Like an addict, I couldn’t look away from the magazine. He was dressed in a pair of white boarding pants. Medals were slung around his neck where they rested on his bare chest. He leaned against a snowboard, a charming smile on his face. A pair of goggles were on top of his head, messing up his already wild hair.
I was in no state of mind to read anything about him, but I also couldn’t help myself. Swallowing back my nerves, I picked up the magazine and thumbed through it until I found the article that went along with the photo. At first, it was like all the others, discussing Trace’s injury and how well he’d healed. But this article also had an interview with Trace, giving his side of the story. Dread pooled in my stomach when I neared the end of it.
Trace Stone: “I can’t wait to get back out on the slopes. I feel like the accident was a blessing in disguise. This setback gave me time to reflect on things, and I’ve got new perspective now. I think I’m in a better place than I was before.”
Sports Weekly: “Does this new perspective have anything to do with what happened in Vegas when you were there for ShredCon? Rumor has it you were seen coming out of a 24-hour wedding chapel with a pretty lady in tow. Could your new perspective and recent absence from the public eye be attributed to a happy marriage?”
Trace Stone: “No truth to that at all. I’m not ready to be tied down just yet.”
Sports Weekly: “You were recently seen in the company of a lovely young lady while in DC a few weeks ago. Is she a girlfriend? Has the ultimate lady’s man, Trace Stone, finally been taken off the market?”
Trace Stone: “Don’t ruin my reputation, Bryce. No wife. No girlfriend. I’m still a free man. I’m not off the market yet.”
On the opposite page were photos of Trace in various locations with a girl I didn’t recognize. And why should I? I hardly knew him or anything about his life outside of the time we’d spent together in the last few months. There was a photo of him and the girl in a restaurant, another in the ski lodge, and yet another coming out of a bar. All of them looked recent.
Even though those photos were relatively innocent, there was another with a completely different girl. This image made my heart feel like a lead weight in my chest. Trace wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she was kissing him full on the lips.
Disgust ate through me. I thought we’d been safe. We’d used condoms every single time, but I was currently sitting in the campus health clinic with a positive pregnancy test which could totally detour my future. Meanwhile, the guy who’d forced himself into my life and helped get me in this situation was off chasing his dreams, and other women.
My heart was racing, and I started to strip off my hoodie because I was flushed and overheated. I flung the magazine onto the table in front of me. I glared at Trace’s smiling face, furious. Not with him, but with myself.
I knew better. And I let him charm me anyway.
Look where that had gotten me.
He had his life back, just the way he wanted.
And mine was like the aftermath of a hurricane…in complete shambles.
— TRACE —
25. KNITTING WITH SAUSAGES
November 19, 2016
IS TRACE STONE FINALLY OFF THE MARKET? By GossipGrind.com
Trace Stone was seen arriving in the Las Vegas airport yesterday with an unidentified woman. A few days ago, the couple was also seen at the Mammoth Mountain lodge in California where Trace has been training, but the mystery girl still has no name. Could this be the woman he was rumored to have been with at the Las Vegas wedding chapel this past summer? Stone has said he’s not off the market and that the gossip about a wedding last summer aren’t true, but he looked very happy with his mystery lady in California, and they were seen holding hands as they made their way to baggage claim in Vegas. Only time will tell if this is the one and only Mrs. Stone.
=========================
I felt like shit. Things got a little out of my control last night, and I didn’t get a chance to talk to Harlow. So far today, she’d ignored all my calls. And texts. And emails. I felt bad for forgetting to call her last night, but at the same time, I was surprised that she was ignoring me because of it. She wasn’t usually clingy or demanding in our relationship. In fact, she was the complete opposite. Which only made the cold shoulder she was giving me strange. If anything, I would have thought she’d be worried about my missed call and eager to find out if I was okay. The fact that she not only didn’t seem to care, but was avoiding me, left me filled with bitter resentment.
My current situation was pretty shitty, and the one person I wanted to speak to was ignoring me. And I had no idea why.
I’d been so excited when my cousin, Abby, took a break from classes to fly out to California to hang out with me. She’d been living in Vegas ever since Austin and Dallas had moved there a few years after winning Rising Stars. The whole family lived in a big house that Austin and Dallas had bought.
Abby, otherwise known as Abilene to my Aunt Chantel, was my youngest cousin. She didn’t share her brothers’ musical talent and was often overlooked by my aunt. Especially since Abby was a snow rat like me, which only made it torture for her that she was living in the desert. When I’d asked Abby why she didn’t just attend a university that was close to a ski slope instead of studying at LVU, she gave me a one-word answer.
Dallas.
It was all I needed to hear for her choice to make sense. She couldn’t bear the thought of moving away from her family and missing any of the time Dallas had left. That’s why she still lived at home instead of with friends. That’s why she endured a life in the desert when her heart longed for snow. That’s why she put up with Aunt Chantel when any other living arrangement would have been better.
