No, what I’m seeing is that he’s desperate because Betsy dumped his sorry ass. Thom is too insecure to be alone—he always has been—and he thinks he can come back to me, like I’m a consolation prize. I also see, now that I’m using my head, that he’s a self-absorbed narcissistic slime who took advantage of my naiveté and my fairy-tale dreams to keep me by his side way longer than I should have let him.
“Hey, she told you not to touch her.” Trace dumps everything in the bed of his truck, then closes in on Thom. “Take your hands off her.”
“You’re not her boyfriend. I am. I’ve got it from here. Get lost.” My ex gives him a dismissive glare and a matching wave of his hand.
He thinks Trace is somehow beneath him?
Of course Thom does. He’s a snob. But more than that, he’s afraid.
It’s so obvious now.
Thom always thought he had me in his back pocket, that he could come back to me at any time and I would be waiting. I don’t know when Betsy dumped him. It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s slept with other women since then. But what spooked him was me going public with Trace. He’s only here now because he wants to keep me in his sphere and under his control so I can be his backup plan, not because he actually cares.
I glare at Thom and wag a finger in his face. “Don’t talk to Trace like that. How dare you? You don’t know him. You don’t know my feelings for him. You don’t—”
Thom grips me so tightly I’m pretty sure his fingers will leave bruises. “I only want what’s best for you, and it’s not him. You’ve always been sheltered and too trusting, but let me tell you… I looked this guy up. He’s not going anywhere in life. He’s latching onto your rising fame. Prove to me you’re not stupid enough to let him.”
Trace steps between Thom and me, shoving my ex away. “Masey isn’t stupid. She doesn’t have to prove a fucking thing to you. And she told you not to touch her.”
“What part of fuck off don’t you understand, boat boy? You’re not your brother. You’re nothing but a man whore barely scraping by. Masey is mine, and I’ll touch her if I want to. Go find another pussy. This one belongs to me.”
I gape. Thom did not just say that.
Oh, but he did.
Before I can even open my mouth to let him have it, Trace hauls back and plants a fist in his face, sending Thom flailing onto his ass and howling. “I might be nothing, but I’m enough to stop you from hurting her again. She’s not just a pussy; she’s a woman with feelings and a heart you broke. If you’re going to storm back into her life and marry her, at least care enough about her to treat her right.”
I see it. In that moment, I see everything so clearly. I see more than my past and my present colliding—literally. Holding his bloody nose and staggering to his feet, I see Thom, the douche my girlish fantasies clouded me into believing was Prince Charming. And standing between us, I see Trace, the protector and lover my cynical heart wouldn’t let me accept as the man of my dreams. Until now.
I see my future.
With my heart bursting, I set a hand on Trace’s shoulder. “Thank you, but you shouldn’t have done that.”
He clenches his jaw and frowns. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll leave you two. If you’ll just give me my keys…”
“And good riddance, asshole,” Thom quips. “I’m going to press charges.”
I whirl on Thom. “Shut up! Shut the absolute fuck up, Thomas Mazelton Wilmer. You’re only here because Betsy got smart a lot faster than I did and dumped you on your snobby, egotistical ass, and you saw that Trace was man enough to be in the makeup video I’d begged you time and again to do with me. So you thought you could fly out here—I’m guessing Harlow told you where to find us?—and toss around a few words, flash a ring in my face, and after ten months, I would come crawling back. Ha! You’re the stupid one. You’re ten days too late because I met a man who’s kind, who cares about my feelings. He compromises. He listens. He’s funny. And he’s smart—”
“Pfft. He sounds like a bitch.”
Oh, I cannot stand this fuckwit shit-for-brains asshole anymore.