by Tepe, Mandie
They sat down and filled their plates. Meg asked if Trace would like to pray. “My brain cells aren’t firing very well. I don’t know if I could put my thoughts together. Will you do it?” he asked.
Meg nodded and thanked God for the food and his goodness—especially his goodness in bringing Trace and his team home safe. Then they ate quietly for a while.
“I don’t know how you’re still on your feet,” she said.
“Auto pilot,” Trace laughed. “No really, the suspense is killing me. I may never sleep again.”
“The suspense?”
He shot her an exasperated look. “Seriously, Meg, why did you leave? I told you I wanted you here. On the plane back all I could think of was seeing you when I got home. I was surprised at how important that was to me.”
“Really? I wanted to see you too. I’d like to have stayed, but you may not want me here anymore. I guess you haven’t talked to Sean since you’ve been back.”
“I tried to reach him to find out where you were, but he wasn’t answering his phone. What’s going on? Stop stalling.”
“Okay.” Meg took a deep breath. “Sean and I have dissolved our partnership. Well, I should say Sean has. He’s decided to partner with Steffy.”
“Steffy? That dance institute bimbo? Why?”
“Trace! I don’t like her either, but don’t call her names. I don’t know what she did to manipulate him, but I can imagine. Anyway, he told me he wanted to part ways and since he got us the gig at the SDDI he and Steffy would complete the contract and I was out. Marcy had other ideas, though. She’s the director at the Institute. She sent both Sean and Steffy packing—him for breaking the contract by shutting me out, and her for her disloyalty to the school. Turns out they’d been looking for a reason to expel her for quite a while for being such a troublemaker.”
Meg took a deep breath and looked at Trace nervously. “Anyway, they offered me an amended contract to continue conducting the workshops alone and to perform at the showcases with new partners. It actually has created some exciting new ideas for the show. Kind of a blessing in disguise . . . for me anyway,” she added weakly.
“Look, Trace, you’re making me nervous. This only happened because of Sean’s decision. I didn’t sneak around and manipulate him out of the contract.”
Trace had laid his fork down and was staring at her with a stunned expression on his face. “You thought I’d be upset with you. You thought I’d blame you and accuse you of stabbing Sean in the back? Turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around so I can pull Sean’s knife out of your back!”
That did it. Relieved, Meg started laughing and crying at the same time. Oh, man! Why did women have to do that?
“Meg, stop. Please don’t cry. Everything is fine. Actually, everything is great. Of course I don’t blame you. Well, except for the part where you didn’t trust me and moved out of my house. Should I beat up Sean or just tell him he’s dead to me?”
Then all Meg could do was laugh. Trace still wanted her around. “No, please don’t beat him up or tell him he’s dead to you. He’s got Steffy. That should be punishment enough.” She clapped both hands over her mouth in shock. “I can’t believe I just said that.”
That’s when Trace lost it. Neither of them could stop laughing and almost couldn’t finish dinner.
When he finally got control he asked, “Where did you go when you left?”
“I’m staying with Tobi. She lives near the Institute so it’s really convenient with all the overtime we have to put in.”
He just nodded. “Well . . . just so you know . . . you’re still welcome here.”
“I know that. Maybe it’s better if I don’t stay with you, though,” she replied wryly. “Too much temptation.”
“I guess you’re right. I’ll miss seeing you here in the mornings . . . and the evenings.” He added with a small smile, “ . . . and anytime you want to be here.”
Meg smiled back. “We’ll still hang out. I’d like to spend as much time as possible with you while I’m here. If you’d like to.”
Trace breathed easier. “Okay. The first thing we need to do is reschedule our movie night.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
After they spent some more time catching up, Meg looked up to study Trace’s face. Sure enough, he was looking paler by the minute and the dark circles under his eyes were getting darker. There were a few small bruises that were beginning to really stand out in relief.
“Okay! That’s it. Dinner’s over and you need to go to bed. I can’t believe I let dinner go on as long as I did.”
