Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,68
nodded. "I didn't expect I'd come like it - the ranching, the bull riding - all of it. No one was more surprised than me. And, well, Cecilia. I didn't bank on Cecilia."
Robbie snorted. "No one banks on her." He held out his hands when Trace growled at him. "Don't get your hackles up. I'm not saying that to be offensive. I just meant no one should underestimate her."
Trace scraped a hand over his beard. "I need to drive home. I have to explain to her."
"So you're not really Sterling's cousin?" Jax asked.
He shook his head.
"Who else knew about this?"
Trace outed his team of protectors. "Don't be mad at them? I insisted. If the press knew I was in Prairie, there'd be paparazzi everywhere - hiding in bushes, tailing people on motorcycles. They're assholes."
Across the room, his phone buzzed. Part of him wanted to throw the phone out the window, then run it over with his truck. But the other part of him needed to know. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion - he couldn't look away. Robbie tossed him the phone. He'd expected a dozen notifications, a written diatribe, maybe flaming emojis. But there were only two. A photo, that when he studied it, punched him in the gut, and a one line text from Cecilia that ripped his insides out. "I've returned your car to Resolution Ranch."
She didn't need to yell or send a long-winded text pointing out all the ways he was the biggest asshole ever. No, she was poetic to the core. Her screaming was louder and more effective in seven words than a fire and brimstone preacher with no time limit.
Trace stood. "Guys, I'm sorry. I have to drive back to Prairie. I have to talk to Cecilia. You can take me out and woodshed me Sunday night when you get home, but if I don't explain in person, I'll lose my only chance with her."
Robbie gave him a sympathetic look. "Get out of here."
Trace slipped into the bathroom to change his clothes. When he came out, he grabbed his wallet and keys and paused in front of Jax. "I meant what I said about being a silent investor. If you'll still have me."
Jax nodded, but didn't give any indication one way or another. Fuck. Talk about chickens coming home to roost. How had he not planned for this? He should have just put out an announcement that he was retiring and leaving Hollywood for good. But at first this had been a game to him. And his ego wouldn't let him walk away with his head down. Now he'd have a full five hours at least, to ponder all the ways he could have played this differently. Trace grabbed his gear bag off the suitcase rack. "See you guys back at the ranch." The door shut behind him with an eerie finality.
Sitting in the truck, he pulled out his phone. Texting was a longshot, and maybe it did more harm than good, but he was desperate and had nothing to lose. His gut told him the worst course of action would be silence. I'm on my way. I planned to tell you everything Sunday, but I'll explain all of it when I get there. He paused, thumb hovering over the letters. He could send it as is, but it wouldn't be the whole truth. And he'd been operating with so many half-truths that he needed to bite the bullet and come clean, no matter how much it scared him. I love you.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The sun was just breaking over the horizon when Trace pulled into the circle drive in front of the Sanchez residence. He cut the engine and heaved a sigh of relief, insides settling as if this was a homecoming and not a march to the guillotine. There were a few ways the next fifteen minutes could play out. A- Cecilia could refuse to see him, block him and cut him out of her life like a limb with gangrene. He gave himself about a fifty-fifty chance of that. B - Cecilia could hear him out, then cut him off. Chances of that? Maybe ninety-percent? His gut clenched at the thought. Again, if that was the outcome, he'd have to prove to Izzie he was worthy and then hope that Cecilia came around at some point in the future. C- Cecilia could hear him out, believe him, and they could ride off into the sunset together. Chances of that?