Beautifully Damaged (19 page)

"I am, yes."

I walked through the doors out into the sunshine just as Trace said, "Look up, beautiful."

And when I did, there he was, resting against his bike with a big smile on his face.

"I love you, Trace Montgomery."

"Ah, love, I really like hearing you say that."

The festival was wonderful but the company, Trace and Trent, was even better. Trace offered me the use of his office so on Sunday, after Trace went to the gym, I made my way to the room at the end of the hall. I pushed the door open and then found my feet just stopping since there on his desk was a new laptop with a big red bow on it. My journal, which I had taken to the festival to jot down notes, was sitting next to the laptop and a beautiful Tibaldi pen rested on top of it. I felt the tears as I moved around the desk and settled in the chair as I ran my hand lovingly over the computer. Demons or not, there was a wealth of love in that man. I then noticed a note sitting next to my journal.

Ember,

The man at the shop set it up with all of the requirements that your Mr. Baker recommended.

Your ID is EmberLove and your password is Mine. Have fun.

Love,

Trace

Was it any wonder why I loved that man so much?

I lifted the lid of the laptop and got to work. I was at it for over two hours when I needed a break. I moved to stand but as I turned in my chair, I accidentally hit my pen sending it over the edge of the desk. As I moved to catch it, I noticed a slip of paper on the floor. I retrieved the slip and happened to glance at it and noticed it was a bank deposit slip. My eyes widened to the size of saucers to see the balance in the account. Growing up, my dad was lucky if his savings hit four digits but Trace's account was well into seven digits. I just stood there transfixed having never seen that much money before except in board games. When the initial shock wore off, I placed the slip on the desk and tried not to think about it. Trace's finances weren't any of my business but a little voice in my head wondered how an amateur fighter made that much money.

That night, Trace and I sat in the living room watching the news, well, we weren't really paying any attention to the news but it was on in the background. I straddled his lap as I pressed kisses on his face.

"Did I thank you for the laptop?"

"Repeatedly, and you are welcome to continue thanking me."

I spread kisses down his neck as my hands reached for his shirt so I could lift it up and over his head and then I took a moment to really appreciate his very fine form.

"God, I love your body."

My hands couldn't help reaching out to run over his chest, down his abs, up his arms and over his shoulders. I moved my eyes from my exploration of his magnificent body to his face only to see that his eyes had turned dark with desire before he offered in a hoarse voice.

"Don't stop there, sweetheart."

I blushed and felt my face tint all the way to my hairline but Trace's expression never wavered as he took my hand and moved it down his body to the large bulge pressing against his jeans. My eyes held his as I rubbed him but it wasn't enough so I flicked the button on his jeans and unzipped him, slowly, before my hand sought and found him. His eyes closed on a moan as I ran my hand up the length of him, twisting slightly as I reached the tip. It was very empowering to render this incredible man weak with need but I affected more than just him. I was about to rectify that when something on the news had Trace's eyes flying open before he physically lifted me from his lap. His eyes burned holes into the television and then he was standing, zipping up his jeans and pulling on his t-shirt.

"Trace?"

"I need to go out."

And then he was gone.

I sat there in mild shock wondering what had just happened. I turned to the television and reached for the remote to rewind the story that had caused such a reaction in him. Some local, Charles Michaels, announced his intent to run for Senate. I sat back on the sofa resisting the urge to scratch my head. Who the hell was Charles Michaels and why did Trace react so strongly to news about him?

After the news story about Charles Michaels, Trace started to change. It was little things at first like forgetting to call if he was going to miss dinner but as the days turned into weeks, the changes in him were more significant. He was staying out longer and fighting more often but it was the wall that he was building between us that worried me. The man I fell in love with was disappearing and any attempt I made at getting Trace to talk about it proved pointless. At night he was the complete opposite -- loving me with such intensity that it almost felt like desperation -- as if each night was our last. I knew Charles Michaels was the catalyst for the change in Trace but he refused to discuss it.

I tried to learn more about this Charles Michaels by Googling him but outside of learning he was a shrewd businessman and borderline dirtbag, I couldn't find any link to Trace. There was someone I knew, my Uncle Josh, who could dig deeper but I had to talk to my dad first since they hadn't spoken to each other in a really long time.

Regardless of what was going on in Trace's head, I wanted to assure him that I wasn't going anywhere. Two weeks after he so abruptly left the apartment, I realized whether we stayed together perhaps wasn't and never had been up to me.

Trace was gone again and with my assignment done, I was growing tired of my own company so I decided to take a walk. It was colder and Christmas was right around the corner so I bundled up in my coat, hat and gloves and went on my way. The walk felt good; the brisk air was oddly refreshing.

I walked for almost an hour and decided to grab some lunch at a cafe that Trace favored. I was just on the other side of the street from the little bistro and was about to cross but stopped when I recognized part of a couple in the front window. Even from my distance I knew it was Trace; I'd know that man anywhere but it was the brunette sitting across from him that had all of the air leaving my lungs. They were leaning into each other in a very intimate way with very clear affection on their faces for one another but it was his hand stretched across the table holding hers that hurt the most.

I just stood there and stared at them feeling like an outsider as tears streamed down my face. I turned from them and started walking aimlessly as heartbreak warred with anger because I loved him and wanted to be with him but I wasn't about to play second chair to another.

I hadn't realized how long I was out until the sky started to turn dark so I hailed a cab and headed home. I entered the apartment greeted by the sight of Trace pacing the apartment like a caged panther. The expression on his face when he turned and saw me was one that I will never forget. He looked broken but when he spoke there was anger.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Sorry, I went for a walk and didn't realize how late it had gotten."