“What are you? The dinner police?”
“Ha! Please, Trace. Go to bed.”
“No, I’m going to help clean this up and walk you out to your car. Then I’m going to bed. If I go to bed now I won’t get my goodnight kiss.”
“Really, Trace. Let me clean up. At least go lie down and rest while I get the dishes done.”
“Alright, but don’t go. I’ll just be resting. I’ll turn on the game.”
“What game?”
“Sweetheart, you’ve been around my house enough lately to know there’s always a game on.”
“Or, in this era of reality TV, there’s always a dance competition program on.”
Trace rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
Meg put her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He raised his hands in surrender. “All I mean is, I’m so tired I probably won’t understand what’s going on. I’ll wait ‘til I’m more alert and you’re there to call the plays and explain the rules to me.”
“’Call the plays?’” Meg laughed. “Okay. Now go lie down.”
After she finished in the kitchen Meg walked back to Trace’s bedroom. Ah ha! Her evil plan had worked. There he was flat on his back on the bed, fully dressed, passed out asleep. She turned off the TV and folded the bedspread from the other side of the bed over him—kind of like a taco. She set the clock radio alarm for noon. That should give him enough time to get up and get to the debriefing meeting he had told her was to start at 1300 hours the next day. Then she went home to Tobi’s feeling content.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Trace opened his eyes to a bright sunlit room. He could hear the seagulls out on the beach. His radio was playing, which was kind of weird. He never used his clock radio alarm. But sure enough, his wristwatch alarm was going off too. He smelled coffee. God bless her, Meg was taking care of him again.
When he went to the kitchen for coffee he found a note by the pot. “Good morning! Hope you got some good rest. I left a small breakfast casserole in the ‘fridge. Just put it in the oven—350 degrees—for about 20 minutes. Have a great day! Talk to you soon! ; ) –Meg”
He smiled, popped the casserole in the oven and went to take a quick shower, shave and get dressed. By the time he was done his breakfast—or lunch—was ready.
As he jumped into the Jeep with his gear and a travel mug of coffee, his cell phone rang. He answered as he backed out of his drive.
“Hey, bro! You’re home!”
“Sean.” Trace gritted his teeth. “What’s going on?”
“Well, I don’t know if you talked to Meg. I got your messages you were looking for her. She hasn’t been answering my calls either and, when I’ve come by your place, she hasn’t been there. Did you find her?”
“Why do you want to know, Sean? So you can harass her? What are you thinking? I’d be avoiding you too.”
“Look, Trace, I don’t know why you’re attacking me. She’s the one who came out on top. I got nothing. The least she could do is throw a bone my way. We go way back. I think we owe each other.”
“That’s right, you do. In my world, you never leave a teammate behind. You stabbed her in the back and it backfired on you. You got what you deserved. Debt cancelled!”
“Hey! I’m your brother! Why are you taking her side? But I guess I’m just your
stepbrother and she’s . . .”
“Watch it! Don’t talk that way about her. And I never treated you any way but like a brother. Don’t pull that! But Sean, there’s right and there’s wrong. You were wrong.”
Trace disconnected. He was disgusted. Enough of that. He needed to get into the right frame of mind for this debriefing.
It was always hard to relive every second of a mission. A lot of what went on was ugly. This one was no different. At least they were able to accomplish what they’d needed to. Hopefully some good information would come from some of their captures and some lives could be saved as a result. That was the thing, though. He and his team didn’t always know if their hard work bore much fruit.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
As Meg left the auditorium for lunch she checked her cell for messages. She’d been at it since six o’clock that morning and was exhausted yet exhilarated. She smiled as she saw Trace’s text message: “Thanks for breakfast. Forgive you for sneaking out last night. Don’t work too hard.” They had compared schedules over dinner the night before and knew they each had full schedules today.
As she walked past Tobi’s studio, she stuck her head in the door. “Hey. Ready to break for lunch?”
