“I stopped by your house on the way here. Looks like you’re all packed up and moved out.”
He glanced away and nodded. “Yeah.”
She wanted to ask him where his father was, but venturing too deep into the personal areas still felt dicey. “I didn’t see your truck out front.”
“It’s on the other side, by the kitchen. I had to haul in the shelves and put them together.”
She narrowed her eyes, completely lost. “I don’t understand. You told me you couldn’t finish.”
He looked down at the bar cloth he’d been using to wipe the table. “Well, I did some thinking. And you were right. I did make you a promise. But I can’t say I did it all myself, as much as I wanted to. I had to call in some help—that contractor friend I told you about. He did the heavy lifting. I took care of the small stuff. A couple of his guys came to help with the landscaping.”
“Trace, I can’t afford—”
“I paid them,” he said. “From my money.”
Disappointment carved a hole in her belly. “So that’s what this is. Follow-through.”
“Partly, yeah,” he admitted with a kind of annoyance that told Avery he believed that was more important than she did.
She crossed her arms. “And the other part?”
His sighed, set the folded towel on the table, and looked directly at her, bruises and all. “I thought getting away from you was the only way I could do right by you. But when Delaney told me you postponed the opening, I realized that instead of helping you, all I did was add yet another problem to your mountain of challenges.”
This was sounding all very . . . mature. All very . . . clean and businesslike. And even though Avery wasn’t interested in acting mature or businesslike, she did her best. “Well, perfect. I guess you’ve passed the professionalism test.”
She clasped her hands around her arms. A hot bath, a nap, and a private crying jag was on her immediate agenda, but not in that order. Especially not when tears were already burning her eyes.
“I’m tired.” She couldn’t make herself pretend anymore. It took too much energy. “I’ll make sure you get the rest of the money I owe—”
“I’m not here for the money.” His stern voice drew her gaze again. “I’m here to finish. I’m here to fulfill my promise. I’m here to show you that I’m not giving up. I’m not walking away from you or from us.” He pressed his hand against the breakfast bar, face set in a deliberate way she’d seen before, one that told her he was dead serious about following through. But his voice remained patient and compassionate. “I know the way I handled the situation with JT was wrong. And I don’t expect you to just believe me when I say it won’t happen again. I plan on sticking around and proving it to you.”
She frowned, confused. “Trace, I don’t—”
“Dad and I moved in with Zane to save money. We got notified that Dad qualifies for Medicare, so we’re going to start searching for a memory-care home nearby. I’ve picked up three new small jobs over the last few days, here in town. A bathroom remodel for Shiloh, a friend of Delaney’s; a custom-cabinet job for a lawyer down the other end of Main Street; and a new roof for Gabe Snyder. Ethan’s letting me use part of his warehouse space to set up shop. I smoothed things over with Mark, and he’s considering my bid on the kitchen remodel. It looks like he’s going to take it. And Caleb’s letting me bid on the market’s expansion project. I should be out of Zane’s apartment and on my own in three months, tops.”
Avery’s mouth had dropped open at some point. Before she could find anything to say, Trace went on.
“I’m here for you, Avery, and I’m here to stay. I don’t care how long it takes for me to prove that the other night was an event I never plan on repeating, or to wipe the smudges from my name around town, or for you to trust me again. I’m going to make it all happen because I love you, and I know, right here, right now, this is where I belong.”
Having him repeat her own words back to her made her huff a laugh, and tears spilled over her lashes. She wiped them away with shaking hands, and when she looked up again, Trace was right there.
He slipped one arm around her waist and cupped her face with the other, rubbing her tears away with his thumb. His troubled gaze held on her cheek as he stroked it. “And I’m going to make it my mission to stop these tears.”
Avery closed the distance between them, pressing her body against his and curling his soft cotton tee into her fingers to keep from touching him somewhere that would hurt. “I have no doubts, Trace.” She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him gently, avoiding the cuts on the left side of his lips. “Not one.” She kissed him again. “And I’ve loved you since that day we met and you told me I had a killer smile.”
Trace grinned . . . as much as someone could with cuts on his lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body back against his. With his face pressed to her neck, rocking her back and forth, he murmured, “God, I missed you. The last three days felt like three months. Don’t ever go away again . . . unless you take me with you.”
&nb
sp; “That’s a deal.” She crossed her arms behind his neck and pulled back to smile into those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “So what do you think? Is this place ready to open?”
He grinned. “Hell yes.”
She kissed him, gently, away from his injuries. “Will you be at my side when it opens?”
He gave her a look. “I don’t think my face will be healed by your opening day.”
“My opening day has been canceled. I’m sure you’ll be fine by the time—”