Beautifully Damaged (16 page)

It had a snappy beat but the lyrics were, well, I was blushing just thinking about it, and then I managed, "I couldn't -- I mean I would have to be tripped out and completely bonkers to do that."

He looked over at me and flashed me a prize winning smile. "I know. That's why it would be so hot if you did."

We pulled up in front of my dad's row-house and there he was sitting on the front steps. He looked as he always had with his short, cropped hair, which was the same shade of brown as mine, and eyes that were more hazel than brown. Having worked on the docks, he was built a lot like Trace and even pushing fifty, he was still broad in the shoulders and narrow in the waist.

Trace shut off the engine before looking over at me and for the first time, I saw a hint of panic in his expression. Why the sight of that made my heart melt, I couldn't say.

"I love you, Trace Montgomery."

"I love you, Ember Walsh."

"Come meet my dad."

Trace pressed a kiss in my palm before he climbed out of the car and came around to open my door. My dad moved from the front step to join us at the curb.

"Emmie, my girl," And then I was wrapped in my dad's strong, familiar arms.

"I've missed you, Daddy."

"I've missed you, too."

As we pulled away, I reached for Trace's hand and pulled him closer keeping my eyes on my dad's.

"Dad, Trace Montgomery. Trace, my dad, Shawn Walsh."

I watched as the two most important people in my life shook hands and took each other's measure.

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Call me Shawn, son." My dad's eyes moved to the car behind us before a smile cracked over his face and then his eyes returned to Trace's.

"Couldn't you find anything bigger?"

There was a moment of silence before Trace's head tilted back and he howled with laughter. Just like that, all of the tension just drained from him. Trace grabbed our bags before we followed my dad up the steps and into the house.

"Emmie, you're in your room, Trace you are on the third floor." He stopped halfway up the stairs and turned to Trace before he added, "The stairs creak."

He said nothing more as he turned and continued up the stairs. I couldn't help the chuckle because Trace looked thoroughly chastised.

Trace placed my bag on the floor near my bed before he followed my dad up to his room. A few minutes later there was a light knock on my door.

"Come in, Daddy."

He pushed the door open, and closed it behind him before he walked over to settle on the edge of my bed.

"Where did you meet Trace?"

"At a club. Someone was harassing me and he stepped in and knocked the guy's lights out. He, like you, pegged Lena's character." I moved to join my dad on the bed before I continued in a soft voice.

"He never knew love as a child and something dark from his past has left him believing he is unworthy of love. He's a fighter and he's lethal with his hands."

"I know. I've heard of him."

That surprised me but I moved past that and continued on. "He's good, Daddy. He stands up for what's right and under it all, there's a man who is desperate for love, both giving it and receiving it. Next to you, he's the finest man I've ever known."

My dad was silent for a moment which had me asking, "Do you think you could like him, Daddy?"

He reached over to take my hand as his eyes held mine and then he said, "He brought you home in a tank and didn't argue being put up in the attic even though that boy could probably bench press me with little effort." A smile touched my lips thinking of that one day in the grocery store.

"But mostly, Ember, when he looks at you, he reminds me of how I used to look at your mother so, yes, I can see myself liking him."

I threw my arms around my dad and held him close as he whispered in my ear, "Welcome home, Emmie girl."

My dad went downstairs to brew some tea and I continued putting my things away. There was a knock at the door and I called for Trace to come in. I gave myself a moment to look at him filling the doorway of my childhood room.

"How's your room?"

"I think if your dad could have gotten a cot on the roof he would have."

"I'm his baby girl."

"I know and that's why if he had gotten that cot on the roof, I would have slept on it with no complaints."

"He likes you."

His eyebrow rose at that. "How do you know that?"

"He told me." I walked over to Trace, ran my hands up those arms, which, sadly, were covered under a sweater, before resting them on his shoulders.

"He said that the way you look at me reminds him of how he used to look at my mom."

Trace's arms came around me then and, when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "If that look is the one where I can't believe that you're mine and I'd do anything to make you happy, then I'm guilty as charged."

"All I need to be happy is you."

"You have that, Ember, you already have that."

Trace and I joined my dad in the kitchen where we all sat around the table drinking iced tea and discussing our plans for Thanksgiving.

"How many are coming, Daddy?"

"Four. Hank, Jimmy, Dougie and Jerry. I've got the turkey already defrosting in the refrigerator and bought the potatoes, string beans, cranberries and crescent rolls. Dougie's bringing the wine, Jerry's picking up some pies from Reading Terminal, Jimmy's picking up some pastries from Termini brothers and Hank's bringing the beer."

"Cool. Trace and I can pick up the last few things and I'll start prepping some of the dishes tonight."

"Tell me where and when you need me, Emmie, and I'm there."

"Thanks, Daddy. I think snipping the beans and peeling the potatoes like always is enough."

"You got it. Now, if you don't need Trace, I'd like to show him around the neighborhood and introduce him to some of the guys."

"Take him to the docks and throw him in." I said with a grin but my dad was looking at Trace and shaking his head.

"If anyone is taking a swim, it wouldn't be him. I couldn't budge him with a backhoe. What do you bench press?"

Trace's grin was wicked when he replied, "How much do you weigh?"

My dad's laugh was so nice to hear as he slapped Trace affectionately on the back. "Yup, I like you. Come on, let's go scare my buddies."

Trace stood and placed his glass in the dishwasher before turning to me and pressing a kiss on my forehead.

"See you later, love."

"Have fun. Behave, Daddy."

He kissed my head before he replied, "Always."

