Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (15 page)

I ate my dinner slowly, because if my dad thought I had eaten too fast, I’d be scolded for that.

He was always looking for things to complain about.

A piece of lint.

A pea in his carrots.

You name it and
he’d find a way to whine about it.

I made sure to eat every morsel on my plate, which wasn’t hard, because it was delicious, like everything my mom made. But I’m sure my dad didn’t bother to tell her it was good, he never did. He only told her what she did wrong, not what she did right, and the same with me.

He couldn’t be pleased, simple as that.

I cleaned
, and dried my plate, stacking it in the cabinet. Although, I was tempted to put it in the dishwasher just for spite, but since I was afraid of his reaction, I didn’t.

I stepped into the family room, my hands clasped behind my back.

My mom didn’t look up from whatever it was she was knitting, which was normal. She was expected to be a meek submissive wife.

My dad flicked the newspaper down, eyeing me.

I knew I wasn’t allowed to speak first, so I waited for him to address me.

“Yes?” He finally spoke, his voice booming.

“I finished my dinner and cleaned my plate. I’d like to be excused for bed,” I said, staring him right in the eyes.

He flicked a hand
, and just like that, I was dismissed.

I walked slowly until I was out of his line of vision
, and grabbed my suitcase, carrying it upstairs.

I closed my bedroom door for a moment of peace. The only time I was allowed to have my door closed was when I was changing.

I checked my phone and there was a text from Trace.

Hope u got home safe. If it gets bad come home. I’ll let you sleep in my bed. I promise to sleep on the couch like a good boy. ;)

I smiled. Something I rarely did when I was stuck behind these walls.

I’m here. Getting ready for bed. Miss u.

Miss u 2. Think about that tattoo and I’ll think about mine
.
He replied.

Ur getting another 1
?
I asked.

U can never have 2 many tattoos.;)

I had to agree with that. I loved Trace’s tattoos.

Night, Olivia. And seriously, my place is yours if you need it
.
He texted a few seconds after his previous message.

Night. I’ll keep that in mind. :)

I could tell he was worried about me being here, even though it was only for a few days. When I left early this morning, I was shocked to find him outside my dorm, leaning next to my car. He kissed me over and over again, like with each kiss he was trying to convince me to stay. It almost worked, but fear got the better of me. I didn’t want my dad driving all the way to Virginia and tracking me down.

I turned my phone off since my dad frowned upon texting and tossed it onto my bed. It got lost in the sea of frilly white and pink blankets. My ro
om hadn’t changed since I was five.

The walls were a pale pink, teddy bears cluttered a corner, and white sheers kept anyone from peering in the large windows.

This room should feel like an oasis, but I was more comfortable in my dorm room. At least it reflected
me
. This room was who my father wanted to pretend I was.

I grabbed
my pajamas from my suitcase and walked across the hall to shower.

I wasn’t in there long
, because my dad would have ended up banging on the door, yelling about all the water I was wasting. But by the time I got out, they were both in bed.

“Olivia!” My dad called out before I could tiptoe across the hall to my room.

“Yeah?” I replied, cursing everything I could think of.

“Leave your door open,” he warned.

I rolled my eyes since he couldn’t see me. “I know,” I muttered.

I made sure to leave the door wide open, not cracked, and climbed into bed.

But I couldn’t sleep. I never could when I was here. I don’t know what I was waiting for, but it was something.

★★★

My dad had the Kirkpatrick family, who were members of his church, over for Thanksgiving dinner.

“Sit there and look pretty,” my dad had told me before they showed up.

It was no surprise when Kevin Kirkpatrick sat down beside me. He was a year older than me
, and my dad had planned our wedding and named our children, by the time I was four and he was five.

I had new
s for my daddy-o, I would rather stab myself in the eye than marry Kevin. All he talked about was himself. If I had to hear one more time about how he did this…or that…I was going to scream bloody murder.

Finally, for my sanity’s sake, I tuned him out
, and pretended to listen, inserting a nod here and there. Kevin didn’t even notice that I wasn’t paying attention. Pretentious jerk.

I ate my dinner slowly as my dad played the part of
the perfect husband and father. Telling those gathered how well I was doing in college. He didn’t even know what I was studying to be.