Tobi looked up from where she was stowing some props away in the closet. “Sure.” She closed the closet door and grabbed her sweatshirt on her way to the door to meet Meg. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you today. You were already gone when I woke up this morning. How was the big reunion?”
“Good. I can’t tell you how happy I am that he’s back,” Meg gushed.
“You don’t have to tell me. It’s written all over your face. So . . . did all the guys make it back safe and sound? No serious injuries?” Tobi asked, a little too nonchalantly.
Meg smiled at her knowingly. “Yes. Sonny is fine.”
“Did I ask if Sonny was fine? I was just concerned about all of them.”
“Sure you were.” Meg linked her arm through Tobi’s.
“Tell me . . . how did Trace take the news about Sean?”
“He was pretty angry . . . at Sean. He was upset with me too. I should have trusted that he would be fair and listen to my side of the story before he jumped to any conclusions. I think he was really hurt.” She bit her lip then brightened. “But things are good now.”
“Great! I guess you’ll be moving back over to his place. I was kind of surprised you didn’t stay over there last night.”
“If you don’t mind, Tobi, I’d like to continue to stay with you. I think it’ll be better for both Trace and me.”
Tobi looked shocked. “Well . . . sure, hon. Of course you’re welcome to stay with me for as long as you want. But why?” She looked sternly at Meg. “I hope you’re not trying to distance yourself from him . . . or pulling away. That wouldn’t be giving yourselves a chance and I think you two could make it. But you have to put your all into it or it definitely won’t work.”
“No it’s not that.” Meg wondered how much she should tell Tobi about their understanding. Tobi probably wouldn’t get it, but she dove right in anyway. “Trace and I have decided that our relationship wouldn’t get physical . . . intimate.”
“Really? That’s . . . I don’t . . . Well . . . I guess I just assumed you already had. I mean you were staying with him for a couple weeks. Right?” Meg had shocked Tobi again.
“See? That’s what everyone is going to assume. Not to mention how tempting it would be to give in to those feelings if I’m still staying there with him.” Meg pulled Tobi over to a nearby corner where they could talk more privately. “I don’t expect you to understand because most people don’t. I won’t sleep with anyone until I get married. It’s a promise I made to myself when I was really young and I plan to honor it. It probably seems ridiculous to you.”
“Not ridiculous. I’m just surprised, that’s all. And Trace is going along with this?”
“Yes . . . although I’m sure it’s a different kind of relationship for him. He’s being really understanding about it.”
Tobi shook her head. “Wow! Well, it’s good that he’s on board.” She linked her arm with Meg’s and started walking toward the cafeteria again. “I don’t think I could do it. Does that make me a bad person?”
Meg laughed, “I don’t judge anyone.” She looked meaningfully at Tobi. “And I hope no one will judge me.”
“Of course I won’t, Meg. Boy, I thought I knew how disciplined you were, but this . . .”
They entered the cafeteria and Meg said, “Let’s talk about something else. Do you think the team would be okay with taking off tomorrow afternoon and meeting Saturday afternoon instead? I’ve been working them so hard all week . . . so much overtime. What do you think?”
Tobi laughed as she picked up a tray. “I think you have something you’d rather do tomorrow afternoon.”
“Maybe,” Meg answered. “Let’s take a vote and see what everyone thinks. I’ll abide by whatever the group decides.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Meg walked around the corner of Trace’s house late in the afternoon on Friday when she heard raised voices coming from the beach. Her team had voted unanimously to take off that afternoon and meet back up on Saturday. As she got to the back of the house she found Trace and his buddies playing hardcore tackle football. It was something to see . . . all of those alpha-males.
No one noticed her presence, being engrossed in the game and non-stop trash talk, so she decided to sit on the deck steps and just enjoy the show. She guessed she’d probably been sitting there only five or ten minutes before Charley caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye.
“Hey Meg! It’s a good thing you’re here. Our team is down a player. Come on!”
