Beautifully Damaged

by L. A. Fiore

  "What does he have to do with me?"

  Caroline's voice was softer, kinder, when she asked with disbelief. "You really don't know, do you?"

  "No, please tell me."

  "He's the reason you got this job. He called and strong-armed me into giving it to you and then he called today offering In Step the exclusive coverage of his campaign but only if you were our correspondent."

  I was shaking my head as I stood and began pacing the room. "I don't understand. I don't know him."

  Caroline leaned back in her chair as a different person than the one when I entered and said, "Well, he apparently knows you."

  I knew I had to talk with Trace. "I've got to go. I'm really sorry about all of this."

  I gathered my coat and headed for the door but stopped as I touched the knob.

  "What are you going to do about Charles?"

  Caroline shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Can you delay?"

  "Why?"

  "Because I have a feeling there's more of story here than a campaign journey."

  Caroline leaned forward with her journalistic instincts kicking in, "Really?"

  "I wouldn't bet against it."

  "I'll delay then."

  It took me some time to track down Trace and I only managed it with Rafe's and Luke's help. Trace actually was at the gym and when I finally located him in the weight room, I gave myself a moment to watch as he bench-pressed the weight of a small car. He was beautiful -- a beautiful and damaged soul. I hadn't even made a move toward him when his head whipped around and those eyes speared me from across the room. He stood and started towards me.

  "Ember, what's wrong?"

  I reached for his hand. "We need to talk."

  He let me pull him from the room and when I found a restroom, I pushed him in and locked the door before I turned and leaned against it.

  "Who the hell is Charles Michaels?"

  I saw the stubbornness enter his expression and knew he was going to shut me out again but I didn't let him.

  "I just had a sit-down with my editor. It turns out that he got my job for me by calling in a favor and now he's willing to give exclusive access of his campaign to In Step as long as I'm the front person. With your reaction to him and your behavior ever since, I know somehow you're connected so who the hell is he and why the fuck is he messing around in my life?"

  All the blood drained from his face and for just a second, I saw what looked a hell of a lot like fear flash in his eyes before rage took over. He turned and without warning slammed his fist into the wall before he started to pace. "Mother fucker! No, not you! Absolutely not you!"

  "What? Tell me! If I hadn't seen him that night at Clover, I wouldn't even have known who he was. I'm guessing he knows of me because of you."

  Trace grabbed me as his eyes practically burned holes into me.

  "Charles came into Clover?!"

  "Yes."

  "Fuck!" He roared that as he walked away from me and started to pace. I watched him for several minutes as he worked it all out. When he looked back at me there was a resolve about him that I had never seen in him before.

  "I have to go."

  "Trace?!" I called after him but he never looked back.

  In the days that followed, Trace sequestered himself in his office and never once came out to talk with me about what was going on with him. At night I went to bed alone since Trace wasn't sleeping and when he did, it wasn't in bed with me. He was distancing himself from me because he was getting ready to walk. I think the truly heartbreaking part of it all was that I knew from almost the beginning that he would walk away rather than fight to stay. It was my own fault, allowing myself to believe that it would be different with me, as if I could save him. I was coming to realize that I never stood a chance because Trace didn't want to be saved.

  In the days that followed while Trace brooded privately, I made the decision to quit my job at In Step. It had been a hard decision to make because I really loved the work but I hated more knowing that I only had the position because of Charles Michaels. Caroline had tried to persuade me from my decision, told me that I had proven myself and earned the position, but In Step had become synonymous with Trace and his demons and because of that I no longer felt the joy working there that I once had.

  It was four days after my meeting with Caroline that I saw Trace again. He emerged from his study and he looked tired and lost but worse the vacancy was back in his eyes. He barely gave me a passing glance as he walked to the front door.

  "Trace, are you going to talk with me?"

  He turned to me but one look at him and I wished he hadn't. His voice was completely devoid of emotion when he said, "There's nothing to talk about, Ember. I'm going out."

  And then he was gone. When he didn't come home that night I worried. I tried calling him and Rafe but I couldn't get through to either of them. I called a cab and headed to the Bronx. When I entered Trace's gym I saw him immediately. He was standing amid a circle of women and once again, he was flirting. All the little gestures of affection he had constantly been giving to me he was freely giving to strangers. I felt the tears and hated myself for caring so fucking much.

  As I stared at him it was like watching a wolf catch the scent of his mate as Trace's head jerked in my direction; his eyes pinned me from across the room. His expression broke my heart because it wasn't sadness or pain or regret that I saw but the lack of them; his expression was completely blank and then he grinned at me as if we had been only passing acquaintances before turning his attention to the bosomy blonde standing to his left. A searing pain exploded in my chest but I kept my head held high as I turned and left.

  I stood outside his gym for a minute before I started walking aimlessly as my anger bloomed.

  Despite whatever motivated Trace: fear or a need to protect me or himself, what was glaringly obvious to me was that Trace was unwilling to fight for me. Heidi had said it, had warned me; Trace would always choose Trace and though he might love me, he feared his demons more. I didn't know how long I walked around but eventually I hailed a cab and headed back to the apartment.

