Trace slides his fingers around mine, pulling my attention back to him. I hold his hand on my lap and trace his knuckles. The simple connection makes my chest feel lighter. The soft frown on his mouth heats my blood. And the caress of his gaze on my face makes me feel whole, more alive.
“Tell me a story.” The wind swallows my voice.
He waves at Cole and shouts, “Find a spot to park.”
Cole veers the boat into a quiet inlet enshrouded by trees and turns off the engine. The speakers in the boat crackle, and a second later, a punk rock song thumps on low volume.
Holding the remote to the stereo, Cole moves to the front and sits across from us. Beneath the heat of his stare, I squirm with the urge to put space between Trace and me. But Cole’s jaw is relaxed, his posture reclined and easy. He seems oddly content.
“What kind of story?” Trace hooks an arm around my back and toys with a tangled lock of my hair.
“I want to hear one about the two of you.” I adjust the sunglass on my face. “Something outrageous. The more embarrassing the better.”
Trace stretches his legs across the aisle and rests his feet on the bench seat beside Cole.
He’s wearing boots? They look expensive, the brown leather smooth and scratch-free. Such a drastic departure from his spit-shined loafers.
“I have a story.” The corner of Trace’s lips twists. “We just finished an assignment, and I had to take our rental car through one of those automated carwashes.”
Cole groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of all the stories to tell…”
“This is a good one.” Trace leans back, settling in. “Should I tell her why I needed to wash the car?”
“No,” Cole says at the same time as I say, “Yes.”
“Danni wins.” Trace smirks at Cole before turning to me. “The prior night, we went out to celebrate the success of the mission. Cole celebrated a little too hard.”
“Okay, for the record…” Cole leans forward. “We were in a place where I didn’t speak the language and didn’t know what I was drinking. Whatever they served me hit me sideways.”
“He threw up all the way home with his head hanging out of the window.” Trace grimaces. “Painted the side of the car in Technicolor.”
“Gross.” I laugh.
“Worse, I had to carry his heavy unconscious ass up three flights of stairs. So the next day, I made him go with me to the carwash, and that’s when the damn car broke down.”
“In the carwash?” I widen my eyes. “Were you stuck on those rail things that move the car forward?”
“Yes.” Trace nods at Cole. “He decides to jump out and push.”
“But there were water jets, right?” I shake my head, picturing him soaked to the bone and fuming mad.
“Yeah.” Cole rubs a hand over his head. “My entire leg was in a cast, which by the way, isn’t supposed to get wet.”
I sober. “Why were you in a cast?”
“Just another day on the job.” He winks at me.
“So Cole was out there in a cast,” Trace says, “trying to push a car with a broken leg while the automated scrubbers slapped him in the face.”
“Did you help him?” I arch a brow at Trace.
“Hell, no. I stayed in the car and waited for someone to shut off the water. You know, like a sane person.” Trace rubs small circles on my hand. “But Cole has no patience. He lost his temper, stormed out, and hitchhiked back to the hotel.”
“Not my proudest moment.” Cole sighs.
Maybe not, but I thoroughly enjoyed the story. A few moments pass before another thought pops into my head. “Tell me about the coffee cup yesterday.”
Trace stares out at the lake, his eyebrows pulling together. “The sedative was safe. No aftereffects. It’s not something you’d find on the market, but we’ve used it many times on the job.”
Interesting. “What about the writing on the bottom of the cup?”
He flicks his eyes to Cole. “What writing?”
“It’s not over.” Cole shrugs. “That’s what I wrote.” His soft brown eyes land on me. “I didn’t expect you to see it.”
“Then why write it?” I squint at him. “That message really fucked with my head. I was certain one of your enemies drugged me as part of a revenge mission that wasn’t over.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes briefly. “I thought if you saw it, you would assume it came from Trace or me. I wanted to ease your mind, not freak you out.”
“I never thought you guys would pull something like that, so I jumped to the worst-case scenario.” I blow out a breath. “Doesn’t matter. It’s in the past. I was just curious.”
Cole relaxes, his gaze drifting over the lake. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you, Danni. Given you more than enough reasons to leave.” He meets my eyes. “But I have a new perspective now. Things will be different going forward.”
“How so?” I ask.
“A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tolerate that.” He nods at Trace’s arm around my back. “When I returned home and found you with him, I sank into a miserable headspace full of doubts and insecurity about our future. Every second you spent with him felt like a threat. There were times I questioned if I deserved you, wondered if you’d be better off with him.”
Trace’s hand tightens around mine.
“And now?” My voice cracks.
“We belong together.” Cole’s gaze bores into mine, resolute and unshakable. “I’m more certain about that now than ever before. This…” He gestures to the three of us. “I see it as a journey of trials, like a training course to prepare me for all the obstacles you and I will encounter together in the future.”
It’s just like Cole to view our future together as a foregone conclusion. But the fact that he sees Trace merely as an obstacle to overcome is a little unsettling.
“This isn’t the military.” I frown. “You don’t need a training course to be with me.”
“There’s always room for improvement.” He glances at Trace, his expression expectant, as if seeking validation. “I’m making an effort to lock down my temper.”
I’ve noticed. Granted, I’ve been here less than a day, but I haven’t seen so much as a twitch of aggression from him. Not even when Trace held him at gunpoint.
“Before we brought you here,” Trace says to me, “we had some heart to heart conversations.”
“You did?” I know my eyes are bugging out of my head. “I can’t figure out if you guys are working together or against each other.”
“Both.” Trace lifts his face to the sunshine and draws in a slow breath. “We dragged you to an isolated location without your consent and are forcing you to confront the decision you ran from. The least we can do is make the next few months tolerable, and that starts with how we engage with one another. There’s a line between letting emotion control you”—he gives Cole a pointed look—”and suppressing it so completely it’s assumed I feel nothing.”
“I never assumed that, Trace.” I chew on my lip. “You have me kind of worried, though, because I don’t want either of you to change. Other than the lying and secrets…”
“We’re not changing,” Cole says. “We’re just going to be more open. Look, we can talk out our asses about being honest with one another, but that’s something that will have to be proven over time.”
Wow. They’re serving up man-sized portions of maturity, and it’s so weird to me. Especially after my mom said I have a lot of growing up to do. If Cole and Trace are taking strides toward civility, I need to up my game. Growing up isn’t something I’ve ever strived for, but maybe Mom’s right. I need to be responsible and accountable for my actions.
As another punk rock song bangs through the speakers, I hold my hand out to Cole, motioning for the stereo remote. “Let me see that.”
“Nope.”