I was cuddled up on the sofa in the living room reading
Wuthering Heights
when I heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the front steps. The door opened and in walked my dad and Trace. Judging from the smiles on their faces, their night together had been a success. I bookmarked my page as I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. Trace saw me first and the look in his eyes had my heart pounding in my chest. My dad turned and smiled as he started for the stairs.

"I'm calling it a night. I'm not as young as I used to be." He turned to Trace and put out his hand which Trace immediately shook.

"Thanks for hanging with an old man."

"Thanks for letting me."

"See you in the morning, Emmie."

"Good night, Daddy."

Trace settled next to me, pulling the blanket I was using over his lap, too. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders as I rested my head against his chest and snuggled more firmly against his side.

"Did you have fun?"

"I did but it's some male rite of passage so I can't tell you what we did."

"You bellied up to the bar at Bud's and nursed one beer all night while exchanging whose-is-bigger stories."

A smile spread over Trace's face as he reached up and touched my nose. "Exactly."

And just like that his mood changed as he shifted his position so he could frame my face in his hands before he lowered his head to mine.

"Do you think your dad will mind if we make out on the sofa?"

"I've never made out on the sofa before."

"Really, well, there's always a first time for everything." And then his mouth was on mine as he wrapped me in his arms and pulled me across his lap. Oh boy, I really liked making out on the sofa.

Two days later it was Thanksgiving and I had gotten up at six to get the turkey in the oven before going back to bed until eight. When I came downstairs again, I was surprised to find Trace already up, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt. He looked so perfect standing there that I felt both pleasure and pride.

My attention was pulled from his most excellent form when he started chopping celery and onions like a chef on the cooking channel. I had seen him cook before but I never really paid attention to the fact that he knew his way around a kitchen like a professional chef and I wondered how he learned to cook like that?

"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked and Trace looked at me from over his shoulder.

"I picked it up when I was younger."

I suspected he was being cryptic on purpose and wondered about that, too, but I didn't want to press it so instead moved further into the kitchen and stopped just behind him to press a kiss right between his shoulder blades.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?"

He placed the knife down before he turned around and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Surprisingly well, once I got past thinking of you in that bed of yours all alone."

I tilted my head and studied him before I said, "I tried sneaking into your room but my dad's right; the stairs do creak."

His expression turned serious, almost tragic, and something I couldn't quite discern flashed in those eyes before he said, "It's your dad's house. We have to respect his wishes."

An odd chill went through me at the hollowness of his tone and the hard glint in his eyes suddenly made me suspicious that what he was saying and what he was thinking were two different things.

"Trace."

I watched as he came back to himself and I saw the tenderness return to his eyes. He held me more tightly as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss on my lips. His mouth lingered for a moment and then he said, "I've got to finish the stuffing."

"I'll help. We have an hour before the parade starts."

He pulled back and grinned down at me. "You watch the parade?"

"Every year! It's my favorite part of the day, well, outside of the food and company, of course."

"Have you ever watched it in person?"

"No, that's not the same. I like being toasty warm in my house with my coffee and a fire. What about you?"

"I've never watched the parade."

I knew I looked incredulous but how could someone have lived twenty-eight years and never have seen the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade?

"Not even on television?"

"No, but I do so look forward to experiencing it for the first time with you."

He kissed my nose and then turned to pick up the knife before he said, "If you wash the sweet potatoes, I'll chop them."

I started toward the pantry wondering what the hell kind of childhood he had?

Growing pains could be such a bitch. Trace and I were attempting to assimilate ourselves into the each other's lives. My life was pretty simple. Outside of Trace, there were only a handful of friends, the closest of whom was Trent.

For me, I got along just fine with Trace's fighter-friends but it was the women, the hordes of women, with whom I was having a bit of trouble. It was very hard to watch the familiarity of a hand on his arm accompanied by the knowing look, the one that said "I've seen you naked." To know that the deeply intimate acts we shared in the bedroom had been shared with countless others --yeah, I wasn't having an easy time of it.

I knew that he came home to me, that it was I who shared not just his bed but his life yet I still in good conscience couldn't admit that it was true. Sure, he shared his fighting and his friends but his past, his family, and the dark secrets that still haunted him -- no, he didn't share any of that. I was hopeful though that in due time, he would feel more comfortable around me and would open up after we were together longer since we had only been together for a short while.

On the personal front, I decided that it was time to take a more active role in my career as a writer and, as much as I loved working at Clover with the unreal tips, I didn't want to lose sight of my dreams. Writing novels is fun and I knew at some point that I'd have a story to tell but in the interim, I wanted to get into journalism. I knew that catching a break in journalism would be hard since most publications were suffering from the trend toward publishing on-line in real-time instead of printed periodicals.

I applied for a few positions with local on-line journals and was ecstatic when I got a call for an interview at the place I was dreaming about working. The job would be writing about current events, focusing mostly on the arts. I nailed the interview but they had other applicants to consider so I was doing the waiting game. With any luck I'd have my own by-line for one of New York City's premiere, on-line magazines,
In Step
.

To celebrate my successful interview, Trace and I went to an up-and-coming jazz bar, and while he was off getting us drinks, I sat at a table listening to some seriously good blues.

A shadow fell over me and I looked up into the pale blue eyes of a woman. It took me a minute to place the face but she was the one who Trace had brought to Clover for the fundraiser. She really was beautiful but then she opened her mouth reminding me that she was also a shrew.

"So, you're Trace's flavor of the month. Welcome to the club." She then pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, brushing her long, pale hair behind her so it cascaded down her slim back like a golden waterfall.

"I'm Heidi."

"Ember."

"You were the waitress that night, weren't you?"

"Yes."

She leaned back but kept her eyes fixed on me. "So it looks like you got him for more than an evening. How exactly did you pull that off?"

"I love him; he loves me."