  I sat in the living room waiting for him as I worked out what I was going to say to him. I waited so long that eventually I fell asleep on the sofa. When I woke, it was morning and Trace still hadn't been home. I showered, changed and started the coffee and that's when I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. I moved from the kitchen just as Trace was walking down the hall to the bedroom.

  "Trace."

  He didn't even turn in my direction before he said, "Ember." He reached the bedroom and closed the door behind him.

  I wasn't going to follow him but I was angry at how he was shutting me out again and being all Alpha-male-esque, decreeing how it was going to be between us. I reached the door and turned the knob only to find that he locked it. I couldn't even being to describe how that made me feel. Never, once, in the months that we'd been together had Trace locked me out, literally or figuratively. It was in that moment when I mentally conceded defeat and acknowledged to myself that Trace and I were over.

  I waited for him in the living room. An hour later the bedroom door opened as Trace appeared showered and changed. He moved down the hall, spared me a glance, before he moved to the front door.

  "Are you going to talk with me, Trace?"

  He stopped but didn't turn to me before he replied, "Talk about what?"

  I was so angry that I reached for the candy dish on the table and hurled it at his head. That got his attention as fury-filled eyes looked back at me.

  "What the fuck are you doing, Trace? If you want me gone then fucking say it but don't act like I'm being emotional and unreasonable when you've pulled a Jekyll and Hyde."

  He took a few menacing steps closer before he hissed out, "I want you gone. I'm over it and you."

  And after those hurtful words he turned from me and left the apartment.

  I discovered that a body could still function when the h
eart was reduced to nothing but ash. I'd heard that deep depression could actually cause physical pain and I learned through personal experience that is a true statement of fact.

  I didn't know how long I stood there looking at the door but I eventually turned and made my way to my room and started packing my things. I spent the whole day packing and when I was finished, I thought about my dinner with Lucien and the advice he had offered me. He told me to fight for what I wanted and Rafe, he warned me that Trace would push me away but if I loved him I had to hold firm. I wasn't really sure that he did still love me but I knew I couldn't leave without trying to reach him one last time.

  I called Rafe and learned that Trace was at Sapphire. A half hour later, I was walking through the doors of the club and as soon as Luke saw me he hurried from around the bar and stepped in front of me.

  "Hey, Ember, how are you doing?"

  "Have you seen Trace?"

  "Last time I saw him he was in the back."

  "Thanks, Luke."

  I started away from him but he reached for my arm to stop me.

  "Maybe you should go home and I'll find Trace and send him to you."

  "I'm here, Luke, and I really need to speak with him."

  I saw the look; he looked conflicted but then he dropped his hand and took a step back from me.

  "Okay, but, Ember, if you need to talk, I'm here."

  "Thank you, Luke." And then I acted on instinct and hugged him. "You're a really great friend."

  "I don't want to see you hurt, Ember."

  I pulled back and smiled before I made my way to the back near the restrooms. When I reached that dark corner I had the most unpleasant case of deja vu as I noticed the shadows in the corner. As I approached I immediately recognized the larger frame. He was in an intimate embrace. There was a long slender leg wrapped around his waist and his hips were moving with deep, hard thrusts. The sight was so similar to that first time that I gasped which had him looking over his shoulder and our eyes met and held before he turned back to the woman. My already broken heart shattered. I turned and started away from him but stopped as fury burned through me. I walked back as my eyes found the tart's.

  "Take off, bitch."

  I saw fear as she pulled away from Trace, straightened her skirt and hurried off. Trace worked his zipper and the sound broke my heart again. He turned to me but his expression was blank -- completely unreadable. I held his stare before I said, "You fucking coward. After everything, this is how you decide to end it with me?! I love you, you miserable fuck. I saw you, not the man you want everyone to believe you are. I loved that man but you don't give a shit. You whine that everyone in your life sees you as a piece of shit yet you still push me away. I think you want to be miserable and alone. I guess the wounded sob stories get you laid, huh?! You tug on the heart-strings and get off on it."

  He stiffened and his jaw clenched but I didn't care. I held his glare as I tilted my head and added, "Well, you go back to your meaningless sex, Trace. Don't let your heart get involved and continue to live a shell of an existence because you're too weak to face your past and move on. But know this; you will never be free of me. I will haunt you, too. I'll become one of your demons, Trace, because I was the one who loved you, truly, hopelessly and completely and I would have given it all to you. Remember that when you're alone and miserable; you had the real deal but you were too much of coward to hold onto it."

  I started away from him but stopped and looked back at him from over my shoulder and said, "You can bring your fuck mates home, Trace, since I'll be out of your apartment and your life by tonight."

  Then I walked away but it didn't feel anywhere near as satisfying as I thought it would. With each step I took, my anger gave way to heartache. I didn't remember the cab-ride back to the apartment since my mind just shutdown.

