A Trace of Passion (4 page)

“This…this is why you pushed me away, because you knew you had cancer and you decided you weren’t going to fight it anymore?”

Tears streaked Ophelia’s cheeks. Trace’s eyes widened, taken by surprise because he didn’t see when she started crying. “I was selfish,” she said.

“Yeah…yeah, you are selfish. What about Alana and your friends? You’re just going to give up without a fight and break their hearts too?”

She sobbed, covering her mouth with her hands as the tears ran faster. Trace couldn’t stand it anymore. His heart tore between wanting to hold her and wanting to beat the shit out of her. He stormed out the room and marched past Alana.

He didn’t bother to call a cab. He needed to walk. Or stomp. Stomping was good. It would have been better if he could punch someone. The only woman Trace loved beside his mother, was choosing a grave. Okay, it wasn’t her fault. He knew that. No one asked for cancer or a slow death. But he hated that she accepted her fate.

She beat it twice.
She’d been battling it for thirteen years. Jesus Christ, that was a lot longer than most cancer victims. Her body must have been so worn out, so tired. No wonder she was always so thin and frail. What if she really couldn’t do it a third time?

He stopped walking and slumped against something hard. He didn’t know what it was or where
he
was. It didn’t matter. All he could think about were her tears. Each one twisted a dagger in his heart.
I only regret hurting you…

She’d probably already come to terms with her friends. Hell,
they
have probably already come to terms with it. But not Trace. Trace who had to barge into her life unwelcomed.
She tried to spare me. That’s why she gave me a false phone number. She knew even then…
I yelled at her. God, I’m such an asshole!

His eyes stung as tears threatened to spill. He rubbed them with the palms of his hands while pushing off the hard surface. When his hands fell away from his eyes, he saw what he’d been leaning on. It was the display window of a Kay’s jewelry store. In big block letters and flashy colors stood a sign announcing the sale of engagement rings.

* * * *

Ophelia watched the leaves sway in the wind outside the hospital window. Alana had gone to get her some clothes and shoes after discovering Ophelia only had her bathrobe with her. The nurse would wheel her out as was the protocol. She never understood that part. Her legs weren’t broken or in any pain.

Now that Trace was gone, she could get on with the end of her life. It hurt when he left, but what else did she expect? She told him her secret, and just like that he was gone, just as she’d predicted. She reminded herself it was better that way; better for both of them. She regretted hurting him, but she didn’t regret getting to love him before her time came.

The door creaked open. “That was fast.” She turned, expecting to see Alana, but instead faced Trace. She sat straight up in bed. “Trace?”

He kept his gaze on the floor as he entered. “Were you expecting someone else?”

All she could do was stare for a moment before her voice came to her. “Alana.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Right.”

“What are you doing here?”

He looked at her and Ophelia winced. Dark circles rimmed his eyes and thin wrinkles creased his brow. He looked as though he had aged ten years in the hour since he’d left. Facing death did that to people. She remembered the sad boy who she asked to the Sadie Hawkins’s Day dance. She knew he’d rejected a lot of other girls who asked and though he didn’t say it, she knew it must have been his father’s death that made him not want to go to the dance. But something possessed her that day as she thought to herself
maybe he’ll go with me. Maybe I’ll be different
. She saw the same sense of bravado and hope in his pleading eyes as he approached her bedside. “Ophelia, I know there is a chance you might not…make it. But I can’t let you give up and not fight it.”

“Trace—”

“No, you just listen.”

She bit her lip, surprised by the sharpness of his tone.

He took a deep breath and continued. “This morning I told you I wouldn’t stop until you were mine. I fought for you Ophelia, and I’ll always fight for you. But I…” his voice broke and he glanced at the floor as if afraid she’d notice. “I can’t fight the cancer for you. I need you to do that.”

Ophelia shook her head and opened her mouth to speak when Trace pulled a tiny black velvet box wrapped in a red bow out of his pocked and set it on her lap. Her breath caught in her throat.

“When my dad passed away…I got into trouble. I dropped out of school senior year. I didn’t see a reason to keep going, so I stopped. Molten Silk gave me a new reason to continue. But…if I had gone to the dance with you, maybe you would have been my reason. Maybe I would have stayed in school. Maybe my mum wouldn’t have felt the need to pack me up and take me back to London.” He got down on one knee. “Ophelia, let me be your reason for living. Let me take care of you for as long as I can.”

Ophelia blinked several times, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Did he really just propose?
Or did the drugs make her hallucinate? She had the urge to pinch herself, to tell Trace he was crazy. But for once she told her head to shut up and listen to her heart. “Just tell me one thing…”

He glanced into her eyes, his features forlorn. “Anything.”

“What will happen with Molten Silk?”

“The band?” he scoffed. “They’ve been begging for a vacation.”

Ophelia rolled her eyes, but laughed. She eyed the little black box, picked it up, pulled off the bow, and opened it. Her eyes lit up at the diamond nestled in the center of the golden band. Trace wet his lips and watched in silence as she plucked the ring out of the box and pushed it over the appropriate finger.

“So is that a ‘yes’?”

Ophelia laughed. “Yes, Trace. I’ll marry you.”

His eyes lit up as he shot to his feet and pulled Ophelia into a kiss. The heat of his love filled Ophelia and lifted her heart. Her soul soared and it dawned on her, after all this time, why she was drawn to Trace Curtis. Hope.