I’d been missing Harlow pretty badly since starting my training at Mammoth two weeks ago, but seeing Abby made my heart lighter. Having her as a training buddy was exactly what I needed to help keep my heart in the game and on the slopes, rather than in Maryland where it wanted to be. Having Abby at Mammoth Mountain reminded me of all the times she’d come visit to escape her mom and carve snow with me. She could have had a future in boarding if she’d pursued it, she was that good.
We’d just gotten back from the slopes yesterday afternoon when we got the call that Dallas had a massive seizure. Years ago, before he was on Rising Stars, Dallas started to complain of severe headaches and nausea. To say we were shocked when we found out he had astrocytoma, a form of brain cancer, would be an understatement. The doctors did surgery to remove the tumor, he and Austin won Rising Stars, and everything seemed fine. A few months ago Dallas started having seizures and the doctors realized that not only had the cancer returned, but it was no longer grade two astrocytoma— something that could be treated. His cancer had progressed to grade four astrocytoma, a more aggressive form of cancer called glioblastoma.
There was no cure.
He would deteriorate quickly.
The symptoms would get worse until his quality of life was nonexistent.
The headaches and nausea that Dallas regularly suffered from because of his tumor were terrible and wore him down, but it was the seizures that terrified him. He would lose control of his body movements and speech for a time afterward. Often his memory would be affected too. That’s what scared him most. The pain he could almost deal with, but losing his mind, his ability to make decisions…that’s what made him pursue details about the death with dignity option.
It was his way of taking control of a situation that was throwing his future into an emotional and physical tailspin. I supported him fully no matter what he chose to do. I just hadn’t expected him to deteriorate so quickly.
When we got the call that Dallas was being taken to the hospital, it wasn’t a matter of whether we’d go to Vegas, but how quickly could we be there. When someone you love is terminally ill, and you know that at any moment cancer could take them away for good, you don’t think. You don’t wait. You rush to their side. It wasn’t until later this morning,
when we were finally able to talk to Austin and hear for ourselves that Dallas still has his faculties, that I remembered I never talked to Harlow the night before to tell her what was going on.
I immediately called her to apologize, but she never picked up.
That was hours ago.
Now, I sat on the couch in Dallas’ hospital room, staring at the television without really watching. Aunt Chantel and Uncle Roger had gone with Austin to the Mirage under the insistence of Dallas to work out the logistics of the Dueling Cellos show that night.
Abby was sitting next to me, scrolling through her social media accounts on her phone, and Dallas was currently sleeping. Dallas once said that having a grand mal seizure was like running a marathon. It took everything out of him, physically and mentally, and all he wanted to do was sleep for days afterward.
“Hey,” I said, elbowing Abby. “I’m going to make another call. You going to be all right here by yourself?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I can keep my sleeping brother company without much effort.”
“If you say so, Blabby,” I teased, standing up and stretching my arms over my head. We’d caught a few hours of sleep out in the waiting room, but I was exhausted.
“Go ahead and call your girlfriend,” she said, nudging my leg with the toe of her shoe. “I’m tired of you acting like a sad little puppy.”
I hadn’t meant to tell Abby about Harlow, but girls can sniff out a guy with girl problems like a pig sniffing out truffles. She needed something to distract her from Dallas, and when she continued to badger me about what was causing my sour mood, I caved and told her I had a girlfriend. It’s not like my parents and brother didn’t already know, but I was so used to keeping it a secret, I almost felt guilty for admitting it out loud to anyone.
Which wasn’t a good sign.
“I’ll be back soon.” I forced a grin and then made my way down to the main floor and outside so I could get better reception. I dialed Harlow’s number, and the phone rang three times. Just as I was preparing to leave another desperate message begging her to call me, she picked up.
“Hello?”
“Harlow?”
“Yes.” Her voice was clipped and sterile.
“Jesus.” I ran my hand through my hair until I was gripping the back of my neck as my head hung down. “It’s so good to finally hear your voice. I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
“I know.”
I was stunned into silence because I didn’t recognize this version of Harlow at all. I’d seen her flirty, angry, scared, happy, and stressed, but never void of emotion. I could take her being angry at me. That’s something I could fix. But her current attitude was as if she felt nothing for me.
“Is something wrong?” I asked. “You don’t seem like yourself.”
“Funny,” she said, her tone as nasty as a snake bite. “I’m finally starting to feel like myself again.”
I hesitated, apprehension hijacking my words for a moment. It was like the past three months had never happened at all. Or that they did, but that she remembered them differently than I did.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. Things are a mess. I really need to talk to you.” I wanted to tell her about Dallas. To have her reassure me in her very organized and perfectly controlled Harlow way that everything was going to be okay. Even if I knew it wasn’t true, I would believe it if she said it. I would feel better if she shared my grief. She never asked much about my family or life, and I never forced it on her, but this one time, I wanted to tell her without being asked.
She huffed and then sighed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk. In fact, I’m going to have to ask you to stop trying to contact me. It’s borderline harassment at this point.”
What the fuck?
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I snapped. I hadn’t been angry with Harlow in a long time. Not since that first day of our sex ed class when she demanded an annulment.
“You know what’s sick?” she asked, her voice finally losing the even, uncaring quality. Her words were full of so much fury I could feel the heat of them through the phone. “I was actually starting to trust you. I should have known all along you were a player.”
