The moment I have that thought, Virginia calls out from the rear of her house next door. “Danni?”
“Everything’s fine, Virginia.” Squinting at Cole, I whisper, “What am I supposed to tell her? How do I explain your reappearance?”
What do I tell my sister, my parents, and everyone else in my life? Maybe he won’t be around long enough to say anything. I press the heel of my hand against the pang in my chest.
“I have a cover story.” Cole grabs his duffel bag from the driveway and strides toward my back door. “For now, just…don’t say anything.”
When he slips inside my house, I approach the short metal fence between the backyards and bend over it to see Virginia.
“What’s all that ruckus?” She stands in her doorway, wearing a flowery robe and house slippers, her white hair rolled in pink curlers.
“It was me.” Trace leans beside me and braces his forearms on the fence. “Good morning, Virginia.”
“Don’t good morning me, young man.” A cane appears in her hand and she points it at him. “I know that wasn’t you hollering.”
Fuck. She can’t see shit, but her hearing is better than mine on most days.
“He has a cold.” I grab Trace’s hand and pull him away from the fence. “I’m taking him inside before it gets worse.”
“Hm, well…” Suspicion creaks through her voice. “Make sure he drinks hot tea and gargles salt water.”
“Got it.” I release Trace’s hand and head toward the back door.
As I reach it, he hooks an arm around my waist and pulls my back to his chest. “I’m not letting you go.”
My heart pounds, and I compulsively slide my fingers over his against my hip. I love him so fucking much, but that love feels trampled and wounded beneath a thousand unanswered questions.
“It killed me to watch you grieve for two years.” He rests his forehead against the back of my head. “But I couldn’t give you hope without knowing with absolute certainty he was coming back. I needed to see you heal.”
Warmth fills my chest, expanding my ribs. His constant concern for me is one of the countless reasons I fell in love with him. But… “You proposed to me, knowing he might come back. What did you think would happen?”
“Proposal or no proposal, there was no stopping what was happening between us.” He turns me in his arms and cradles my face in his hands. “The day you told me you loved me changed everything.”
Our eyes connect and fasten. Whenever I tumble into that blue gaze, it doesn’t matter where I’ve been or how far I have to go, because this is the moment, the bright spark of belonging and grace, that’s worth fighting for.
I don’t understand the enigma of love, only that it holds me hostage, cares for and worships me, abandons and breaks me, and always lures me back for more. I’m greedy for it. For him.
“I feel deceived, Trace. By both of you.” I grit my teeth. “I don’t know what to think about your omissions and secrets. And Cole better have a damn good reason for disappearing, for letting me believe he was dead all this time.”
“He’ll have the best reason of all.” His voice is gruff, dejected, as his attention drifts over my shoulder at the closed door behind me. “Protecting you is the only reason he would’ve stayed away.”
I step back, anxious to go inside and get answers, but Trace tightens his grip on my jaw.
“I’m not giving up on us.” He bends his knees, putting us at eye level. “I will never ever walk away from you.”
I can only nod. His declaration both thrills and terrifies me.
Since Cole didn’t die, does that mean I’m engaged to two men? What if I can’t forgive either of them? What if I lose them both in the end?
My heartbeat quickens, stomping through my veins. What am I going to do?
Deep breath. Cole owes me a lot of answers. He left me for over four years, and it’s going to take a saving children from a burning building type of excuse to abolish everything he put me through.
When I open the back door, he’s not in the dance studio. I’m trembling with anxiety by the time I reach the kitchen. I still don’t see him, but he’s here somewhere. In my house, in the home we shared, where we made so many memories together. I met him right outside the front door. Kissed him goodbye on the porch. Mourned him for years within these walls. My mind is having a helluva time accepting his resurrection.
I pause at the coffee maker, desperately needing caffeine for the impending conversation.
“I dropped my mug on the driveway,” I say numbly.
“I’ll clean it up later.” Trace removes three cups from the cabinet.