Kevin’s hand brushed against mine and I scooted a teensy bit farther away.

I didn’t want him touching me.

There was only one man
I wanted to touch me, in any way, and he was ten hours away.

Kevin tapped my shoulder. “You’re not listening to a thing I say, are you?”

“Of course I am,” I pretended to be hurt that he thought I was ignoring him. “You were talking about how you play tennis.”

And just like that he started talking again. He was so egotistical that I almost felt sorry for him.

I zoned out again, ignoring not only Kevin, but everyone around me. I wanted this to be over. Not only today, but the whole weekend. I was desperate to get back home.

I was probably the only college student who thought of her school as home, but that’s what it was. Once I graduated
, I had no plans to move back to New Hampshire.

Kevin’s arm brushed against mine
, and he was lucky I was a nice person, and didn’t stab him with my fork.

I heard my dad mention something about desert and I breathed a sigh of relief. This Hell on Earth was almost over.

I helped my mom clear away the plates, thankful for the respite from Kevin, and helped her carry out the various pies.

I swear, she must have made on
e of each.

French Silk. Apple. Cherry. Pumpkin.

They were all there.

I waited until everyone else had gotten
theirs before snagging a giant piece of homemade French Silk pie.

It was so delicious that I wanted to moan in ecstasy, but my dad would kill me if I started making sex noises at the table.

“Thank you, for the lovely meal, Nora,” Kevin’s mom, Linda, said. “I’m sure it took you hours.”

“It was no bother,” my dad replied, because apparently his name was Nora now
.

Linda
sported a tight-lipped smile as she looked between my dad and mom. “Yes, well, thank you as well for inviting us, Aaron.”

He nodded. “You and your family are welcome here anytime,” he lifted his wine glass in salute.

He wouldn’t let my mom drink wine, the controlling bastard.

“Are you enjoying school?”
Linda asked me with a bright smile. I had always liked her, but right now, I was irritated with her son and therefore her. I wanted her, Kevin, and her husband to leave, so I could wash the dishes and hide in my bedroom until tomorrow morning.

“It’s great,
” I answered, sipping at my glass of water, because my dad didn’t let us drink soda or my favorite, sweet tea. I had never had sweet tea until I moved to Virginia for school, but after trying it, it had become my favorite drink.

“That’s good to hear,” she wipe
d her mouth free of pie crumbs.

She was the same age as my mom, but she looked ten years younger. Her light blond
e hair glowed and her blue eyes were bright. A few wrinkles crinkled the corners of her mouth and eyes, but they weren’t that noticeable.

“What was it your dad said you’re studying?”
Linda asked.

I scooted a little bit farther away from Kevin, whose leg had just brushed mine, before answering her. “He didn’t,” I mumbled low enough that no one heard. “I’m studying to be an English teacher.”

“Oh, isn’t that…nice,” she smiled.

I wanted to growl. It was like everyone looked down at you when you said you wanted to be a teacher. I guess it all came back to that saying; those who can, do. Those who
can’t, teach.

“What grade are you thinking about teaching?” She asked.

“High school, I haven’t decided on what year yet, though,” I shrugged.

“I told Olivia that she should follow in her old man’s footsteps,” my dad chuckled.

I snorted and he glared at me. I’d pay for that later.

“Teaching is a very rewarding and respectable career,” I countered. “I’ll be teaching people, just like you do, father,” I smiled cheerfully at him, even though cheerful was the last thing I felt.

“No, not like I do, Olivia,” he narrowed his dark brown eyes at me, peering at me above the rim of his glasses. “I teach people about the meaning of faith and God. You’ll be teaching people useless information that won’t help them to reach heaven come judgment day.”

Somebody stab me in the eye. My father was one of the most ungodly men to ever walk the planet. Who was he to preach? I wanted to tell him we’d see where
he
went come judgment day. I’d bet money it wasn’t to heaven.

“Yes, well,” I muttered with a shrug. I knew I better stop talking before I got myself in trouble…well, into more trouble than I was already in.

“Kevin’s studying to be an architect,” Linda’s husband, William, informed me.

“I think he mentioned that already,” I replied, my sarcasm falling on deaf ears.

Thirty minutes later, the Kirkpatrick’s left, and I wanted to dance for joy.

