Chapter 17 #2
“I was in a bad place when Derek met me. Pretty much living on the street. A few of the other kids were selling their bodies for cash. I hadn’t done it yet, but I’d thought long and hard about it.
Thought about using, too. I was dead on my feet, working at the bar that night.
Don’t even remember half of what happened.
But when your dad realized the situation I was in and offered to help, it was like… ”
He blew out a breath. “It was like a wish being granted by a genie. Made me even wonder if my mom had been right about god, you know? Suddenly, I had this big, rich guy bound and determined to take care of me.”
I felt a little tremor of unease. “You must have really liked him.”
He huffed out a laugh, recognizing the direction of my thoughts.
“Not like that. Of course he’s hot. Jude’s also hot.
But seeing how much they loved each other put both of them off-limits in my mind immediately, which was good.
Made it easier to accept their help, honestly.
I knew they genuinely wanted to show their gratitude by helping me, and didn’t have any… other motives.”
It took me a second to realize what kind of “motives” he meant.
“I hate that you were in a place where you had to question that.” I sidestepped a jagged rock embedded in the trail floor and quickly reached for Trace’s hand again when I fell back in line. “For what it’s worth, my parents would have helped you even without the whole life-saving thing in the bar.”
“I know that now. At the time, the only reason I was able to accept their help was because Derek seemed so hell-bent on repaying me.”
“You let him get you a job at On Your Six,” I prompted.
“Not at first. First, he moved me into a studio apartment, spouting some bullshit about how he and Jude needed someone to stay there to keep squatters out while they looked for new tenants.” Trace shook his head, amused.
“Took me a while to realize it was a place they kept downtown for late nights in the city. Then I found a framed family picture shoved in a drawer. Ollie confirmed it when she showed up one night to sleep there and screamed her head off when she discovered the bed already had a body in it.”
I barked out a laugh, thinking of my favorite aunt—and former nanny—coming into an apartment, expecting it to be empty and finding a stranger instead.
“Did she hit you? You know her entire family is law enforcement, right? She’s taught me as much self-defense as my dad has. Only she fights dirty.”
“No. She actually burst into tears and thought one of your dads was keeping me on the side.”
“What?” I gasped and yanked his hand until he stopped to face me. “You’re kidding?”
Trace’s grin was warm in the morning sun.
“She was shitfaced. Had gone out with a friend to a club to celebrate something. I don’t remember now, and maybe she never even said.
But it was kind of funny. Had to call Derek to get Jude to talk her down.
By the time the call ended, she was asleep in my bed.
The next morning, we were halfway to being friends. ”
I remembered Trace and Ollie both being around a lot when I was younger, like satellites orbiting our family dependably and steadily. “When I was little, I thought the two of you were together,” I admitted.
Trace laughed and set us back on the path so we were moving forward again. “You didn’t realize I was gay?”
I shook my head. “I just knew that Molly Hovan’s nanny had a boyfriend, so I assumed my nanny had one, too. And since you were the one hanging around Ollie all the time, it had to be you.”
He grinned. “Logical, I guess.”
“Then I realized you were gay when you dated Ryan.” I scowled at the trail. “Fucking hated that guy.”
Trace’s laughter was bright and easy, and I felt it ease all the muscles in my back and shoulders. “Ryan. Wonder where he is now.”
“Prison?” I grumbled. “Would serve him right after what he did.”
“What’d he do?”
I stared at him. How could he not remember? “Uh, broke your heart, Trace. You cried for two days!”
Trace stopped again to face me. He studied me for a moment, then cupped my cheeks and leaned in to press a soft kiss to my lips. “You have a giant heart,” he said softly. “And I hope that never changes.”
I wrapped my arms around his broad back and held him for another deep kiss before asking what he meant.
He brushed my cheek with his thumb. “I was crying because I lost a principal at work. A woman I’d been protecting for the better part of a year was killed in a car accident.
When I told Ryan, he made a joke about it.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back on our relationship.
But I wasn’t crying for him. I was crying for her. ”
I thought about it for a second, then narrowed my eyes and muttered, “Never mind. Prison’s too good for Ryan.”
Trace whistled low. “Damn. What happened to my sweet, peace-loving Wolfe Marian?” he teased.
