CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

Six weeks later

 

Harry kept looking at Trace, sitting next to him in the upper class section of the commercial aircraft as the jet gained altitude. It was evening so the cabin lights were dimmed, which was a good thing because Trace looked like he’d been through the meat grinder. He would have freaked everyone out in first class with his disheveled appearance.

The man had barely made the flight, a red-eye from Budapest to Washington. Harry had been waiting for Trace at Ferenc Liszt International Airport in Budapest for six hours, praying the man would make it. He’d been in communication with Trace daily for the past five weeks, using their ground contacts to follow and finally locate Nathalia Nevredevova and her henchmen. Two days ago Trace had informed him that he was about to make his move. The rendezvous at Budapest’s airport had been set. All Trace had to do was finish his duty and make that plane.

Damn, he’d cut it close.

It had been one of the few glitches in a mission that had otherwise gone smoothly. It had actually been fairly easy to locate Nathalia because she was arrogant like her father and traveled in the open for the most part with an armed escort that would have put the American president’s detail to shame. She also liked to spend money and would haunt high-end shops to spend her father’s millions on purses and furs and shoes.

Therefore, it really hadn’t been difficult to find the woman. Trace, being familiar with her locale, her friends, and her usual places, simply went back to the area he knew she was operating in. Her family practically owned the city of Zhytomyr and that was where he started. With a three-man cell shadowing his every move and feeding him intel, Trace went back into the thick of it to remove Nathalia from power. He kept his eye on the prize, on the hope for a peaceful life for him and Kiki when all was said and done, and that’s the beacon of light that kept him going.

He needed that beacon considering how he and Kiki had parted. Every day, thoughts of her filled his heart and mind and every day, he was torn apart by his own sense of selfishness and dishonesty when it came to her. She had been right, about everything, and he wanted so badly to tell her that. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get the opportunity but he’d made the decision early on that no matter what happened, he would return to her when he was finished with his mission. He would go back to that half-finished house and find closure, good or bad.

Even if she didn’t want to see him again, she could at least tell him to his face that she no longer wanted to see him. But that would have to come from her. Until she said it and he walked away, forever, he was going on the hope that whatever had happened between them was fixable. If he thought of it any other way, he couldn’t go on.

And he had to go on.

So he pushed forward, entrenching himself in the Ukraine once again. It was so strange; even though he hadn’t been there for a few years, it was as if he never left. The smells were still the same, the sights and sounds as he remembered them. Everything smelled like gasoline and cabbage. He couldn’t describe it any other way. All he knew was that he hated it.

But he plugged on, shadowing Nathalia and her men, showing up in outdoor cafes and nightclubs and shopping venues where she was. He was scouting out her security these days, wanting to get a handle on how easy it would be to abduct her. He found that she was the sloppiest in the nightclubs, where she would wander around while her detail stayed to the tables. That was the Nathalia he knew; she wanted to be seen as single and sexy and she couldn’t do that with a bunch of goons hanging around her.

Finally, five weeks after arriving in the Ukraine, Trace had his chance to get to her. He had planned his moves, his escape, and nothing was going to stop him. If anything did, it would be those goons with the Glock 9mm guns concealed beneath their sport coats. But he wasn’t going to make an easy target for them.

The Eliminator was back and he was meaner than ever.

It was a nightclub called the Crystal Sky and he’d come in through the kitchens, mingling with the workers and finally the patrons to lose himself in the crowd. Nathalia was there that night with girlfriends, which was unusual for her. She usually didn’t like the competition. Trace paid a handsome young man in a crisp silk suit to ask her to dance and take her into a private room. When the young man brought her into the room with promises of dancing and even sex, Trace was waiting for her.

Like the spider to the fly, he had her.

The young man, very well paid, quickly left the room as Trace swooped in on Nathalia, who tried to scream but he managed to render her unconscious before dragging her out through the back of the club. Meanwhile, the young man left the club without Nathalia’s goons being wise to what had happened. They thought she was in the back having sex with the guy and waited at least two hours before going to look for her. By that time, it was too late. Trace had her out of the city.