“What?” That was the last thing I was expecting.
“I saw the article, Trace. You’re still the man around town?” Her voice had a funny sound to it, which made me think she was quoting the article verbatim. “I bet the ladies love that.”
I groaned. “Harlow, whatever you read was taken out of context.”
“But you said those things, right?”
“I haven’t seen the article yet, but whatever I said, it was because I knew you didn’t want our relationship to be public. I—”
“And for good reason,” she interrupted. “Thankfully, no one really knew about us. Now I won’t look like such an idiot since the pictures of all the other girls have surfaced.” Her voice broke, and despite the fact that I was angry with her, I had the urge to comfort her.
“What pictures? You’re the only girl I’ve been with since your birthday, Cricket.”
“Pick up your copy of Sports Weekly, Trace.” She sniffled, but when she spoke again, her voice was steely. “And don’t try to contact me again. Unless it’s to give me my annulment,” she added.
I didn’t even get a chance to respond before the line went dead.
I growled in disgust and then spun around, nearly tearing the front door off its hinges when I entered the hospital again. I went straight to the gift shop, hoping they sold magazines. I wasn’t two steps into the shop before I saw it—my face staring back at me from the cover. I snatched the Sports Weekly off the shelf, took it to the register, and the cashier did a double take as she rung it up.
Her eyebrows dipped low over her eyes in curiosity as she looked from me to the picture and then pointed at my face. “Did anyone ever tell you—” she started to say.
I tossed a ten dollar bill on the counter and then lifted the magazine as I left, forcing a charming grin. “Keep the change.”
In the hallway, I flipped through the pages until I found the article. I scanned it quickly, my memory of that day resurfacing with a sick feeling. Everything in it was quoted word for word, as least as well as I remembered it, but I had to admit that I could see why Harlow might be upset. The interview had been cut and pasted in just the right way that made me look like a complete douche to her. I scanned the rest of the article, wondering what photos had made Harlow so angry, half expecting to see the pictures of us that the interviewer had shown me.
The story was mostly filled with more shots of me in boarding gear from our photoshoot. Until the last page, where I found pictures of Abby and me together at Mammoth Mountain. To me, the photos looked innocent. But to anyone else who didn’t know we were related, I could see how we might look like a happy couple.
The images of me with Abby weren’t the worst part, however. The worst part was the selfie taken by the gum-snapping assistant from the Quench commercial. In the picture, I looked half-naked, and she was kissing me on the lips. It was the picture I’d asked her to delete.
I should have known better.
I folded the magazine in half and shoved it in my back pocket so I’d have both hands free to text Harlow. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t answer a phone call, but she had to at least give me a chance to defend myself. After all the time we’d spent together, she owed me that.
Me: Just saw the article
Me: It’s not what you think
Me: The girl at Mammoth is my cousin
I was still typing when I got a reply.
Harlow: Seriously? That’s the best excuse you could come up with? Your cousin?
Me: It’s the truth
Me: And that kiss with the other girl was an accident
Me: She kissed me
Me: I asked her to delete the photo
Harlow: So you were just walking around naked and accidentally got your face stuck to anoth
er girl’s mouth? I’m not an idiot.
Me: UR not even giving me a chance to explain
Harlow: Giving you chances only gets me in trouble.
Me: Not true
Harlow: Really? Want to know where I am right now? I’m sitting at the Gyno’s office with a positive pregnancy test in my hand. How’s that for trouble? Is that your MO? Start sucking face with a new chick once the old one is knocked up?
I stared at the screen in disbelief. Harlow was knocked up? Like pregnant? I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I typed out a response.
Me: We used condoms
Harlow: ARE YOU REALLY THAT BIG OF A DICK? AND I DON’T MEAN THAT AS A COMPLIMENT. CONDOMS ARE NOT 100%! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT IS? YOUR ASSHOLERY!!!!
Fuck. She was pissed. Whoever said you couldn’t truly understand someone’s feelings over text had obviously never been screamed at in all caps after accidentally insinuating that the girl they were dating was screwing around.
Me: I didn’t mean it that way
Harlow: How did you mean it?
Me: I’m sorry
Typing an apology and arguing over text was like trying to knit with sausages. I couldn’t type as fast as her anger was thrown back at me.
Harlow: I’m sorry too. I’m the one who’s pregnant.
I still couldn’t believe it. We’d been safe every single time. Maybe she read the test wrong.
Me: R U sure?
Harlow: Am I sure? FUCK YOU. I didn’t want this, remember? I told you I didn’t want a relationship. I told you I had a future to think about that had nothing to do with you. But you wouldn’t go away. And look what it got me. Two pink lines! I might not even be able to graduate thanks to you. Everything is ruined.
Ruined? Holy shit. It was a baby, not a death sentence.
Me: Don’t U think U R overreacting?
I barely managed to get that message out before another verbal assault rang through.
Harlow: Overreacting?!?! Don’t come knocking on my door anymore. I’ve hired a lawyer to draw up the annulment like I should have done months ago.
Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 25