“Olivia,” my dad’s voice boomed as he came into the kitchen
. My shoulders tensed as I leaned over the sink, my fingers raw from scrubbing. “Your behavior tonight was unacceptable, a downright embarrassment.”

I swallowed
thickly, shoving my hair out of my face.

“What exactly did I say that was unacceptable, sir?”
I steeled my shoulders.

My mom had stiffened beside me, but she went on scrubbing
, like nothing was happening.

“You completely ignored poor Kevin, the boy’s infatuated with you, Olivia. The least you could do is carry on a conversation and see where it goes,” he reasoned.

My hands clenched into fists beneath the water, thank God I wasn’t holding a knife, or I would’ve sliced my hand open.

“We were talking,” I argued, “Kevin was telling me all about his time at school and his volunteer work. It was
fascinating
,” I snapped.

His eyes widened. “Don’t sass me,” he barked and I flinched.

I held my breath so I didn’t cry.

“When you’re under my roof,” he roared, pointing to the ceiling, “you are to act a certain way! I knew letting you go off to college that far away was a bad idea!
You should have stayed here where I could’ve supervised you! God only knows what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into! You’re a disgrace, Olivia! This is why I wanted a son!” He ranted. “A son would never disappoint his father this way! But a daughter,” he growled, striding over to me, and grabbing my hair. I yelped, tears burning my eyes. “A daughter is nothing but trouble.”

He had never grabbed me like this before; he preferred to hurt me with words.

“Let me go, please, let me go,” I begged.

He did, giving me a shove so that I went sprawling on the floor.

He stomped out of the kitchen, his steps echoing through the house.

Air crawled through my chest, escaping in strangled gasps. I wrapped my arms around my legs
, holding myself together.

My mom sank to the ground beside me, wrapping me in her arms
, and gently rocking me back and forth. Her fingers smoothed through my hair.

She didn’t say anything and I didn’t either.

There was nothing we
could
say.

But we still sat
, united, both victims of a man we should trust.

c h a p t e r

Twelve

I pulled into the parking lot of my dorm and a weight lifted off my shoulders. I was finally home and I could
breathe
.

I felt like I had been holding my breath the entire time I had been away.

I carried my suitcase up to my dorm and found Avery sitting on the bed.

She immediately hopped up, hugging me. “I missed
you, Livie.”

“I missed you too,” I replied, letting go of my suitcase.
“Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” I asked, stepping out of her embrace.

“My parents weren’t home,” she shrugged like it was no big deal.
“And my brothers didn’t bother to come home either.”

“You mean you were alone in that big house, the whole break?” I unzipped my suitcase and started putting things away.

“Well,” she laughed, “I wasn’t really alone.”

“Luca?” I questioned, turning around to face her.

She smiled, completely enamored. “I don’t know what it is about him, Livie. He makes me feel…” She trailed off. “I can’t explain it.”

“That’s nice,” I forced a smile, even though I wasn’t quite sold on Luca. He reminded me of a barbarian. A hot barbarian but still…

“I think I’m really falling for him,” she murmured wistfully.

I made a strangled noise in the back of my throat as I choked on my own saliva.

“Really?” I asked with a high voice.

“Yeah,” she ran her fingers nervously through her hair. “You don’t know him like I do. He doesn’t talk much when he’s around other people, but he’s really started to open up to me
, and I…” She blushed. Avery
never
blushed.

“Are you falling for him, or have you already fallen?” I raised a brow.

She swallowed, biting her lip. “I don’t know. What about you and Trace?”

I took a deep breath. “I don’t know, either. It seems like it’s impossible to fall for someone so quickly, someone you barely know,” I shrugged.

“I know what you mean,” she breathed. “This whole love thing is so confusing,” Avery pouted.

“And I have a feeling it never gets less confusing,” I mumbled, putting the last of my things away.

★★★

“Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!” I exclaimed as I stepped outside my dorm and found Trace leaning against the building. “I think I almost peed my pants!”

He chuckled and his voice rumbled, “We can pick up some Depends on our way to the tattoo shop,” he nodded towards his car.

“Tattoo?” Avery asked from behind me. I had completely forgotten she was there. “Are you getting a tattoo, Livie?”

