Page 10 of Bringing Home the Bad Boy

Chapter 5

My lips still tingle. I touch them for the hundredth time since last night, remembering the way Trace pressed me against the wooden column, the way his body felt against mine, solid and real after so many years of dreams. The morning sun filters through my bedroom window, but I haven't slept. How could I? Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Feel him. God, I am such a fool. All these years of anger, hurt, and blaming him—when he'd been protecting his family from my father. The thought makes my stomach turn. How many times have I cursed Trace's name? How many nights have I spent wondering what I'd done wrong when, all along, he'd been forced to choose between me and his family's safety?

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. My heart skips when I see his name.

Missed you last night. Kept thinking about that kiss.

I smile, warmth spreading through my chest. Before I can respond, another message comes through.

Taking someone Christmas tree shopping today. Could use your expertise. If you’re free?

My fingers hover over the keyboard. Am I ready for this? Ready to let him back in? But didn't I already make that decision last night under the mistletoe?

Yes. When and where?

Your farm. 11 a.m. There’s someone I want you to meet.

Someone he wants me to meet? Curiosity piqued, I agree. An hour later, I pull in, waving at the workers carrying trees back and forth to the other cars in the lot. Scanning for Trace’s face or vehicle. I spot him near the entrance, but he isn't alone. A little girl, no more than four or five, dances around him, her dark curls bouncing with each step.

My heart stops.

"Noel," Trace calls out, waving me over. The little girl grabs his hand, suddenly shy. "I want you to meet someone special." He kneels beside her. "Jelena, this is my friend Noel. Noel, this is my daughter."

The world tilts.

His daughter.

His daughter.

I force a smile, but my face feels wooden and frozen. "Hi, Jelena." My voice sounds strange and distant, like it belongs to someone else.

She peers up at me with big brown eyes—his eyes—before hiding behind his leg. "Hi," she whispers.

The next hour passes in a blur. I walk beside them, watching as Jelena runs from tree to tree, her excitement is genuine and infectious. But all I can think about is him. With someone else. Having a child with someone else. I've been with two men since Trace, but this... this is different. This is permanent. This is a family.

"What do you think about this one?" Trace asks, gesturing to a full spruce. His voice is careful, like he can sense my withdrawal.

"It's nice," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. The December air is colder than ever.

"We're going to get hot chocolate after this," he says, searching my face. "Want to join us?"

I shake my head, taking a step back. "I can't. I just remembered I have some work to do at The Old Barn."

"Noel—"

"You were right," I cut him off. "What you said about getting to know each other again? It was good advice. Maybe we should take it."

I glance up, noticing the mistletoe hanging from the farm's entrance arch. Trace follows my gaze, his jaw tightening. When he reaches for me, I step back, crossing my arms tighter. His eyes narrow, but he doesn't push. Instead, he nods once, sharp and quick. "If that's what you want."

It isn't what I want. I want to go back to last night, to that moment under the mistletoe when everything seemed possible. Before I knew about the life he'd built without me. Before I realized just how much had changed. "Goodbye, Trace," I whisper, turning away before he can see the tears threatening to fall. "Goodbye, Jelena." I walk to my car, each step heavier than the one before it. I am leaving him behind.Them.

My phone vibrates—probably Trace—but I don't look at it.Can'tlook at it. Not now. Not when my heart is breaking all over again for something I have no right to be heartbroken about.

After all, we aren't those people anymore. Trace said as much last night. Now, his hesitancy makes more sense. I should thank him for not taking me while I was completely clueless, but I can't. I wished he'd made love to me right there in The Old Barn—like old times. Like he hadn't moved on. Built a life. Started a family. I drove down to the Christmas tree farm when I couldn't have hiked from my place. Now I wish I hadn't. Not because I want to walk back but because I want to run.

***

"He cried," I say, swirling the wine in my glass. We've gathered at Alix's house, our usual safe space, when one of us needs to fall apart. "My father. The great stone face broke down."

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