Beautifully Damaged(35)

Sometimes it felt as if he didn't even remember that he was sharing an apartment with me but then I'd catch him watching me and I could only describe the look on his face as longing. I really didn't understand why he seemed so determined to keep away from me, when clearly we both wanted the same thing. I wanted to talk with him about it but he was rarely in the apartment any more.

One night I was curled up on the sofa reading when there was a knock at the door. I walked to it and pulled it open to see a beauty of a woman standing there. Her long black hair fell down around her shoulders, her green eyes were large, almond-shaped and thickly lashed and her figure was stunning in the black sheath she wore. She looked me from head to toe and back again and I could tell she thought me no competition before she purred, "Is Trace here?"

My heart just stopped as a numbness stole over my limbs. It was difficult to talk around the lump that had formed in my throat but I did manage, "No, he's not here."

"He told me seven."

It hurt, that damn organ in my chest, as I held the door open for her.

"Would you like to wait inside?"

She brushed past me as if she owned the place before she settled herself on the sofa and lifted my book to see what I was reading. Her eyes found mine and I saw a shrewdness in them when she asked, "Who are you to Trace?"

Good question that I didn't have to answer since at that moment the door opened and Trace walked in. I watched as those eyes moved from me to his date and back again but I couldn't read him. His expression was perfectly blank.

"Are you ready, Siobhan?"

"Yeah, baby."

He walked to her and reached for her hand, linking their fingers. The sight left tears burning the back of my throat. His eyes stayed on me as he brushed his lips over Siobhan's before he patted her on the ass and said, "Wait outside for a second. I need to talk with Ember."

"Hurry," she all but moaned.

I couldn't bring myself to look at Trace so I watched as Siobhan sauntered from the apartment. The flatness of his voice reluctantly pulled my attention.

"This isn't working, Ember. You need to move out."

His voice was so emotionless and his eyes had turned vacant. I knew deep down that there was a reason for what he was doing, one that he believed was in my best interest. I had protests screaming in my head and objections on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't pull any of them into a clear thought. I tried but the shock of his words and his abruptness left an ache in my chest as I felt my heart breaking. I held his hard stare and found the only word that would come to my lips was.

"Okay."

He stood there for a few moments and I swear I saw pain in his eyes but then he turned without another word and walked out. I knew this was coming, knew I'd set myself up for the pain, as Rafe's warning played in my head. I said I wouldn't let Trace just walk away but I realized, standing there in his apartment, that I didn't know if I could reach him. I naively believed that I could befriend him, love him and that would heal him. How stupid was I? I had very little experience with men and certainly no experience when it came to Trace and his damaged past. I wanted him but I was beginning to understand that wanting him was one thing but being good for him -- and him for me -- was something else entirely. Moving out was probably for the best all the way around.

Throughout the following week, Trent and I went apartment hunting. Trace was never in the apartment and I was guessing that he wouldn't be until I left. That seemed a bit harsh and though I tried to convince myself that Trace had my best interest at heart, I had a hard time believing it. After a week-long search, I found a place that I liked and made an offer.

After our shift at Clover, Trent and I walked over to a little hole-in-the-wall jazz club that was having an open-mic night. Trent asked me if I wanted to sing and I shocked even myself when I stood behind the mic and starting singing the sultry sounds of Paula Cole's Feelin' Love. Even more extraordinary was that I didn't lose myself in the music to ignore the crowd; I instead looked out into the smoky room and connected with the audience in a way I never had before.

While engaging the audience, I saw a man standing in the corner and, though it was dark, I knew he was ridiculously handsome. He was leaning against the wall with one foot crossed over the other and his eyes completely on me. It was true that I wanted Trace but wanting something and having something were two entirely different things. It was time for me to accept that Trace and I were never going to happen. It was time for me to move on.

I lost sight of the man after the song ended. Later, as I was having a drink with Trent at the bar, a shadow fell over me. I looked up and there he was. His hair was a warm brown with the lights pulling out the red. His eyes were a startling, bright blue and though he wasn't as tall or as built as Trace, he was still very handsome. When he smiled it was like watching the sun coming out on a cloudy day.