“Um,
yeah,” I mumbled, stepping back, looking from her to Trace. I knew I had probably paled at least ten shades and I felt sick to my stomach.

“Can I come?” She asked, looking between Trace and I. “I’ve been wanting to get one but I haven’t had the chance to go. I mean, feel free to say no. I don’t want to be intruding-”
She rambled.

“It’s fine with me,” Trace looked at me, making sure I was okay with that.

“It’s not a problem,” I assured her.

“Great,” she beamed. “I was supposed to
meet Luca, but let me call and tell him there’s been a change of plans,” she grinned, walking off, with her phone glued to her ear.

“So,” Trace grinned crookedly, “have you thought about want you want to get.”

“Live,” I answered. I honestly hadn’t thought about my tattoo at all, while I was at home, but as the word left my lips I knew it was perfect.

“Live,” he murmured. “That’s perfect
for you.”

I smiled.

Avery walked up to us, her phone tucked back in her purse. “Can you give me a ride?” She asked Trace. “Luca will meet us there, then he’ll drive me back here, after we have dinner.”

“That’s not a problem,” Trace replied.

“Thank you!” Avery clapped her hands together. Entwining one of her arms through mine, she exclaimed, “We’re getting tattoos, Livie!”

Avery climbed into the backseat of the old Camaro while I sat up front with Trace.

He drove into old town Winchester, parking in front of the tattoo shop. He’d held my hand the whole way. Trace could tell I was nervous. Heck, the way I kept chewing on my fingernails
anyone
could see that I was nervous.

He inserted change into the parking meter and motioned Avery and I to follow him inside.

As soon as the bell above the door chimed, a guy covered in tattoos looked up, grinning. “Hey, Trace, I knew you’d be back soon.” He called into the back. “Brian! Trace is here!”

Trace turned to me, explaining in a hushed tone, “This is Justin. I went to high school with him and Brian.”

“Yeah,” Justin piped in, rubbing a hand over his buzzed cut scalp. “We used to get into all kinds of trouble back in the day.”

“It wasn’t
that
long ago,” Trace chuckled, “stop trying to make me sound old.”

“Longer than you think,” the guy
I assumed was Brian entered the room. He had dark wavy brown hair and tattoos covered both of his arms. “What can we do for you today?” He asked. “Ladies?”

“Hmm,” Trace mused, “why are we here again? I forgot.”

“Always a smartass, this one,” Justin pointed to Trace but he was looking at me. “Watch yourself with him.”

“I think I can handle him,” I spoke up, causing Justin to laugh.

The door opened behind us and Luca stepped inside. The guys greeted Luca before leading us to the back.

“How’re we going to do this?” Justin asked, eyeing all of us.

“We’ll take a room and they’ll take another,” Trace replied, gripping my hand. Justin’s eyes narrowed on our clasped hands before he grinned. “I’m sure you will. Brian, think you can handle those two?” Justin nodded at Avery and Luca.

Brian chuckled. “I can handle anything.” He flipped a light on in a room and motioned them insi
de. Justin led Trace and me to the next room.

Shrugging out of his leather jacket, Trace asked, “Do you want me to go first?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’m afraid if I watch you, I’ll chicken out.”

“Fair enough,” he grinned, sitting down in a vacant chair.

“Do you know what you want?” Justin asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, figuring he was expecting me to say I wanted a butte
rfly or something like that. “I want the word, live, here,” I pointed to the outside part of my left forearm.

“Pick your font,” he pointed to a poster.

I made a face. I hated all of them.

Justin chuckled at my expression.

“Can I get my friend to write it down?” I asked. I had heard of people getting tattoos in a person’s handwriting and I knew Avery’s handwriting was nicer than any of these fonts.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed a pen and paper, leaving Trace and I alone.

“The fonts are kind of sucky,” he commented.

Justin returned
in no time, holding up the piece of paper for my inspection. “Perfect,” I replied, and he went to work transferring the word onto another type of paper.

“What are you getting?” I asked Trace.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he chuckled.

“I told you
what I was getting!” I cried.

“You’re just going to have to wait and see,” he smiled. “Patience.”

“Ready?” Justin asked suddenly.

I sat back in the chair. “Yep,” I held out my arm for him to place the word on my
skin.

“Is this where you want it?” He asked, before pressing it in.