“I am peace-loving. But I’ll burn the world if you hurt or threaten someone I…” I had to physically swallow back the word that was on the tip of my tongue. “…care about.”
Thankfully, Trace didn’t seem to notice my almost-stumble.
“Well, I’m glad to still be one of those people,” he said.
“Of course you are.” I shrugged. “You’re family. You always will be.”
Even if I was starting to worry that he’d always be way more than that to me.
As we continued up the trail again, we stayed away from tricky topics like my crush on him or any thoughts he might have had about me.
But eventually, he broached a different subject. “Tell me about Thornton.”
The question surprised me. “I told you everything back then.”
“It scared you. The comparisons to your father.”
I glanced over, but Trace’s eyes were focused in the distance, where the trees ended and the wide-open view began.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “It hadn’t really hit me until then that there would be no way to have a successful music career without Jude Marian’s ghost haunting the fuck out of it.”
Trace’s eyes turned to meet mine. “Unless you got creative.”
My heart rate picked up as I studied his face for clues that he knew… anything. “What do you mean?” I asked carefully.
He shrugged. “You’re talented as fuck, and I know better than anyone that you had big dreams back then. You must have felt lonely. I’m sorry, baby.”
I swallowed hard. It had been lonely.
Was lonely.
I’d locked parts of myself away for years, until the weight of what I was holding back became too much to bear. Being Fletcher Coe released a little of the pressure, but not all of it. And not being able to tell anyone about it sucked.
Knowing Trace saw me, that he understood a little of it… it mattered.
Fuck, I’d missed this.
“Thank you,” I whispered, not trusting myself to say more.
We walked in silence for a little while before he spoke again. “If you could have a music career right now, what would you want it to look like?”
I scoffed. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be living in a van right now.”
We stepped out of the trees and into the sunlight. The vast expanse of the West Elk Mountain range and Gunnison National Forest spread out as far as the eye could see.
“What’s the worst that could happen, Wolfe?” he asked gently. “If people compare you to your father.”
“My dad might feel guilty that his fame affected me. Even though it’s not his fault.”
Trace shrugged. “Jude’s responsible for his own feelings. He’d never want you to take that on. Otherwise, he’d be feeling guilty for you feeling guilty about him feeling guilty. An endless guilt spiral does no one any good.”
I huffed out a laugh. No one could cut to the heart of the matter like Trace did. I’d fucking missed this too.
“What’s the worst that would happen to you?” he prompted.
It was a question I’d considered often. It made me confront my own ego, determine how bothered I was by other people’s opinions about me.
“I might question my own ability to succeed,” I said, though this was a lie.
It had been true, once. I’d wondered if any success I found in the music industry would be caused by my connection to Jude Marian’s legendary musical legacy. But Fletcher Coe had no connection to Jude Marian. And he boasted the kind of career songwriters all over the world would kill for.
“What’s your definition of success?” Trace wondered.
I shrugged. I didn’t know the answer to that question. I’d already won a Grammy, but I still didn’t feel like I’d achieved it.
Trace lifted my chin and forced me to look at him.
“What if that article you were telling me about earlier said SERA’s success was only thanks to the Marian family?
Said I’d only succeeded because the foundation invested in the organization and helped get it off the ground?
And because the family donated the land the academy sits on? ”
“That would be ridiculous,” I said promptly. “SERA wouldn’t exist without you.”
“What if people didn’t believe that? Would it make my success any less real? Would it make me less successful?”
I barely stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “You’re about as opaque as glass.”
His grin was soft and familiar as the morning light caught the little sunspots on the upper part of his cheek. “Okay, but answer the question.”
“It shouldn’t, I guess,” I said. “But it’s complicated. I—”
Just like with my parents the night of the Grammys, the urge to blurt out the name Fletcher Coe, to tell him the whole truth so we could discuss it, was right there.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I wasn’t strong enough. Not when I didn’t know what this even was.
“What are we doing?” I blurted.
Trace blinked. “Hiking? Talking?”
“No,” I said, flapping a hand between our two chests. “This. Us. Hooking up. Acting like this is… normal. What are we doing? What does this mean? What are we?”
I felt my breath get shallow as Trace’s smile dropped.
“Okay, slow down.” He reached for my flapping hand and put it against the center of his chest. “Take a breath.”