And that was the last anyone ever saw of Nathalia Nevredevova.

It was an odd event for Trace, really. Hands that had touched Kiki so tenderly were capable of killing. It was his job, his duty, but the fact remained that he was fully capable of such things. It was a strange dilemma, to be sure, but he tried not to think about it. After the task was completed, Trace had stolen a car and made a mad dash for the border of Hungary and then on to Budapest where his flight back to the States waited.

He didn’t think he’d been followed, but he kept changing highways, taking smaller roads, all of it designed to throw off any tails that might be on to him. He’d just taken out the head of the Nevredev Cartel. It wasn’t until he’d entered Hungary on his American passport that he’d heard, in a restaurant when he’d stopped to grab some food, that the Nevredev Cartel had fractured in the wake of Nathalia’s death. Fractured and destroyed, or at least that was what the news anchor had said. And with that news, Trace breathed a sigh of relief.

He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do.

Now, he found himself on a plane next to Harry as the aircraft ascended to cruising altitude. Neither man had said a word, at least not yet. Trace kept his focus on the view from the window as the plane soared into the night sky. It wasn’t until they were nearly a full hour into their flight that Harry finally spoke.

“Are you okay, Trace?” he asked quietly.

Trace nodded. “Fine.”

“Is there anything you need?”

“No.”

Harry didn’t say anything more. He glanced across the aisle where the two other intel men sat, lifting his eyebrows at them as if to suggest that Trace wasn’t fine at all. But no one pushed the man. The Eliminator had been in action one last time and the results were impressive. It was his prerogative if he wanted to talk about it or not.

Chances were that he wouldn’t until he was forced to.

A flight attendant came around with glasses of champagne for the upper class passengers and Harry took two, silently handing one over to Trace. Trace took the glass, downed it in one swallow, and then took Harry’s glass and downed that one, too. It was then, and only then, did he speak.

“I saw the news when I crossed the border into Hungary,” he said. “Is it true?”

Harry knew what he meant. “It’s true,” he said. “Nevredev is so fractured they’ll never recover. No one gives a damn about Nathalia and her petty crap, and especially about her sense of vengeance when it came to you. It’s over, man. You did it.”

Trace took a deep breath, pondering that information. The flight attendant came back with more champagne and he took two more flutes, downing them like shots of tequila. Harry quietly asked the flight attendant to bring them a bottle. When the man left to go up front for the alcohol, Harry turned to Trace.

“Ease up, Trace,” he said quietly. “It’s over. You did your job and it’s over.”

Trace was feeling the alcohol in his veins a bit. “You’re damn right it’s over,” he said. “I’ve done my bit for king and country and you’re going to leave me the hell alone from now on. I’m going back to California and back to Kiki, if she’ll have me. I don’t want to see your ugly face again.”

Harry sighed faintly. “I thought you said she wasn’t speaking to you.”

Trace grunted, unhappy and weary. “I don’t know what she’s doing,” he said. “All I know is that I’m going to go back to her and try to make things right between us. I should have told her everything from the start, Harry. It wasn’t that she was upset about my job or my past. It was the fact that I kept it from her and didn’t let her in on what I thought about the break-in at her house and the fact that Ukrainian operatives might be after me. It was the omission of the truth she was upset with and she had ever right.”

Harry had heard this before, the night they had departed Los Angeles International Airport for Dulles in Washington. He looked at Trace, dirty and beaten and bloodied, smelling like he hadn’t had a shower in a week.

“If she doesn’t take you back, I will,” he said. “You’re the best of the best, Trace. The past five weeks were like old times again, when you and Marcos were an unbeatable team. You know we need men like you and for you to walk away… well, I’ve said it before. It’s a waste of material.”

Trace scratched his head, exhausted and agitated. “Maybe,” he said. “But I can’t do this anymore. It took everything I had to come here and do this job and now that it’s over, I have nothing left. I don’t want to be operating alone for the rest of my life, Harry. I want a partner in life and that’s Kiki. I want a nice, normal job and her to come home to every night. It’s the fairytale I want.”