She laughed, “You don’t want me on your team. You’re better off being a player down.”
At the sound of Charley calling her name all play and trash talk had stopped. Trace tossed the ball over to Javier and started jogging toward her, a smile blooming over his face.
Meg put her hand up. “Stop right there! You guys finish your game. Don’t let me interrupt.”
He kept coming. “You’re not interrupting. Is she, guys?” He shot a pointed look in their direction. “Game’s over.”
She shook her head. “That is truly a shame. I was so enjoying the view.” She laughed as he pulled her up and gave her a sandy hug.
All the other guys good naturedly headed toward the house, making noises about how late it had gotten and how their wives/girlfriends would be getting off work soon so they’d better get going. They trooped up the steps to retrieve their shoes off the deck, Sonny and Charley each stopping to kiss her on the cheek. Then they were gone.
“I feel really bad for breaking up your game. Looks like you’ve all been enjoying your day off,” she added as she bent to start picking up the few beer cans left strewn around the deck. “I’m kind of surprised you decided to spend it all together. Aren’t you sick of one another after the last couple of weeks?”
Trace took the cans out of her hands and headed to the door with her following. “That’s the weird thing. We don’t get sick of each other.” He dropped the cans into the recycling bin in the kitchen and grinned over at her. “But I have to say . . . I’m not sorry to see them go.”
Meg grinned back. “I took the afternoon off. Have to work tomorrow afternoon, though. I guess I should have given you a heads-up.”
“No . . . I like surprises. Surprises are good. Did you have anything particular in mind?”
“I’m thinking we should go out for pizza and then have our movie night.” She paused to dig around in her huge handbag, pulling out two DVD cases with a flourish. “Voila! The Dirty Dozen . . . and . . . The Postman Always Rings Twice.”
His eyes lit up. “Awesome!” He walked over to peek into her handbag. “Did you bring the JujyFruits?”
“No. We’ll stop for the refr
eshments after dinner. I thought you might like to pick out your own.”
“Great! Do you mind waiting ‘til I get cleaned up?”
“Not at all. It’s still early. I’ll just hang out.” Just then her cell phone rang. “See? I’m already occupied.”
Trace took off down the hall while she answered her phone. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, sweetie. Just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing today. I was hoping I’d catch you during your break time.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Mom, I’m fine.” Sheila had been checking on her everyday—sometimes twice a day when she thought Meg sounded depressed—ever since the breakup with Sean. “I’m having a great day . . . in fact, I’m taking the afternoon off.”
“That’s good,” Sheila said doubtfully. “What are you doing with your afternoon off? I hope you’re not off by yourself somewhere.”
“No, I’m here with Trace. We’re going to an early dinner and we rented some movies.”
“Oh, that sounds fun!” Sheila gushed, relieved that Meg and Trace were spending more time together. She still had hopes of Meg falling in love and settling down somewhere. Even if that somewhere might be so far away from the rest of the family. “Well, I won’t keep you.”
“That’s okay. I’m waiting for Trace to get cleaned up and ready to go out, so I have time. Is Daddy there?”
Sheila put Doug on the phone, “Hi, Meg. How’s my girl?”
“I’m good. Guess what movie I’m going to be watching tonight?”
“Knowing you, it’s a chick flick.”
She laughed, wondering where he’d ever heard that expression. “Nope . . . The Dirty Dozen.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Meg?” he demanded.
Meg giggled, “I promise . . . it’s me!”
They talked for a few minutes more, Doug asking his standard questions. “How’s the weather?” “What’re you paying for gas out there?” “Do you need any money?” As if she’d had to ask him for money since before she’d graduated from college.
Sheila got back on the phone after Meg and Doug had talked for a while to give her the latest report Maura had gotten from her obstetrician, who she had seen just that morning. Some of it was a little TMI for Meg, but she was glad to be kept in the loop anyway. Just as they were beginning to sign off, Sheila’s voice changed into something more serious.