Page 31 of The Life We Left Behind

This was the man the teenage Trace had become. His wet shirt clung to his body, showing every dip and curve of the muscles it hid. The wild tangle of hair that he’d never been able to fully tame was slicked back from his face from the rain, and even though he’d surged forward with one of those manly groans that made me weak in the knees, he held onto me like I was the most precious thing in his life.

My stomach dipped at the thought, and my brain revolted. Because I had been precious to Trace once, but then he’d thrown me away.

The pain of that one single thought lanced through my heart, and I pulled away. Stumbling back a step as I wrenched myself free of his tender touch.

“Delaney?” He didn’t move. He didn’t step forward, and he didn’t try to pull me back into his arms.

I watched as the pain crossed his features. As those stormy blue eyes clouded with questions.

Part of me wanted him to hurt. Wanted to throw him away and see an ounce of the pain on his face that he’d caused to me.

But I couldn’t.

I’d seen a different side of Trace in the pasture, a vulnerable side that I knew he hadn’t shown to anyone else. It had always been like that between us. I was the holder of all his secrets, and even after he broke me so completely, I’d never whispered a single one of them. And I never would.

There was a part of me that still loved him. A shadow of the heartbroken teenager who still thought it was all a mistake. Even in the moments when I’d hated him, I’d still loved him and despised myself for being so weak.

But the thing with clinging to the beautiful memories of a time when everything had felt so much easier was that you remembered what it felt like to be free. To not have to deal with the everyday struggles of life. It was a moment when you could push away the sorrows that weighed you down and let yourself be happy, even if it was just for a moment.

And I wanted that.

I wanted to forget about the grief and the pain and feel like I had all those years ago. To remember a time when Trace had been my everything, and he’d made me feel like his whole life. When nothing else mattered.

Maybe I was drunk on the memories. Maybe the grief made something inside me break. Whatever it was, I wasn’t going to let this chance slip me by. Even if I hated myself in the morning, I wanted one final night with Trace in my bed, and then in the morning, we could have the bittersweet goodbye we’d never had a chance to have before.

Before I could second guess myself, I held out my hand for him. The relief of dropping all the worries and stress that followed me around every day had a smile coming to my lips.

Right now, I didn’t want to be the heartbroken teenager that had fled Willowbrook. I didn’t want to be the single mom whose whole world was the amazing kid she had the honor of raising.

I just wanted to be a woman, living in the moment with the only man who’d ever been able to make her feel.

Trace’s hand clasped mine, and my stomach flipped with nerves as I pulled him through the front door of the house. He looked around like he’d never seen the place before, and then I realized it was the boxes that he was staring at. It must have been strange for him to see the evidence of the end of my time in Willowbrook staring him in the face. The end of a family era.

This was the perfect way to say goodbye to that stage of my life. And if I was going to do it with anyone, of course, it had to be him.

“Take me to bed, Trace.”

He turned to look at me. His lips parted as if he’d been about to ask a question, but then a hunger entered his gaze as my words registered, and he silently scooped me up into his arms, striding toward the stairs with purpose.

We wasted no time. We were like two magnets, not even trying to fight the pull. His lips were back on mine, and I threaded my fingers through his wet hair to take exactly what I needed.

Trace didn’t miss a step. He didn’t even hesitate as he walked to my old bedroom door and kicked it open.

My fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned, his lips pushed against mine in an almost bruising manner.

“Is this a good idea?” I whispered against his lips.

“Probably not. Do you want me to stop?”

He clung to me so tightly as he stood next to the bed, his fingers digging into my thighs as he waited for me to tell him if he should stop. For some reason, it was the way he stood so rigid, the tension filling his body as he held himself back, thathad me slowly nodding. Trace slowly lowered me to the ground, taking a step back before he shoved his hands into his pockets like he couldn’t trust himself to have them free.

I frowned, not sure what was happening, and then I realized what I’d done.

“Oh, I mean, no.”

“Thank fuck!” He surged forward, scooped me up, and tossed me down onto the mattress. “I need you to be sure, Delaney,” he told me as he towered over me. “This means everything, and I don’t think I’ll survive you regretting it in the morning.”

I reached up, grabbed his wet shirt, and tore it open. The buttons flew across the room, and I winced, not realizing that would happen. I guess it kind of made sense, but I’d assumed they at least stay attached.

---