“Is that all it is? A fairytale?”

Trace shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I just meant that every time I look at her, or touch her, it feels like a fairytale. It feels like everything I’ve ever dreamt of and I’m not about to let that go. I’ll beg, plead, and cry any way I have to in order to have her forgiveness.”

Harry simply nodded. “Then I wish you luck, I really do,” he said. “But before you do that, you have a debriefing when you arrive in Washington. The State Department and our department heads are going to want your entire report. When that’s done, you can go back to California.”

Trace knew the routine. He’d been through it enough times before. He leaned his head against the back of the seat, relaxing for the first time in weeks. He’d slept little and ate even less during his hunt for Nathalia and now it was just starting to dawn on him that he could finally relax. He could finally breathe.

This time, it was really over for good.

“I didn’t mean what I said, Harry.”

“About what?”

“About not seeing your ugly face again. You’re welcome to come to California any time.”

Harry smiled ironically. “Your lady friend may not want to see me,” he said. “She may have a bigger grudge against me than she has against you for pulling you back into this.”

Trace shook his head. “She won’t have a grudge,” he said. “She’s got a remarkable capacity for forgiveness and I can’t believe that would end with me. Did I ever tell you about her husband dying about a year ago?”

Harry shook his head. “You haven’t told me much about her at all.”

Trace’s entire body began to relax even more, especially now with thoughts of Kiki on his mind. He turned his head, looking out of the window into the brilliant night sky.

“Her husband died suddenly last year of a heart attack,” he murmured, thoughts of Kiki heavy on his brain now. “At the funeral, some guy showed up and to make a long story short, this guy turned out to be her husband’s gay lover. But you know what? She forgave him. I wouldn’t have been so magnanimous but she found it in her heart to forgive the man. I just can’t believe that she can’t forgive me, too. She’s too compassionate and reasonable a woman not to. But I’m not going to assume anything. And I’m not going to give up, not ever.”

Harry listened to him ramble, rather sleepily now. The four shots of champagne were taking effect. He felt rather sorry for a man as torn up as Trace was. Love and duty and forgetting one’s past sometimes didn’t mix but he hoped for Trace’s sake that it would work out. The man deserved a little happiness for once and that fairytale that people only dreamed about.

“Well, I’m sure it will all work out in the end,” he said. “Meanwhile, get some sleep. You’ve earned it.”

The words weren’t even out of his mouth before he heard Trace snoring.

 

 



 

 

The house was silent and still at dusk. The Santa Ana winds had picked up again, clearing the sky and giving way to a spectacular sunset.

Inside the old kitchen with its old linoleum floor, Kiki was making a light supper for herself. She hadn’t eaten much in the past several weeks, ever since that disastrous dinner of chicken and waffles that she’d made for Trace. She just couldn’t face cooking anything with enthusiasm anymore, ever since that night when his past had come to light and she hadn’t been able to handle it.

God, it seemed so long ago. Like a lifetime ago. That night, she’d retreated to her room and hadn’t come out until noon the next day, when she heard his truck fire up and leave the driveway. It was so strange; she was so confused about everything and as long as she knew he was outside of her door, she couldn’t face him. She was angry with him, and terrified for him, and terrified for her and her children. He’d frightened her so much with what he’d told her and all of the begging in the world, the pleading for her to be understanding, couldn’t ease that fear. It was something she’d had to settle in her own mind.

It was something she needed to do without looking into his anxious face. She just didn’t want to look at him, knowing he’d selfishly put her in harm’s way. But the moment his truck left the driveway, she’d come out of her room and went downstairs to find Stanley snoring on his bed in the kitchen with a rolled up piece of paper stuck into his collar. It had been enough to soften her, just a bit, as she’d pulled the note out and read it.

 

Words can’t express how much I love you. I’m sorry if you feel betrayed. I’m sorry if I hurt you. Please know I wouldn’t have knowingly done that for the world. But if you don’t want me to come back, I understand. I just want you to be happy.

