Page 56 of Without a Trace
“You left me once. That was worse.”
He kissed me again. Slower this time. Angrier. One last taste.
And then he stepped back.
I nearly fell forward.
“Trace.”
He didn’t look at me. Just backed out of the water like it burned.
“I’m sorry.”
And then he was gone.
And I was alone again.
Dripping.
Shaking.
Still fucking ruined.
Trace
Ididn’t make it far.
The second I stepped out of that bathroom; I nearly lost it.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My pulse wrecked—still beating out the rhythm of her against me, her mouth, her fucking chaos.
Gripping the banister so hard it hurt. She was everywhere. In my lungs. On my skin. Beneath my fingernails like ash I couldn’t scrub off. I didn’t know if I was going to be sick or punch through the goddamn wall.
I left her there.
Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to stop.
I would’ve fucked her like I meant it. No hesitation. No mercy.
I would’ve kissed her like I remembered every second of her.
Like I missed her.
Like I never stopped loving her.
I would’ve ruined her—and this time, there wouldn’t have been a way to come back from it.
What the fuck are we doing?
I heard her voice on loop. Not just from tonight. From back then—that summer, every night since I walked away. Her laugh. Her questions. Her anger. That soft Scarlett she only was when it was real.
God, I didn’t want to leave.
I didn’t want to leave her back then.
I just—couldn’t.
She was sunlight. Chaos. Reckless grace. Wild and sharp and too fucking good. And I was… fucked up. Bound to people I couldn’t shake. Tied to promises I couldn’t break. Darkness I never chose.
