THE SPACE BETWEEN US

Chapter 12

Grace's POV

I hear his footsteps approaching, and my heart races. He reaches the door, shutting it firmly, locking it behind him. My anxiety spikes—this is our workplace.

His expression darkens as he closes the distance between us. I instinctively back away, pressing against the wall.

Trace leans in, palms resting on either side of me, effectively trapping me. I look up, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

“Who was that dumbass?”

My words stumble out in a rush. “M-my best friend.” His proximity makes my heart race faster, my breathing shallow.

“You hug him often?” His voice drops lower, the air thick with tension.

As he presses closer, I feel every part of me flush with heat. He shifts his left knee, resting it against the wall between my legs. I struggle to find my voice, a single tear escaping as I try to respond.

“No.” It’s barely a whisper. I can’t breathe—his presence is suffocating in the best way possible.

His right hand leaves the wall, settling on my waist. I instinctively bring my hands up to touch him, one resting on his chest, the other finding its way to his abdomen, fingers crumpling the fabric of his shirt.

He lifts me slightly, my feet still on the ground, but I can feel myself giving in to him. The pressure against the wall becomes intoxicating.

“Please,” he murmurs, his breath tickling my skin. I tremble, unsure if I want to pull away or lean into him.

“Don’t let your friend get close to you. Not even with his hands. You have no idea how much it hurts me to see you with another man, smiling and laughing. I want you with me, all of you. Why don’t you understand?” His voice is pleading, and I can feel the warmth of his tears on my neck.

This isn’t what I expected. I muster the strength to pull his face up to meet mine. Seeing him so vulnerable shatters me. I wipe his tears with my cuff, and he mirrors my actions, brushing my cheeks with his hands.

“Trace,” I say softly, and he smiles at the sound of his name.

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard you call my name,” he says, his smile breaking through the tension.

“I want to keep holding onto you.”

I want that too, but what’s the guarantee you’ll hold onto me forever? I want to believe in your words, but your past haunts me. Why do you keep leaving me? What happened that Friday? Am I not trustworthy?

My heart races with questions, but I don’t voice them. I can’t bear to hurt him when he’s finally calming down.

We hear a knock at the door, jolting us back to reality.

"Come in," Trace says, and my heart races again.

But how do I? s**t! He locked the door.

Trace’s eyes widen in panic as he rushes to unlock it.

It’s the boss’s assistant.

I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the moment. Trace turns to me, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"I’ve sent you the link to the class, Mr. Trace. Could you check that out?" The assistant asks, and Trace retrieves his phone, scrolling to find the message.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." As soon as the assistant receives the approval, he leaves, mouthing a 'sure.'

Trace’s gaze returns to me, his eyes filled with a mix of admiration and longing. I break the contact—if I keep looking at him, I won’t be able to focus on work.

Ahh, this man is such a distraction!

---

Trace’s POV

I sit back down, captivated by the sight of her. I don’t even try to hide my admiration. I study her, wishing only good things for her.

I know how much she wants to question me, can see the anxious, curious glimmer in her eyes. I want to share everything with her, but I hesitate.

How will she react? What will she think of me after I lay it all out? For the past three years, she has consumed my thoughts. Every day, I checked my phone, hoping for a text that never came. I know she lost hope because I never gave her a reason to hold onto it.

Her fingers nervously crumpled the fabric of my shirt, and I can’t help but smile at what just happened.

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