Page 96 of Chasing Olivia (Trace + Olivia 2)

He tightened his hold on me. “Nuh-uh, stay here.”

I opened my mouth to protest but the door was opening. The man pushed the storm door open, glaring at Trace, and then his gaze flicked to me.

Those eyes.

That nose.

That face.

I was staring at Derek Wynn, the man who was my real father, and the one my mother had told me was dead.

“Dad?” I gasped and everything went black.

My head was pounding and I couldn’t seem to get my eyelids to open. I heard murmuring in the background but couldn’t make out what the voices were saying.

A warm hand pressed against my face. “Olivia? Wake up,” the voice coaxed.

I wanted to tell the person that I was trying, but I couldn’t open my mouth to speak.

A cool cloth was spread across my forehead. The feel of it soothed me.

“Olivia,” the voice started again. “Wake up. There’s someone that would like to meet you.”

Oh, holy shit!

The moments before I blacked out came rushing back at me.

“Dad!” I exclaimed, sitting straight up. The wet cloth plopped in my lap and Trace’s tan arm snaked out to grab it.

My dad squatted in front of me, laughing under his breath. “I’m not your dad, kid.”

“You’re lying,” my brows furrowed together and I glared at the man. “You’re Derek Wynn. You’re my dad. My mom told me so. We look alike.” I couldn’t believe I was looking at my dad. My mom had told me he was dead, but here he was in front of me alive and well. I wondered if she’d lied to me or if—

“I’m not Derek,” the man shook his head. “I’m his brother, Dexter. But call me Dex,” he held out a hand for me to shake.

“So, Derek really is dead?” I squeaked, staring at his hand. After a moment, I took it.

“He’s been six feet under for twenty-two years. He’s dead. Very dead. As in not coming back, dead.”

Trace laughed, pointing at Dex. “I like this guy.”

“So, you’re my uncle,” I stated.

“Seeing as how I was your dad’s older brother, yes, that makes me your uncle,” Dex rubbed a hand over his light beard. His dark hair and beard was speckled with gray.

“I-I-I-” I stuttered, looking at him. Finally, I forced my eyes to Trace. “How?” I had meant to ask him how he’d found Dexter, but I’d only managed to get the one word out.

He pretended to pick dirt out from under his fingernails. “I hired a private investigator. It didn’t take them long to track down the Wynn’s. The problem was in figuring out how to get you here, without telling you.”

My mouth fell agape. “This whole road trip was a ruse, wasn’t it?” I demanded.

Trace had the forethought to appear sheepish. “Yeah, kind of. I was going to wait and do it later, but after what happened with Gramps,” he cleared his throat, “I needed to get away.”

“I—uh—need some air,” I stood shakily with a hand against my throbbing head. I shuffled to the door and turned to find Trace behind me. “Alone,” I added in a harsh voice.

Pain flashed in his green eyes, but he nodded, ducking his head.

I pushed open the storm door and sat on the steps, breathing deeply in from my mouth and out from my nose.

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