Elect(68)

Chapter Forty-two


Chase


The moonlight outlined Trace’s tearstained face as she sat in my lap on the bed. “Say something, Chase.”

“Sleep.” I touched my forehead to hers. “We’re both tired and emotional. We’ll sleep and go to lab tomorrow… get you coffee and try to go about life as normal.”

“What about you and me?” Trace outlined my jaw with her index finger. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion.

“We’ll talk in the morning.” I gently lay down on the bed and held up my arm for her to rest on me. She sighed and laid her head on my chest. Within seconds her breathing had deepened. And I was stuck staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I was going to explain to Nixon—that is if he survived—that I had taken from him the one thing he was actually living for.

Sunlight peeked through the windows. Trace’s arm was draped over my chest. I traced little circles along its length, content with merely watching her as she slept, knowing that in my arms she was safe—from everything.

The door burst open.

There was Tex. I thought he’d better have a damn good reason for barging in on us. His eyes scanned the bed and then the floor where I usually slept and then went back to the bed. He swallowed and blinked a few times, still saying nothing, but words weren’t really necessary. He had to know. It was evident from the way we were holding on to one another. Everyone was moving on; damn if it didn’t hurt like hell to keep growing, to keep going.

Tex took a step into the room. “I just wanted to know if you guys wanted coffee. Mo’s making breakfast and… well, it just seemed like it would be nice for all of us to eat together—like we used to before…” His voice trailed off.

Guilt gnawed at me all over again.

But I was unable to say anything to put him at ease. “Sure man, just give us a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.” He backed out of the room. “If it’s any consolation. I know you love her.”

His words made my hand freeze to a stop. The guilt grew and grew. “I do. I love her.”

“So did he.” Tex nodded and walked out of the room. And I was officially exhausted. I was on borrowed time either way. And so was Trace; she just didn’t know it.

“Hey,” I whispered into her hair. “Sleepyhead, we’ve gotta get up. You’ve got lab with Luca, and maybe I’m too hopeful that you’ll burn down the entire building.”

“I don’t burn things,” came her grumbling response. “What time is it?”

She lifted her head and blinked a few times, as if trying to make the image of my face less fuzzy. The breath hitched in my chest. She was so beautiful. Her golden brown eyes bored into mine as a lock of hair fell across her face. I couldn’t find the words. I seriously felt like an idiot because I was totally gawking at her like I’d just lost my mind.

“Chase?” She squinted. “You all right?”

No. I was dying. Seriously dying inside… How could I go on without her in my life? Knowing what it was like to wake up next to her? To hold her in my arms. The familiar pain streaked across my chest, weighed on me as if I’d just been buried under the ocean.

“Um, yeah, just tired. You snore, by the way.”

She scowled. “You sound like Nixon.”

The room fell silent. I didn’t know what to do to make it better, so I simply shrugged and laughed. “Well, we were more like brothers.”

And shit. It was like I hadn’t actually thought about that until now.

Hell. Cousins with some messed-up parentage that almost made us look like brothers. Both in love with the same girl. Weird, because it was like we shared parents, too, or they shared each other—however you wanted to look at it. There had to be some law about that, or something in the Bible that said you’d be condemned to Hell for coveting your cousin’s girlfriend. The same cousin who technically looked a hell of a lot more like your brother and who your real dad parented. Shit, it was messed up. On the bright side, at least Nixon and Trace weren’t married. Right, because that somehow made it less horrible.

“I’m just going to go shower, okay?” Trace interrupted my dark thoughts and walked over toward the bathroom. I grabbed my stuff and went to the hall bathroom. Within fifteen minutes I was ready to go. I threw on my Eagle Elite uniform, black slacks with a white button-up shirt, red sweater vest, and jacket—and made a beeline for the kitchen. The smell of sausage and eggs assaulted me.

“Hey, Harry Potter, glad you could make it,” Tex called from the table.

“You’ve been saving that one for four years, haven’t you.” I shook my head. “Lame, and this looks nothing like Harry Potter. Don’t be an ass just because you don’t have to go to class on Thursdays.”