“I’m great,” she answered, shifting her weight as if she was nervous.
She had nothing to be nervous about. They’d ended on good terms, or so he’d thought, after their weekend. He’d thought about her often enough that had there been anything negative he would have remembered. He’d swear he recalled every detail of that weekend in vivid color.
“That’s good to hear. How’s life been treating you?”
Her gaze cut to beyond him, and, ignoring his question, she said, “Sorry, but if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to talk to.” She paused, briefly met his gaze with a steely expression in her green eyes. “Good to see you again, Travis.”
Travis? Ouch.
He watched her walk away, greet Agnes Coulson, a bear of a woman and the Children’s Cancer Prevention Organization founder. True to how he’d just thought of her, Agnes wrapped Chrissie into a big hug, causing her to laugh as she hugged the woman back, then wiggled free.
“It’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed to the woman, showing the excitement Trace would like to have seen when she’d greeted him. He wouldn’t have minded one of those hugs, either.
Instead, he’d effectively been put in his place.
Not that he was buying that she’d forgotten his name.
He wasn’t.
She hadn’t forgotten. But she wanted him to think she had. That was her way of letting him know she wasn’t interested.
Which wasn’t what her eyes had conveyed when she’d first seen him. He’d have bet anything she’d felt the same excitement he had.
He knew she had.
Maybe she’d taken that closer look, seen the harshness that almost suffocated him these days, and known the best thing she could do was stay away.
He wasn’t the same man he’d been four years ago. Not by far. In some ways, he was better. In some, not so much.
“You two had something a few years back, didn’t you? Right before you left for Sudan?”
Trace turned to Bud Coulson, Agnes’s husband. They headed up the event each year. They’d done so for the past twenty years. Their only child had been diagnosed with, and died from, a rare type of brain cancer, and they’d dedicated their lives to raising awareness and funds to fight pediatric cancers. Trace’s family regularly donated to their organization. Four years ago, before he’d left for his Doctors Around the World stint overseas, Trace had done more than pull out his hefty checkbook. He’d volunteered as an extra helper, something he’d done numerous times over the years in different capacities with CCPO.
Even before Doctors Around the World he’d wanted to do more to help others than just practice medicine. Thank goodness for Bud and Agnes’s influence over the years that had planted that seed that drove him to help others.
How could he not support the foundation when it was a way of keeping Kerry alive to the couple he loved so much?
“I was quite taken with her the weekend we met,” he admitted, not letting his mind go to little Kerry and the guilt he always felt when he thought of her.
Instead, he let memories of Chrissie flood through his mind. He’d always wondered if the intensity of that weekend had been because he’d known he was heading into the unknown. Which he’d wanted. He still wanted even if his parents had begged him to come home to stay. He understood their concern.
Especially after the incident at the Shiara MSF hospital in Yemen.
Automatically, he placed his hand over his right lower abdomen. That one had been a bit too close for comfort, but at least he’d walked away with his life, which he couldn’t say of all his colleagues.
Damn cowardly terrorists attacking a hospital. Damn that he’d walked away when so many good people had died.
“Your dad told me about what happened.” Bud gestured to where Trace touched. “You should have come home to let us take care of you.”
Trace rammed his hand into his pocket.
“There was nothing anyone could do.” There hadn’t been. He’d been one of the lucky ones. “Besides, I lived.”
“I was surprised you didn’t opt to come home after that,” Bud mused, then shook his head. “I take that back. That you opted to stay didn’t really surprise me.”
“Coming home wasn’t an option.” Not one that he’d ever considered at any rate. He planned to live his life doing mission work. Settling down wasn’t for him. A wife and kids wasn’t his lot in life and he never wanted it to be.
His gaze cut to the woman still smiling and chatting with Agnes. Her hands waved animatedly as she described something. Both women burst into laughter and a deep ache pierced Trace.
“Your father would move heaven and earth to convince you to come back,” Bud mused, watching Trace rather than his wife and Chrissie. “He’s hoping you’re home to stay.”
Trace frowned. “We both know I’ll be leaving as soon as I’m given my next assignment. My father doesn’t understand.”
Bud shook his head. “You’re right. He doesn’t. Not many do.”
Trace’s eyes shifted toward the older man. “You saying you don’t? Because I wouldn’t believe you. You of all people understand the need to do more than just accept things for the way they are. This organization is testament to that.”
“Agnes and CCPO are my life.” One side of Bud’s mouth tugged upward. “Then again, at one time the Marine Corps was my life, too. I served time overseas and wouldn’t trade those memories and the brothers I gained for anything. I think we accomplished a lot of good things, but that doesn’t mean I’d go back. Sometimes we have to let go of one thing we care about to make room for another.” He glanced lovingly at his wife.
Trace cocked his brow at the older man. “You trying to tell me you don’t think I should go?”
Bud shrugged. “Only you know the answer to whether or not you should go back.” He nodded toward where Chrissie and Agnes still talked, obviously catching up. “Maybe it’s time you find a reason to want to stay home rather than go as far away as possible.”
“Those people need help every bit as much as the kids you’re raising money for,” Trace pointed out, not acknowledging Bud’s claim that he might have been running from something when he’d signed on to Doctors Around the World. “They’re innocent victims of governments and wars they have no control over.”
“Civilians are always the innocent victims of war,” Bud agreed. “You do what you feel is right for you, son. All I’m saying is that there is a lot of good you can do here, too. I just think you need to keep that in mind, because I’m not convinced going back is the right choice for you.”
Trace eyed the older man suspiciously. “You’re sure Dad didn’t put you up to trying to talk me into staying?”
Bud laughed. “I won’t say he’s never mentioned hoping you’d stay to me, but I’m speaking for myself.”
Trace nodded. He’d figured as much. His successful businessman father would probably fund Bud’s charity for the next fifty years if he could convince Trace to stay in Atlanta.
Which would be a good reason to stay, if it didn’t mean having to deal with his father on a regular basis.
“In case you haven’t noticed, Blondie is looking your way.”
Trace had noticed. Hard not to notice those intense emerald eyes studying him. He could feel her interest, could feel her body’s reaction to him.
The same interest and reaction he was having to her.