Page 38 of Without a Trace
My cup was empty again.
I laughed, tossed my hair over one shoulder and said, “Okay, last one. Let’s really fuck it up.”
Trace’s eyes flickered as Alden sat straighter.
“If I disappeared tomorrow, what’s the one thing you’d wish you told me?”
Silence creaked between us.
I leaned forward, smirking like I hadn’t just thrown a grenade into the water to see which one of them caught the shrapnel.
“That you saved me,” Alden said. “That no one else ever made me feel like I wasn’t too much or too little.”
My throat tightened. But I nodded.
“Trace?”
“That you ruined me.”
The air snapped.
I blinked. Laughed once, sharp. “Jesus, dramatic.”
He leaned in, voice a quiet cut. “You want messy? That’s what you are to me. Fucking ruin.”
I stood.
The world tilted a little, but I righted it with one deep breath.
And then—because I could—I moved closer. I climbed over Alden’s leg, straddling the narrow edge of his lap like I had a point to prove. My arms looped around his neck, casual, lethal.
Trace’s hands flexed once, like he was fighting instinct. Or giving into it.
Alden froze.
“I should go inside,” I whispered to no one in particular.
Neither of them said a word.
I pulled back, fingers skimming Alden’s chest as I slipped out of the tub.
Water trailed behind me as they watched me go.
And for once, I didn’t care who broke first.
Because I already had.
Trace
She didn’t even fucking look back.
Just climbed off Alden’s lap like she hadn’t just ripped the air straight out of my lungs, stepped out of the tub, and walked inside, feet leaving fire in every goddamn direction.
Water trailed behind her like a fucking crime scene.
And I just sat there.
Staring.
