Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
I snorted, the sound coming out like a half sob. “You’re… you’re okay with this? I waited to tell you on an airplane so you weren’t carrying.”
It was a joke. Derek was allowed to bring a weapon on his own plane. But Jude’s laughter broke the remaining ice between us, and Derek even chuckled.
“Were you really that worried?” Derek asked, standing so he could pull me up into a hug. “You looked like you were going to shit your pants. I thought I was your best friend. Surely I deserve more credit than that.”
It wasn’t until he put his big arms around me that I realized how relieved I was. My entire body shook with the adrenaline crash, and tears spilled from my eyes. “Fuck,” I said into the side of his head.
“I love you,” he said gruffly. “You’re my fucking brother.”
He pulled back but kept his hands on my shoulders. “Though maybe I should find another way to say that if you’re gonna be fucking my son.”
Jude groaned, and I shoved Derek back into his seat with my own noise of disgust.
Derek only laughed. “What? I can’t make jokes? Too soon?”
“Fuck off,” I said.
“Gross,” Jude added.
I met Derek’s eye. “I love you, too. I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Never,” he said fiercely. “I trust you with my life. That includes my family.”
His words healed something in me I hadn’t even known was broken. It took me a few minutes to regain my composure, and it didn’t help when Jude leaned forward to pull me into his own hug.
“You’re a good man, Trace. You are everything I want for my son.”
I muttered my thanks and tried to keep from blubbering the rest of the way to Montana.
When the plane landed, I wanted to head straight to my cabin to see if Wolfe was there.
Unfortunately, Derek and Jude had other plans for me first.
27
WOLFE
The first thing I did when I touched down in Legacy was go to Trace’s cabin to leave him another note. I had no doubt he’d find me in Legacy. He’d proven he could always reach me, whether I was on the top of a mountain or buried under a pile of my own fears. But if he made it home before I did, I wanted him to know I’d been here.
When I stepped up to his door today, it was different from the other times I’d been here. I didn’t have to steel myself to pretend I didn’t feel all the things I felt, like I had on the few occasions when I’d been here with my family. I wasn’t swamped with heartbroken rage like I’d been in February, when I’d kissed Trace and kicked off this wild verse of our love song.
Instead, it felt like the little cabin was welcoming me to the place I belonged.
Standing on the porch, I couldn’t help but look through the window. The interior was quiet and tidy. Midday sun shone into the entry from other windows in the room, illuminating the photos on the wall.
I’d seen those photos up close a million times. There were pictures of his accomplishments. SERA and a summit climb. But there were mostly family photos.
A candid shot of Lennon, Rosie, and me doing cannonballs in the pool while Papa laughed and Dad rated us.
A framed photo of Trace with Papa, arms around each other and clinking martinis in celebration of one of Trace’s birthdays. Trace had always made a joke about martinis being too highbrow for him, so my dads had taken him to San Francisco’s fanciest martini bar and force-fed him drinks until his nose turned pink and his eyes glassy.
There was also a photo taken at Trace’s EMT certification. Trace’s expression had been proud, but not nearly as proud as Dad’s had been.
Some people wore their hearts on their sleeves. Some of us wrote them into lyrics. But Trace’s heart was right on that wall… and it was clear every beat of it was for the Marians.
It was a visceral reminder of what he stood to lose if things between us didn’t work out. My parents were his family. We all were.
But it was also a reminder of all we stood to gain. If—when—everything was out in the open, Trace would make space on the wall for pictures of the two of us. I wouldn’t even have to ask.
I grinned to myself and thought maybe I’d ask anyway. Because getting on my knees for Trace would be extremely pleasurable for both of us.
It will work out. It will.
I knew that like I knew the opening chords of “Not Mine.” Like I knew the particular ache of an open B-flat on a cold instrument. Like the back of my hand. Like the laugh lines around Trace Bishop’s eyes.
And I was going to make fucking sure it worked out by ensuring no one could manipulate or blackmail me like Jake had tried to do.