the toilet tank.”
“Gross.” Trace rolled her eyes while Mo hit him again and waved good night to everyone.
Leaving me, Trace, and Chase awkwardly looking at each other. Whoever said threesomes were a good idea was clearly deranged.
“I, um… I’ll just be in the room.” Chase brushed by me and jogged down the hall.
Tracey’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched him run away like a scared deer. “Is he okay?”
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“He’s not himself.” Her eyes met mine. “I mean, he’s acting like he hates me one minute, then the next it’s like he’s going to break down and cry. Chase never cries.”
“Chase never cries.” I tilted her chin toward my face. “He’s fine, I think the pressure’s just getting to him. After all, he’s trying to still pass his senior-year classes, protect you, and not have a nervous breakdown all before he turns twenty-two.”
“But why aren’t you acting that way?” Her face appeared so dejected. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that Chase was acting that way because he was a man in a tough spot. And she was only making it tougher. I wasn’t sure if I should just tell her in order to get her to lay off for a while, or just let things play out.
Her lips curved into a smile. “Something’s on your mind.”
“You.” I kissed her nose. “You’re always on my mind.”
“Good.” She hugged me and inhaled against my t-shirt. “Can we be together tonight?”
With a heavy sigh I shook my head. “Trace, I wish we could. I know our security is the shit, the house is on lockdown, we have men everywhere, but it’s a huge risk. If something happened and you were in my room and someone happened to see it was me and not Chase? Yeah, I’m not willing to take that chance.”
“Then why don’t I just stay in my own room?”
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Because, I don’t trust any of my men as much as I trust Chase. He would take a bullet for you without blinking.” Which both aggravated me and made me relieved. He’d do anything for her—I was counting on that loyalty to keep her safe from death—but from him? Jury was still out. At this point I didn’t trust anyone. I just knew that if Chase was taking care of the love of my life, at least I could sleep at night knowing she wasn’t in danger.
“But—”
I pressed my finger to her lips. “I love you. And I promise, this weekend, I’ll find a way for us to be together. Would you like that?”
“Yes!” She pointed her finger in my face. “But it better be a date. A real date, with real food, and fun and—”
“Stop trying to tell me how to be a man. Pretty sure I rock at the date stuff.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, because last time we didn’t get chased by men with guns.”
I shrugged. “First date bad luck. Nothing more.”
Her laughter was like balm to my damaged heart. “Fine, I trust you.”
“Do you?” I grasped her hand within mine. “Trust me?”
“With everything.”
“Your safety?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Your life?”
“Of course.”
“Your heart?” I whispered across her lips.
“You tell me, Nixon.” She dipped her fingers into my hair and pulled my head down to hers. Her mouth met mine in a frenzy. “You’re the one holding it.”
I sighed in relief and kissed her hard on the mouth, pushing her farther into the hall where we were hidden from any windows and blanketed in shadows.
“You sure you can’t stay with me?” She panted, reaching under my shirt and running her hands down my bare back.
“Believe me,” I growled, nipping at her lips, “if I stayed with you, the freaking President of the United States would know something was up. When I’m with you, Trace. That first time. It won’t be a damn secret. It won’t be something we have to hide from the world. It’s going to be life-altering, and you will be mine over and over and over again until the only word on your lips is my name. Got it?”
Her breathing picked up as she nodded and said in a hoarse voice, “Yes.”
“Good.” I exhaled. “Now I need to go take a cold shower.”
“Need company?” She winked and swatted my ass before walking off toward her room.
“Tease,” I called and went in search of some very, very cold water.
Chapter Twenty
Chase
I knew the instant she came into the room. It took exactly three seconds for her perfume to float from her body and into my personal hell.
I was lying underneath a giant white down comforter and trying to breathe in the smell of the laundry detergent.
“Chase?” she whispered.
Shit. I squeezed my eyes tightly closed and answered, “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Huh?”
The light was off so I couldn’t see her, but I knew she was close. Soon her cold feet were touching my legs as she got out of her bed and lay down next to me in mine. Thankfully, the comforter was creating a really nice boundary between her and my body. Otherwise… well, I would have probably died.
“For whatever I did to make you mad.” Her hand reached out to pat my arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Trace…” I groaned, “you didn’t do anything.” And that was the problem, wasn’t it? My pride was hurt a bit; that much was sure. But, part of me, a small part—or maybe a large part—thought we had something. A connection that she and Nixon didn’t have. What we’d shared over the past few months had been unique, different. I felt it and she didn’t. She shouldn’t be apologizing for being the strong one.
“Come here.” Suddenly I wasn’t so concerned with losing control. I was her friend, she’d put me in that zone, and the last thing she needed was for me to be an ass about her not loving me when her grandfather was stuck in hiding and her almost-rapist was chained to a chair on the grounds threatening to kill everyone. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” I
kissed her head and sighed when she wrapped her arm around my chest and tucked her head under my arm.
“What are you sorry for?”
Oh so many, many things. “Not being who you need me to be.”
“You mean like earlier when you were being a jackass in your stupid Betty Crocker apron?”
Chuckling, I squeezed her closer. “Hey, don’t hate on the apron. And yes, like earlier today. I guess… well I guess I’m just not used to all your hormones.”
“What?” Her voice bordered on murderous.
I laughed. “Trace, I’m just used to a lot more violence and killing, and here you show up with a cow keychain, a fetish for every damn squirrel on campus and the ability to make me laugh my ass off, regardless of if you mean to or not. You’re just…”
Amazing, she was amazing.
“Perfect, and your light kind of makes my darkness seem a lot more lonely.”
“But you’re with me twenty-four-seven?”
Yes, just another problem. “Right, but you aren’t mine. Get it? It’s like getting a present for Christmas only to find out someone’s going to take it away on New Year’s.”
“What kind of present am I?” Trace laughed. “Come on, you can tell me.”
“A bike.” I shook with laughter. “Because I would ride you so hard that you’d—”
Her fist knocked the wind out of my stomach pretty effectively, ruining the arousal I’d had going for me about fifteen minutes ago.
We lay there in complete silence for a while, and then she said in a sleepy voice, “Don’t leave me again, Chase. Please.”
“I won’t,” I vowed. “I swear.”
* * *
The next day didn’t suck so bad. First of all, it was Tuesday so it was lab day for Trace, meaning I got to sit and watch her learn how not to do chemistry. The girl really needed to decide on a major soon. Those Gen Eds were going to be the death of one or both of us.
“You can’t mix those.” I reached out and took the beaker away from her and set it near the Bunsen burner that, luckily, wasn’t currently on. Shit, at the rate she was going she was going to burn down the entire school.
With a sigh, she slumped onto her stool. “It’s official. I hate chemistry.”
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