All my love,

Trace

 

The gentle note had dissolved her into tears, once more, and she’d sobbed off and on the rest of the day. She was coming to understand why he’d done what he’d done, struggling to look at it from his perspective, but she was having difficulty reconciling the fact that the man hadn’t been open with her. That was her big hang-up. At least if he had been honest, especially after the break-in, she would have had time to reconcile herself to the way things were going to be. But he hadn’t; he’d kept it from her and she had fallen hard for what she had believed to be a nice, normal guy. But he hadn’t been normal in the least.

He was a killer.

Truthfully, that part didn’t really bother her. He was a spy, a patriot, and that wasn’t an issue. In fact, she was rather proud that he was so dedicated to his country. But the lack of openness… she was coming to think that maybe he just didn’t know how to be open. Being a CIA operative, it wasn’t like he could talk about his job. Maybe he’d just gotten used to concealing everything, even from someone he loved. He’d dug himself into a hole with Kiki and by the time he’d been forced to tell her the truth, she felt blindsided, like their entire relationship had been a lie.

But it wasn’t a lie. She loved him and that was the truth. He was kind and generous and humorous, and they laughed a lot and enjoyed many of the same things. He loved her girls and he loved her stinky dog. He was great at conversation, intelligent to a fault, and she loved the way he looked at her. Such a sexy, smoldering look that set her on fire. By five o’clock on the day he’d left, her resistance was coming down and she called his cell phone but was met with a message that it was no longer in service. Sick and depressed, all she could do was pick up the pieces of her life, the new life she’d wanted to start for herself in Pasadena, and move on.

Now, all of these weeks later, that’s where she found herself but with some changes. She stopped all work on the house even though she had a contract with Rocklin. She’d called Shaun two days after Trace had left and told him that she was putting the restoration on hold indefinitely. She gave him a lot of financial reasons and he gallantly told her he’d hold the price for the next few months, but the truth was that she really didn’t know what she wanted to do.

Rocklin Construction reminded her of Trace and she just couldn’t face seeing their trucks every day, slapping her in the face with what she’d lost. Rick Rocklin had even come to see her but she hadn’t answered the door. She watched him come and go from a window, hidden from view. She didn’t want to talk to him, either. It seemed that all of her dreams left with Trace and she didn’t want to face those memories anymore. Now, she just wanted out.

There was a For Sale sign in front of the house now and she’d had a lot of activity on it. It had been listed for eight days and she’d had a dozen people come through it with three possible offers. She was asking a lot, more than she’d bought it for, but people seemed willing to pay it with the finished floors, partially finished walls, completed electrical and plumbing.

After selling the house, her big plans consisted of moving in with her parents until she could figure out what she wanted to do. She was defeated and crushed, and that lovely future she’d hoped for with Trace was gone. It was all she could do now to get out of bed every morning.

So the light supper she’d made herself on this evening was the first meal she’d had all day. Stanley sat next to her chair, hoping for a piece of chicken from her salad, and she fed the dog a couple of pieces while she absently watched the evening news. She told her mom she’d come over later but she wasn’t feeling much like visiting with her parents, who were genuinely concerned for her. All of the chaos in losing Mark, and now in losing the love of her life in Trace, was proving to be a lot for Kiki to take. The normally strong woman was showing signs of cracking.

As she picked at the salad, she noticed a headline on the news that said something about the Ukraine with a byline of an assassination. Anything about the Ukraine over the past six weeks had Kiki’s interest and she turned up the volume.

“… sources say that she inherited the position from her father, Osto Nevredev, and the Nevredev Cartel was one of the most powerful in the Ukraine. But that all came to a halt several days ago when her body was found in a burned-out car on the outskirts of Kiev near the cemetery where her father was buried. U.S. intelligence officials have hailed her death as a blow against the Nevredev organized crime syndicate, as it seems to be crumbling already with several different factions now vying for control of the Nevredev territory. The U.S. considers this latest development a victory in the war against foreign organized crime. In other news, the stock market has….”