I looked in the mirror and instructed him to move it a little bit. “Perfect,” I told him.

“What color ink do you want?” He asked, putting on gloves.

“Black,” I answered.

I took a deep breath as he got everything ready.

“Ready?”  He asked again, holding the tattoo gun in one hand, and sliding a stool over.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes, and felt Trace’s hand
grip mine.

“Look at me,” Trace commanded, “it’ll be over before you know it.”

I nodded at Justin to start and then locked my eyes on Trace. He distracted me by talking about random things, and at one point, he started kissing me, which Justin scolded us for, because I started wiggling.

“Done,” Justin announced, laying the gun down on a table. “Want to see?”

“Of course,” I replied giddily. I stood up and he closed the door, revealing a floor length mirror. I held my arm up and couldn’t help the goofy smile that formed on my face. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

The tattoo was small and simple, but I loved it. It was perfect for me and the meaning behind it was what mattered. All I was doing
, was trying to live my life, and this tattoo would remind me of that every day.

l
ive

I knew that I couldn’t have picked anything more important to put on my body.

When I finished looking at it, Justin rubbed some kind of ointment over it, and taped a bandage around it, going over the rules for keeping it clean.

He finished and I turned around to see Trace removing his standard plaid shirt and then yanking off his white t-shirt by hooking his thumbs into the back collar.

His back muscles rippled and flexed, causing my heart to stutter.

Unlike the last time I saw him shirtless, I forced myself not to get distracted.

I noticed that there was a fleur de lis tattoo between his shoulders. Low enough that it didn’t peek out of his shirts, and small, maybe only three inches.  There was also some kind of script on top of his shoulder but I couldn’t read what it said from where I stood.

“What are you getting to
day?” Justin asked, disinfecting the equipment.

“A four leaf clover,” Trace answered, taking a seat.

I stepped closer to him, leaning down, to peer at the tattoo over his heart.

The words, ‘
To live in the hearts you leave behind is not to die,’ formed the shape of a heart with the initials, T.W., inside.

“For your dad?” I asked shakily.

“Yeah,” he replied, studying my face.

“And what does this one say?” I pointed to the tattoo in small script on top of his shoulder.

“Inhale the future, exhale the past,” he answered.

“Hmm,” I murmured.

“What are you thinking?” He raised a dark brow.

“I honestly don’t know,” I whispered, my eyes roaming over the tattoos and his chest.

“Is this good?” Justin asked. I had completely forgotten he was in the room. Trace appraised the design and nodded. “And where do you want it?”

“Here,” Trace pointed to a spot on his right side, below another line of script. I couldn’t read that one either and something told me not to ask what it said.

Justin pressed the design into Trace’s skin and scooted the stool to Trace’s side.

Trace grinned up at me from where he sat as the needle roared to life.
“Hold my hand? I’m scared,” he winked, reaching out for my hand.

I rolled my eyes but placed my hand in his anyway.
“I’m sure you’re
really
scared,” I replied sarcastically.

“Terrified,” his lips quirked as he withheld laughter.

“Are you guys dating?” Justin asked, eyes intent upon his work.

“Uh-” I stuttered.

“Yes,” Trace replied and my eyes widened.

Justin chuckled. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you date a girl since Aubrey.”

My whole body stiffened at the sound of another girl’s name.

Trace’s hand tightened against mine and his jaw clenched. “When you know it’s right, it’s right.”

“Yeah, well,” Justin shrugged, wiping away excess ink, “I still thought no one would ever tie you down again.”

Trace made a face of disgust
, and turned away from me, but he didn’t release my hand.

Justin finished the tattoo
, and went through the same procedure with Trace, as he did with me.

We each paid him, because I demanded that I pay for my own, and headed back to the front.

Avery and Luca were already waiting there for us.

“I wanted to see your tattoo before we left,” Avery explained. “Especially since it’s in my handwriting,” she danced.

I peeled back one side of the wrapping and showed her.

“It came out so pretty!” She exclaimed.

“What did you get?” I asked.

She turned to the side and lifted a tiny bandage behind her ear, showing me an anchor, no more than half an inch big.

“Isn’t it cute?” She asked, her green eyes wide like she was afraid I was about to tell her it was horrible.