Shaking, Chase set down the book and laughed awkwardly. “Um, any chance your grandma was psychic or something?”
Trace’s mouth was still hanging open. “Um, no, no chance. What the hell?”
“Alzheimer’s?” Chase pleaded, ignoring Trace’s question.
“No.”
“High? Was she high a lot?”
“Chase!” I smacked him. “Seriously?”
“How else would she know?” Chase pointed at the book. “How else would she know about you—”
“That’s just the thing,” Mo piped in. “How do we know it’s Nixon she’s talking about? And not Tex? Chase? Any guy?”
“Good point.” I licked my lips and watched as Chase’s eyes lit up. Oh, hell no. “But”—I cleared my throat—“chances are, she’s just saying ‘him’ as an example, right? I mean, who knows.” Chase handed the book back to Trace.
“Right,” Trace whispered and held the journal close to her body. “I think we should all… go to bed. Maybe reading that first entry will help me remember?”
Tex yawned. “Fine, but if I dream of your grandma having sex, I’m coming into your room and firing a gun into the ceiling.”
“You do realize that the bathroom is directly above her bedroom?”
Tex shrugged. “So pray I don’t hit the toilet tank.”
“Gross.” Trace rolled her eyes while Mo hit him again and waved good night to everyone.
Leaving me, Trace, and Chase awkwardly looking at each other. Whoever said threesomes were a good idea was clearly deranged.
“I, um… I’ll just be in the room.” Chase brushed by me and jogged down the hall.
Tracey’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched him run away like a scared deer. “Is he okay?”
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“He’s not himself.” Her eyes met mine. “I mean, he’s acting like he hates me one minute, then the next it’s like he’s going to break down and cry. Chase never cries.”
“Chase never cries.” I tilted her chin toward my face. “He’s fine, I think the pressure’s just getting to him. After all, he’s trying to still pass his senior-year classes, protect you, and not have a nervous breakdown all before he turns twenty-two.”
“But why aren’t you acting that way?” Her face appeared so dejected. I couldn’t tell her the truth—that Chase was acting that way because he was a man in a tough spot. And she was only making it tougher. I wasn’t sure if I should just tell her in order to get her to lay off for a while, or just let things play out.
Her lips curved into a smile. “Something’s on your mind.”
“You.” I kissed her nose. “You’re always on my mind.”
“Good.” She hugged me and inhaled against my t-shirt. “Can we be together tonight?”
With a heavy sigh I shook my head. “Trace, I wish we could. I know our security is the shit, the house is on lockdown, we have men everywhere, but it’s a huge risk. If something happened and you were in my room and someone happened to see it was me and not Chase? Yeah, I’m not willing to take that chance.”
“Then why don’t I just stay in my own room?”
I tucked her hair behind her ear. “Because, I don’t trust any of my men as much as I trust Chase. He would take a bullet for you without blinking.” Which both aggravated me and made me relieved. He’d do anything for her—I was counting on that loyalty to keep her safe from death—but from him? Jury was still out. At this point I didn’t trust anyone. I just knew that if Chase was taking care of the love of my life, at least I could sleep at night knowing she wasn’t in danger.
“But—”
I pressed my finger to her lips. “I love you. And I promise, this weekend, I’ll find a way for us to be together. Would you like that?”
“Yes!” She pointed her finger in my face. “But it better be a date. A real date, with real food, and fun and—”
“Stop trying to tell me how to be a man. Pretty sure I rock at the date stuff.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right, because last time we didn’t get chased by men with guns.”
I shrugged. “First date bad luck. Nothing more.”
Her laughter was like balm to my damaged heart. “Fine, I trust you.”
“Do you?” I grasped her hand within mine. “Trust me?”
“With everything.”
“Your safety?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Your life?”