Kiki shut off the television. She sat there for a moment, shocked to the bone at what she’d just heard, but there was no doubt in her mind that Trace had been at the heart of the event. It was everything he’d told her he needed to do and it was evident that he’d carried out his job. I have to go to the Ukraine and eliminate the daughter of a man I was ordered to assassinate.

Dear God… it looked like he had, after all.

The news had her reeling. Now, Trace was all she could think of. She’d done a pretty good job of erasing him from her mind over the past few weeks but now he was back, full-force, and he was all she could think about.

Had he survived? Was he okay? Was he coming home now or had he decided to go back to the CIA? So many questions in her mind. No longer hungry, Kiki stood up from the table and dumped her salad into the trash, feeding a few more pieces of chicken to Stanley as he danced around beside her. The dog grew fat on the food she couldn’t eat as she grew progressively thinner. Her clothes were hanging on her now but she didn’t much care. In truth, she didn’t much care about anything these days.

Except Trace.

Washing her plate, she thought of the last time she saw Trace in this kitchen, as he tried to tell her of his Ukrainian mission, and her heart hurt for him. Everything hurt for him. She’d never missed someone so much in her entire life, wondering for the hundredth time if she’d overreacted when he told her his dark secrets. She still didn’t think she had, but that was all water under the bridge now. Trace was gone, for good, and there was no way for her to contact him to tell him she was sorry for reacting so poorly to his news. She still loved him and always would, but the damage to their relationship had been done.

It was over.

Drying the dish and putting it back in the cabinet, her cellphone rang and she looked at the caller I.D. to see that it was Embry. Distracted from thoughts of dead female mobsters and Trace Rocklin, she answered.

“Hello?”

Embry’s voice was loud and cheery on the other side. “Hi, Mom!” she said. “Es and I are coming up for the weekend, okay?”

Kiki smiled faintly at the sound of her daughter’s voice. “Sure,” she said. “Come on up. I… I haven’t seen you two in a while. Lots to talk about.”

There was music and giggling in the background. “I know,” Embry said. “We’ve just been really busy at school. Sorry we haven’t been up in a while. How is the house coming along?”

The question brought tears to Kiki’s eyes. She hadn’t seen her daughters since they’d met Trace and she had purposely not told them of the drama going on because she really didn’t think they needed to know. She wasn’t one to cry all over someone’s shoulder about her problems and she definitely didn’t want to pull her daughters into her relationship drama, so they didn’t know a thing. They didn’t even know that she was selling the house. She tried not to cry as she spoke.

“It’s still here,” she said. “The floors have been refinished. They’re really gorgeous. It’s a work in progress.”

More music and laughter in the background. “We can’t wait to see it,” Embry said. “How’s the boyfriend?”

Lots of laughter in the background with that question, coming from her two giddy girls, but Kiki nearly broke down. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she struggled not to sound like she was upset.

“Oh… wow,” she said. “Lots to tell you about that, too.”

“Really? What?”

“We’ll talk about it when you get here.”

A pause. “Mom, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. When will you be here?’

Embry groaned. “We’re on the 5 Freeway heading north,” she said. “We’re only in Del Mar and it’s a parking lot. We’ll be lucky if we’re there by midnight.”

“Okay,” Kiki said. “Drive carefully. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Okay. Love you!”

“Love you both.”

Kiki hung up the phone and set it on the counter, using a paper towel to wipe the tears from her eyes. They were always so close to the surface these days. Over near the back door, Stanley whined to be let out so she opened the door, watching the dog bolt. She thought he must have had to relive himself badly to move that fast, so she left the door open while she went in search of her shoes.

Kiki liked to walk the yard a lot, looking at the plants that were beginning to take shape, and inspecting the property that would soon belong to someone else. She’d whispered apologies to the house a thousand times about that; apologizing that she was too weak to face the memory of Trace within the old walls. She hoped the house understood.

