She took a breath and braced to dig into a part of his life they’d stayed well away from up until now. “What did he do for you?”
Trace’s gaze swung toward her, veiled, cool. He’d disappeared behind some kind of veneer, and Avery heard Delaney again, telling her that people with scars don’t always make the best decisions.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean I don’t believe you’d work with him, let alone bring him here just because you need help. You have other resources.”
“No, I don’t. Not if I want to keep you within your budget.”
She clenched her teeth, ready to lose her shit. “What did he do for you?”
Shame flashed through his eyes before he looked at the floor again. His jaw muscle jumped, and it took him what felt like forever to answer.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Got between me and another inmate.” His voice was low and so dark a chill rippled down her spine. “I’d be dead if he hadn’t.”
She pulled in a sharp breath. Her eyes stung. Emotions clashed and burned. Austin’s words tried to pry their way into her head, which royally pissed her off and sent her into rebellion mode.
She closed the distance between them. He didn’t move, so Avery lifted his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. The pain and guilt and shame turned his beautiful eyes navy blue and stabbed Avery in the heart.
“You stay off the roof,” she said. “He’s gone the minute it’s done. And you keep him away from me.”
Gratitude softened his gaze. “Baby, he can’t do it himself either. I promise to get rid of him the second it’s done, and I promise to keep him away from you, but I’ve got to get up on that roof if we’re going to stay on schedule and on budget.” He lifted his hand and ran it over her hair, then squeezed the back of her neck and pulled her forehead to his. “Trust me on this.”
Her heart clenched and all its walls slid into place. She wanted to believe, wanted to trust, but experience and common sense wouldn’t let her.
She pushed back, crossed her arms and stared at his chest. “Fine.” She couldn’t control him. Couldn’t change him. Pulling in a deep breath, she forced herself to let it go and just absorb the hurt and fear. “I’m here to paint. I’m going to start upstairs, and I don’t need any help.”
Avery dropped her arms and turned toward the stairs. He reached out, catching her with a gentle hand on her forearm. She met his eyes, and the look there was raw and real and so honest, it hurt her heart.
“Thank you,” was all he said.
She didn’t know what he was thanking her for, but it didn’t matter. She slid her hand down to his, squeezed, then let go and continued upstairs.
TEN
Avery woke late for the second day in a row and drove to the café with bleary eyes and a headache. But she still loved this time of day. At 5:00 a.m. the sun was just cresting and the world seemed so quiet. This was the only time in her life when peace filled her heart and anything seemed possible.
But the pinch at the center of her head reminded her that everything came with a price. The stress was getting to her. She’d endured so much for so long her body was starting to show the symptoms.
Her mind swung toward Trace, and how much stress he’d endured. This situation was taking its toll on both of them. Hopefully that would be over soon. He and JT should be finished with the roof tomorrow. Once Mr. Smarmy was out of the picture, the tension should fade.
They were getting close. The appliances would be delivered right about the time the roof was finished. Those would take only a day or two to get in; then there would just be some finish work, some paint, some final landscaping, and Trace’s job would be done.
And Trace would move on.
Whatever was between them would be over.
She turned onto the café’s driveway with a heaviness in her chest. “Work, work, work.” She parked, shut off her headlights, and climbed from the car. “Focus, Avery.”
She’d dressed in jeans, sneakers, and an old T-shirt again, planning to continue painting this morning. But first she had to fill lunch orders and mail out Internet orders.
Soon Trace’s wage could go toward assistants to lighten Avery’s load. Then she could focus on looking forward. There would be a lot to think about with the holidays coming up.
But once Trace was gone . . .
Trace was gone.
She stretched her arms overhead and arched her back. Painting left her sore, and lack of sleep didn’t give her body time to fully heal.