  My bags were at the front door as I tried to think about where I was going to go but I had a hard time thinking because I hurt everywhere. I sat in the dark living room staring at my picture on the wall as my heart beat painfully in my chest. He wanted to love; he wanted someone close and I really, truly believed that he wanted me to be that person. I could even understand him pushing me away. It was scary to fall in love but for someone who had spent his life being a loner, someone with a damaged past, yeah, it had to be terrifying. What I couldn't understand, what broke my heart was that he had sex with another. He consciously did the one thing that he knew would make me go and that spoke volumes as to his intent. That one act made it heartbreakingly clear to me that he didn't feel for me what I did for him.

  I didn't know how long I sat there -- probably longer than I should have -- but I knew that, once I crossed over that threshold, my dream of sharing a life with Trace was over. I was going; my pride demanded it but I stalled because I would never be here again. This apartment wasn't my home anymore and it never would be and that thought had tears burning my eyes. Damn Trace and his fucking demons. Hours passed and I rose to go just as Trace came home and from the way he was fumbling around as he closed the door, I could tell that he was seriously drunk.

  "Trace."

  I knew I surprised him since he stumbled at the sound of my voice before he eventually turned to me. I didn't know what was going on with him and, despite what I wanted to believe and what was true, the months that we spent together meant everything to me. My heart was already broken and my dreams shattered but I couldn't go without telling him the truth regardless of how much it hurt to speak the words. I pulled my jeans down enough to expose my tattoo.

  "I wanted this and I always will. There isn't, and never would have been anything you could tell me that would have made me leave you but I guess I was just fooling myself to believe that it was ever up to me. Was the bitch tonight the first time you stepped out on me or just the only time you wanted to get caught?"

  I saw his fists clench at his sides and his jaw tightened but I continued on, "I loved the man you were but that magnificent man who's buried in there somewhere never stood a chance because you'd rather hold onto the pain of the past than fight for your future."

  I couldn't bear to be around him; it hurt too much, so I made my way to the door. Trace stepped aside to let me pass. Being so close to him and feeling the heat from his body had me wanting him but I forced myself to keep my distance. I looked up into his eyes and saw that they were brimming with tears and the sight of that cut me like a knife but he broke us, not me.

  "Despite your destructive personality, I really hope that one day you'll love someone the way that I love you, someone you are willing to fight, lose and hurt for. Whoever that very lucky woman is, I hope that she loves you just as much. Find a way past your demons, Trace, and let go of your past so you can reach out with both hands to your future. You deserve to be happy, you deserve love and you, Trace Montgomery, are very worthy of that love." I lifted one bag over my shoulder and held the other before I turned from him and reached for the door knob. I couldn't look at him because my tears were just streaming down my face. My voice was barely over a whisper when I added, "I don't regret a second we had together, Trace, not one."

  And then I left, pulling the door closed quietly behind me. It hurt so much to walk away from him and the life that I wanted so much to share with him. My tears ran freely down my face as each step took me further away from the dream that was all too fleeting. Once outside, I hailed a cab and climbed into the car but I had no idea what to tell the driver since I didn't really have anywhere to go. I ended up calling Trent.

  "Hi, Ember."

  "Trent, do you think it would be okay if I stayed with you tonight?"

  "What happened?"

  "Trace and me, we're over and I don't have anywhere to go."

  "Yes, absolutely."

  I exhaled in relief. "Thank you, Trent."

  "That's what friends are for. I'll meet you at the curb."

  I hung up and gave the cabbie the directions before resting my head back on the seat. I was numb and though I felt my heart beati
ng in my chest I was dead inside. Visions of Trace and me together clouded all of my thoughts: at the fair, at his apartment, of the night staying up to the wee hours talking about nonsense, of us sailing and going grocery shopping.

  How could someone with so much to give close off so completely? How could he know love to the depths that we did and walk away from it? I told him I'd haunt him but he was going to haunt me, too. He was always going to be there in the back of my mind. I knew that any other man who came into my life would be compared to Trace and that every one of them was going to fall short because for me, it was Trace. I tried to save him from his demons and instead he became my own personal demon.

  The cab stopped but I made no attempt to move. I couldn't seem to get my body to listen to my brain. Seconds later the door opened just as a hand reached for me and pulled me out. I looked up through teary eyes into Trent's worried ones. He said nothing as he pulled me into his arms. I fisted the back of his jacket as I pressed my face into his chest and cried for the loss of the man who, I realized in that moment, I never really had.

  Part Two

  "Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."

  -Lao Tzu

  Chapter Fourteen

  I learned a few things about myself and about life after that very painful day when I walked away from Trace. One of those revelations was that I was completely and totally addicted to cake-pops. I was so enamored with those demons of delight that I overcame my own ineptitude with baking and started making my own so I could get a fix at any time of the day or night. Yes, those little mouthfuls of sin gave me, for just a few moments, complete contentment.

  Another discovery I made during those weeks was that I could relate to all those sad songs about heartbreak and that sitting with a pint of ice cream and watching When Harry Met Sally really did provide a measure of comfort.

  The five stages of grief were real and for me, I lingered a good long time on the anger phase. Throughout the weeks and months that followed, visuals spontaneously popped into my head of how Trace would come to an untimely death; they were really very gruesome, horrifying and oh so delightful which led to the next thing I learned. I had a flair for the dramatic; who knew?