In shorty-shorts that were hanging on her slender frame and a tank top that showed a twenty-pound weight loss, she slipped her flip-flops on and went out the back door, following Stanley’s trail. Instinctively, she peered around the backside of the house, over where the driveway was, half-expecting to see Jesse and his camper still parked out on the street.

Jesse had taken his request to watch over her very seriously but Kiki wouldn’t let him in the house after she and Trace parted ways. Jesse told her that Trace had specifically called him from the airport on the day he left for Washington to make sure he kept an eye on her, but Kiki told him to go away and shut the door in his face.

Not to be deterred, Jesse literally camped out on the street every night in his pickup truck, now fitted with an overhead-cab camper on the back. It went on for at least a month until Pasadena Parking Enforcement laid two big tickets on him and then he’d had to go. By then, there was no more construction at the house, no more people, and Kiki clearly didn’t want him there. Dejected, Jesse had given up his post but Kiki still half-expected to see him there.

She rather missed him, too.

It was rather warm on this mid-December day as she ambled around her yard, pulling at weeds and looking at the new growth that was trying to sprout. The fountain, that massive and impressive thing, was flowing away at full-steam and she spent a lot of time by it, finding peace in the lily pads and little fish that were now swimming about.

She glanced up every once in a while, seeing Stanley up by the front gate, nosing around in the bushes. He disappeared into a big nest of vines and bushes near the gate itself and she could hear him moving around in the bramble. As the dog nosed around, she turned back to the water, watching the fish and thinking how much she would miss the fountain when she left.

The fountain. It was such a beautiful feature. It was the first place she’d ever laid eyes on Trace and every time she saw it, it reminded her of him. How many conversations had they had about the fountain as the center of the wedding venue, where people could get married against it, soothed by the sounds of the waters from the Agua de la Vida? Trace had had some very big plans for the area surrounding the fountain – laying paver stones that would look like a vintage pathway and growing flowering vines behind it so it would make a beautiful backdrop in pictures. He’d had some great ideas for it but they were ideas that would never come to fruition now. At least they got the fountain running, though.

The wedding fountain.

That’s what it would always be to her.

She swirled her hand in the waters of the fountain, watching the fish amongst the lily pads, hearing Stanley off behind her still rummaging through the leaves. She caught sight of some weeds over to her right, on the other side of the fountain, and she went over to them, kneeling down to pull them up. Even if she was leaving the house, still, the garden was special to her. The whole house was important to her. It was breaking her heart to sell it. Stanley was behind her by then, brushing up against her leg, and she happened to glance over at the dog.

And then, she saw it.

A piece of paper attached to Stanley’s collar. It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing and, greatly puzzled, she reached out to take it. Suddenly, she was seized with excitement and hope and… oh, God, is it really a note in his collar? She grabbed at it and pulled it away, only to realize that it was a scrap of trash that had gotten hooked into his collar. It was just part of a flyer that had somehow ended up on the bushes where nosy Stanley had picked it up. Tears of disappointment sprang to her eyes as she crumpled it up and angrily tossed it away.

“Hi.”

A voice came from behind, a male voice, and Kiki was so startled that she ended up falling forward onto her knees. She knew that voice; God help her, she knew that voice and she bolted to her feet, turning around to see that Trace was standing several feet away, back over by the fountain. The sight of him startled her to the bone. Kiki had to slap her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out.

The note in the collar… had it been a sign? She wondered wildly. Had he put it there to break the news that he had come back?

“Oh, my God,” Trace said as he got a good look at her. Tears came to his eyes as he simply stood there and gazed at her. “You’ve lost so much weight. Are you okay? Kiki, why is the house up for sale?”

She could hardly speak. “You… you’re alive.”

He could barely hear her. “Of course I am,” he said gently. “Did you think I wouldn’t be?”

“I… I didn’t know.”

He could see how stunned she was. He repeated his question. “Why is the house up for sale?”

Kiki was having difficulty processing his query, her brain overwhelmed by his unexpected appearance. “Because,” she said. “I… I can’t stay here.”