* * * *

You and a guest are cordially invited to witness the marriage of Ophelia Martinez and Trace Curtis…that is if they make it to the altar in time. Find out in A TRACE OF HOPE: Part III of A Trace of Love.

About the Author

Danielle Ravencraft graduated from the International Academy of Design and Technology with a Bachelor Degree in Fine Arts. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her two Pomeranians. Growing up in the suburbs of Chicago, her writing is influenced by the multi-cultural urban society of her youth which she continues to visit each summer.

Also Available by Danielle Ravencraft:

A Trace of Love

Book One in A Trace of Love Series

Ophelia Martinez has a chance encounter with internationally famous rock-star, Trace Curtis. To Ophelia, Trace will always be the charming boy she met in high school. They share one night together in which Trace falls in love with Ophelia. But Ophelia knows she can’t continue to live in the past, at least not with the secret that haunts her present.

Excerpt:

Ophelia sat in her favorite spot in the entire world; the little bar in the very back of The House of Blues. Usually The House of Blues featured local bands; everything from Soul to Bluegrass. She couldn’t say why she loved it there. It wasn’t the music or the booze or the way reality seemed to evaporate in the dim lighting. But it was, nonetheless, her heaven.

Today was one of those rare occasions when the venue starred an international band, which meant The House of Blues was packed to the brim. The concert ended and the throngs of fans made their way to the exit. The bartender winked and handed her another beer. He knew Ophelia by name and always let her linger until they locked up.

Ophelia blinked as the lights brightened. Plastic cups, spilled beverages, straws, napkins, glow sticks, promotional fliers and the occasional bra littered the floor. A smile inched across her lips. Molten Silk put on a good show.

Other than the bartender, bouncer, stage crew and broom boy, The House of Blues was empty and eerily silent. The guys worked quickly, ignoring Ophelia as she nursed the last sip of her drink. The worst part of the day approached; the part where she would have to go home to an empty apartment.

Laughter broke the silence as five men walked out on stage, holding bottles of something alcoholic. “Oi! Is the bar still open?” one of them shouted. The bartender nodded. “Bring us a round over here, mate!”

Ophelia ducked her head, watching the men from the corner of her eye. They were Molten Silk, the band. They looked different in normal lighting, like regular people in ridiculous Goth costumes, but she was positive it was really them. Heat rushed to her face and she looked away.

“I’m goin’ for a smoke,” said an unmistakable voice. Ophelia didn’t want to turn around and stare, but she couldn’t help peeking over her shoulder. Trace Curtis, the lead singer, headed for the door with a cigarette bobbing between his lips, lighter ready in his hand. She held her breath as he passed by, just inches behind her. She knew him back when he was Mathew Curtis, the heart-throb teen that played guitar for the lunch ladies. She didn’t know why Mathew changed his name after his debut album went platinum.

Trace paused at the door. He turned around and glanced at Ophelia. She looked away, hoping he didn’t notice her staring. It’s not like it matters, she thought. He’s just going to keep right on walking out the door.

“Do I know you?”

Ophelia jumped. She turned and came face to face with Trace Curtis. A small bout of panic took her mind. Should she tell him they went to high school together? She doubted it would help. They were just as much strangers in high school as they were in adulthood and it would be best to keep it that way. She shook her head.

He leaned against the bar counter. “Are you sure?”

Ophelia smiled. “I think I would remember if we met before.”

Trace wet his lips. “Have a drink with me?”

She looked at her empty beer bottle. What harm could another beer do? “Sure.”

Grinning, Trace snapped his fingers and ordered two more beers. He took a seat and looked Ophelia over, letting his eyes linger just long enough to make her blush. “I could swear I’ve seen you before.”

She shrugged. “Maybe you have. I come here every weekend.” But Trace didn’t look convinced.

“Oi, Trace! We’re going bar hopping, mate! Come on.”

Well, that’s the end of that, thought Ophelia.

But Trace didn’t move, except to wave his band mates away. “You guys go ahead; I’ll meet you back at the hotel later.”

The guys made cat-calls aimed at Ophelia, her cheeks burned scarlet.

“Sorry about them,” Trace mumbled, scowling at his friends as they left. He reached for his beer at the same time Ophelia reached for hers. A tiny shock of static passed between their fingers. Ophelia jumped and glanced at Trace. He scoffed and then moved his fingers so they glided over hers. His skin was warm and callused from years of playing guitar. His pale blue eyes studied her face.

Ophelia bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. Oh, Mathew, you’re still just as smooth as ever; touching my hand, but keeping your gaze above my neckline. As if she didn’t know what he was after.

Trace removed his hand and cleared his throat. “So, are you from around here?”

She shrugged, trying not to burst into giggles. “Close enough.”

He glanced away, looking first at the stage and then at the door. Ophelia winced. He was probably getting bored and wished he’d joined his friends. She shouldn’t have felt hurt. She shouldn’t have cared if he left. He was just one guy. But at the same time, he wasn’t. He was Mathew, her old high school crush.  And she expected him to be the same cocky dick. But he wasn’t. He was standing next to her shuffling his feet and blushing at the awkward silence like an average Joe.

At the same time, Trace and Ophelia mumbled what they both thought. “You want to get out of here?”

They blinked at each other and Trace chuckled, his voice as lovely and carefree as a child’s. Ophelia laughed and felt herself relax, instantly at ease in Trace’s company.

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