He just stood there like he was rooted to the floor. I could tell he was holding himself back presumably because he didn't know what he would do if he got his hands on me: hug the breath out of me or put me over his knee. I found his reaction to be so very odd particularly since the image of him and that woman was still burned onto my brain. My own temper sizzled just below the surface as I held his gaze and asked, "Where were you?"

I saw it for just a second, guilt, before he said, "I was at the gym."

"The gym." A profound sense of disappointment and a stabbing pain in the vicinity of my heart consumed me at that betrayal. I felt the tears burning the back of my throat as I started for the room down the hall.

"Ember?" His voice was so soft -- tender even -- but I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye when I spoke.

"A self-fulfilling prophecy. I never really understood that concept because I never really believed it was possible. I mean the idea of not wanting something to happen so much that you end up acting in a way that brings about exactly what you hoped wouldn't come to pass, how absurd." And then I lifted my eyes to his worried ones before I added, "I don't find the concept that absurd anymore."

I held his gaze before I whispered, "I don't care what secrets you have because the man you've become stems in part from those secrets but I hate what holding onto them is doing to you."

I wiped at my eyes before I started from the room. "I'm going to bed."

I was surprised when later that night Trace joined me in bed and more that he proceeded to love me so completely and sweetly. And after he held me close and as I started to drift off to sleep he whispered something I wasn't sure I was suppose to hear. The words and how he said them stuck with me because they sounded more like a goodbye instead of a vow of love.

"In my life I will never love anyone like I love you."

Two days later found me alone again when there was a knock at the door. I opened it and was surprised to see Rafe standing there.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure. Trace isn't here. I don't actually know where he is."

Rafe stepped over the threshold and shrugged out of his coat before hanging it on the coat stand.

"What brings you here, Rafe?"

He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as he rolled back on his heels.

"I'm worried about Trace."

"Join the club. We can talk in the kitchen while I make some coffee."

He followed me down the hall before settling at the counter. While I ground the beans, I turned fully to him.

"What else am I not seeing?"

"He's fighting every night, multiple fights, but he isn't doing it for the love of it like usual. There's something fueling it."

I poured the water into the coffee maker before adding the filter and beans. I set it to drip and moved to join Rafe at the counter.

"Do you know Charles Michaels?"

Rafe's reaction was subtle but definite; he knew something but when he answered he downplayed it. "The man running for Senate? No, why?"

"Trace's odd behavior started on the night when he heard about that man on the news."

Rafe was silent for a minute and when he did speak I got the sense that he wasn't talking to me. "What the hell?"

"I wish I could tell you more but he's never here, Rafe. He barely even sleeps here." I felt the tears so wiped at my eyes.

"What, Ember?"

"I saw him the other day having lunch with a woman and it was very intimate."

"What?! Did you ask him about it?"

"I asked him where he was and he said he was at the gym."

"Son of a bitch."

"Every attempt I make to talk with him only pushes him farther away from me." I held Rafe's gaze as mine turned blurry from unshed tears. I voiced my deepest fear. "I can't make it work if he's unwilling to try."

Rafe's grip on my arms was gentle, but firm, and his voice emphatic when he said, "He loves you, Ember."

"Maybe he does but I'm losing him."

"You can't give up."

"I'm not the one who's giving up, Rafe."

Three weeks after the news story on Charles Michaels, the Trace with whom I fell in love was mostly gone and in his place was a stranger. He was never home except for very late at night and even that was rare. On most nights, I would not sleep, lying awake in bed worrying over him. When he did come home, I would feign sleep because it seemed that only while I slept would he still hold onto me both figuratively and literally. The sound of his heavy footsteps down the hall would make my heart pound because I knew he would enter the room and quietly undress before climbing into bed and holding me close. I'd feel his breath against my neck and the soft kisses that he'd place there, as he buried his face in my hair and breathe me in. It was during those precious moments that I knew, regardless of what was going on with him, his feelings for me hadn't really changed.

It was because of that revelation that I sought him out during one of his fights. The small gym was packed with people standing around the ring waiting for the fight to start. I immediately spotted Trace standing in the center of it all. Women were huddled all around him but rather than being indifferent, Trace was actively flirting. I couldn't help but think of that woman from the bistro. How many others had there been? I never would have believed that he was stepping out on me but it was hard to ignore it when you could see its evidence with your own eyes. A month before, I wouldn't have hesitated to work my way through that crowd and stake my claim on Trace but the man he'd become in the prior few weeks was just not someone I knew anymore. I turned to leave when Rafe walked over to stand at my side.

"Ember, I'm really glad you came."

"I'm wishing I hadn't."

"Why?" and then he looked to where Trace was and seemed to answer his own question.

"He loves you, Ember. I understand why you might doubt it but he does -- wildly so."

"I really believed that once. I'm just not so sure any more."

"He's pushing you away just like I told you he would. Don't let him."

"He's not the same man and I know that there's more to his story but since no one seems willing to share it with me, I'm not really seeing the point in my fighting when the one I'm fighting for isn't interested any longer."

Rafe's expression was incredulous as he asked, "You don't honestly believe that, do you?"

"I do, yes."

"Talk to him, Ember."

I really couldn't see the point but I agreed anyway. Rafe reached for my hand and squeezed.

"I'll get him."

I watched as Rafe made his way through the crowds. He leaned into Trace to whisper to him after which Trace's head snapped up. I watched as those eyes turned to me before he moved from the crowd and made his way to me. He reached for my hand as he started to pass me and pulled me with him down the hall until we were in what I assumed was the office of the gym's manager. He closed the door and leaned against it. He studied me with eyes that were dark but from what emotion, I couldn't say.

"You wanted to talk?"

"Ever since you heard that news story on Charles Michaels you've changed. Will you talk with me about it?"