“Why not?”

A sob bubbled out. “Because I have to go,” she said. “It… this place… you’re everywhere. It reminds me of you and I can’t stay here and see you every hour of every day, in the walls and in the rooms and everything. You’re everywhere.”

His heart sank. “Oh… God,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry, Kiki. I guess I shouldn’t have come back but… but the way we left it... I didn’t know how we left it and I just got back into town. If you don’t want to see me again, I just need to know. I didn’t want to assume anything.”

Tears were brimming in her eyes and she closed them, spilling rivers of tears all over her cheeks and the hands that were still over her mouth. Everything in her was trying to break out into gut-busting sobs but she held fast.

Like a dream from another time, Trace was standing before her in all of his handsome glory. It was a moment she never truly thought would come and there were things she had to say to him. She had to get it out so he could hear it all, whether or not he wanted to.

“I’m sorry I got so mad at you,” she said, her voice tight. “I’m so, so sorry I treated you like that. I had no right… I was scared and what you told me was so overwhelming and I just didn’t handle it well. It was like a nightmare and I just… I just didn’t handle it well at all. I’m so sorry.”

He took a few steps towards her, blinking the tears in his eyes, splattering them. “No,” he said hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I should have told you everything from the beginning but I didn’t want to spoil the beauty of the world we were creating. I didn’t want to mess anything up. Maybe it was my way of pretending nothing but you existed, or had ever existed. You were right when you said that I had put you at risk; I had and I was arrogant to think that I was the only one it was affecting. That was wrong. Even if you don’t want to see me again, to know that you forgive me… I would be grateful if you could.”

He sounded so truly sad and repentant. Her heart, so confused and fragile as of late, still had the capacity for great forgiveness. The whole situation was her fault, his fault, and nobody’s fault. It had just happened, a terribly string of reactions and overreactions that brought them to this place.

But she was the only one who could make it right and she knew it. He was here, begging for forgiveness. She did the only thing she could do.

“Of course I forgive you,” she said. “I never thought I’d have the chance to tell you that. The day you left, I tried to call you but your phone was out of service. I figured you just… well, that you just didn’t want to talk to me or anyone else anymore. After the way I screamed at you, I don’t blame you. I thought you were gone forever.”

He wiped the moisture on his face, a faint glow coming to his eyes. It was the glow of hope, that maybe whatever had happened between them really wasn’t the end. It was that hope that had kept him going for the past six weeks. Every time he felt like giving up, or every time he reached an obstacle that seemed insurmountable, that hope was there, the hope that Kiki would still be there at the end of the rainbow.

“No,” he said softly. “Not gone forever, not by a long shot. I’m not angry with you. I never was. I just want to make things right between us again, Kiki. Is that even possible?”

She pondered that a moment. “I think so,” she said. “I hope so. Trace, I was selling the house because of it reminds me of you. It wasn’t because I hated you or couldn’t stand the thought of you. It was because of the pain I felt every time I remembered you standing in the kitchen or sitting on the porch. Your imprint is everywhere. I really didn’t think you were coming back to me and I just couldn’t stay here any longer.”

He smiled faintly, a massive amount of relief in his expression. “You are the only thing that has kept me going,” he said. “I love you more than I ever did, Kiki. I swear to you that there won’t be any more withholdings or half-truths. It’s just that I’ve operated that way for the past twenty years. I’ve had to in order to protect my identity. I did it with you and I shouldn’t have. I swear to you I won’t ever do that again.”

Her pale lips twitched with a smile. “I believe you.”

“Do you really?”

“I do.”

“Can we fix this, then?”

It was the question she wanted to hear, the hope for a future she thought she’d lost. At that point, she couldn’t even hold back; she ran at him and he opened his arms out to her. She remembered throwing herself into his embrace, but little else after that. It was as if she were in a fog, something that filled her and hazed her mind, but it was a fog of relief and passion and adoration like nothing she had ever experienced. All of it, the fog and the joy and the passion, was Trace.

He was back, and he was here to stay.