Sugar, Butter, Flour, and Love - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Trace was in an unpredictable mood every time I mentioned our upcoming beach trip. He did a better job at concealing his emotions compared to me but his discomfort was there in his pursed lips and the near constant glint of irritation in his eyes. When it was finally the day of the trip, Trace seemed more upset than ever.
We waited in front of my building with our luggage as Trace sat on a nearby bench with one leg crossed over the other. For the first time in the almost year that I'd known him he was wearing shorts. They went past his thighs but made his prosthetic more than a little obvious. The new leg was similar but not quite the same as the old one. It was still made of the dark gleaming lightweight material that seemed as sturdy as it seemed futuristic.
"I think you look cute today," I said quietly.
Trace froze and looked over at me with narrowed eyes. "You don't have to compliment me just because I'm in a bad mood." He was rarely sharp with me but there was an edge there. I knew it had nothing to do with me but it still hurt.
"I'm being honest, Trace," I said slowly. "You do look nice today and if anyone stares at you at the beach it may not have anything to do with your prosthetic."
Trace let out a short, bitter laugh. "Right."
"We don't have to go, you know," I said with a bit of bite. "No one is forcing us."
"I used to love going to the beach," Trace said softly. "And then when I tried going again...after...Everyone was staring at me. It's not like I don't want to go, Darius. It just scares me."
Before I could think of the right words to say Manny and his fiancée, Marisol, rolled up to the curb. They were both dressed for the warm weather with shorts and t-shirts and smiles. Manny got out of the car after parking and embraced me in a quick hug.
"Mijo," Manny said fondly. "Nice to see you! And hey, Trace, what's up, dude?"
Trace smiled, shaking hands with Manny and giving Marisol a hug. She didn't seem surprised by Trace's prosthetic so I figured Manny had told her about it. Marisol had warm cinnamon tinged  skin with dark wavy hair that settled in a bob. She had always been beautiful and there were still times that Manny had confessed he felt tongue tied around her. Even though they were in the process of wedding planning things hadn't changed between them. Everyone exchanged greetings before we piled into Manny's Jeep. The beach house was just over an hour out of the city and I snoozed on the ride over.
I woke up to Trace's fingers sliding over the back of my hand and him watching me. I stretched as much as I could while yawning.
"Sorry, was I snoring?" I said.
"No, baby, you don't snore," Trace said quietly. "We're here now but I felt bad about waking you up. You look cute, can I kiss you?"
The request surprised me but I was quick to unbuckle my seatbelt and lean over to kiss Trace. His lips were soft as he gave me one slow kiss after another, one hand cupping the side of my face and the other squeezing higher and higher on my thigh. A low moan rattled from my throat and Trace abruptly stopped kissing me.
He leaned back, checks flushed and his lips wet as he stared into my eyes. "Let's do more of that later?"
I licked my lips, my eyes fixed on Trace's plump mouth. "Please."
Trace unbuckled his seatbelt and the snick reminded me that I wasn't glued to my seat. Once we got out of the car we found Manny and Marisol talking at the entryway of the beach house.
"Finally awake?" Manny called out in a voice that was a little too knowing for my liking. He'd definitely seen our not too subtle kissing. "Get dressed so we can head to the beach. Me and Mari are gonna load up the car. I have some sandwiches in the kitchen for you in case you're hungry. Don't get distracted."
I coughed. "I won't get distracted."
Trace patted me on the back. "I'll keep an eye on him, no worries."
Manny snorted. "I bet you will, T."
It didn't take long for us to get ready, but I was still surprised when I saw Trace in his swim trunks. They were shorter than I expected, reaching about mid thigh and exposing the musculature of his meaty thighs. And Trace had wonderful thighs... His swim shorts were blue with small yellow bananas on them. When my eyes roved up his body I saw his sculpted chest, his impossibly distracting nipple piercings and a small, yet satisfied smirk on Trace's face. The other half of his face was taken up by a dark pair of sunglasses but that did nothing to make him look anything less than mouth wateringly hot.
"I like your shorts," I said quickly, feeling my face burn even after I'd said it.
"Aw, thanks, baby. I like your shorts, too. They make your ass look—"
I missed the rest of Trace's sentence because of the loud blaring of honking. Manny was obviously getting impatient.
"Wait, what did you say?" I asked Trace as we made our way outside.
His laughing was easy and carefree. "Nothing I won't repeat later. Now come on, let's go the beach."
#
There were sparse clouds riddled across the sky but it did nothing to temper the intensity of the high heat. The golden rays grazed across the white golden sand and made the blue waters sparkle. The waves flowed and ebbed, leaving the sand dark and nearly muddy with every rising tide. There were dozens of families and many other groups spread across the sand, and even more in the water. There were buoys to stop people from going too far but no one had ventured quite that far.
The lifeguards were high up on their chairs, watching the people in a way that was almost bored.
Most people were simply sun bathing on the sand or playing with frisbees, beach volleyballs or sleeping.  The four of us had found a place high up on the beach that was pretty far removed from everything. But it was a good spot because we could have a semblance of privacy amongst everything that was happening. It was also nice to know that if Trace wanted to be affectionate it wouldn't be easy for people to stare.
So far though the three of us had gone in the water a few times before Marisol and Manny went over to the volleyball court and I hung out with Trace.  it was fascinating to watch the sun glint across Trace's smooth muscled frame as he lay on the beach towel under the large umbrellas me and Manny had set up. Of all things Trace could be doing, he was reading. He refused to go into the water because he'd said he was worried about water and sand getting into his prosthetic. But he seemed content to sit under the shade and read.
A part of me wished Trace could come in the water with me but I knew just him being there was a big step. A few people had been staring at his prosthetic but most people caught themselves and looked away. I wondered if Trace reading was so he wouldn't notice people looking at him. It was only then that I took a good look at the book in Trace's hands.
"What are you even reading?" I asked.
Instead of answering he put down the book and patted a spot closer to him. I scooted over and Trace took off his sunglasses. He was smiling as he looked at me, and I stayed still as he put a finger on my chest and traced a path down to my navel.
"You look very kissable like this."
I swallowed. "Thanks."
Trace leaned in, his lips just a breath away from mine and his nose teasing my cheek. It was almost a kiss. If I did so much as breathe our lips would be touching. The teasing was terrible but he knew I secretly loved it. It took me a moment to realize Trace wasn't moving closer. I took a breath and our almost kiss quickly turned into something intimate. His lips were as soft as the kiss was hard. Trace let me up for air long enough for me to get my wits about me.
I put both my hands on his chest, not pushing him away but not letting him any closer. "Trace... we're at the beach."
Trace kissed my jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. "You're so fucking hot," his voice was low and gravelly, the sound making my belly flip.
I breathed out slowly, trying to redirect the blood flow to my brain and not elsewhere. I wanted him to ruin me. To kiss me until I couldn't breathe, to force moan after moan from my throat and to touch me until I wouldn't be able to remember what my skin felt like without the heat of him against me.
But not at the beach.
"I— I think this is enough," I said, even as I leaned into Trace as he kissed my shoulder.
Trace blew a breath over my shoulder and leaned back on the blanket. Away from me. He picked up his book but then put it down again. "Can you help me get sunscreen on my back? It's kind of...hard to reach."
I felt my eyes widen as my heart skipped a beat. "You're killing me here, Trace."
He gave me a wicked grin, delving into his backpack to get out a large bottle of sunscreen. He took his time to do his face, chest, arms and his one exposed leg. Then, before I knew it Trace was turning over and displaying his back.
"Have you told them you can't go to the reunion, yet?"
Just like that I felt like I was doused by reality. I shifted awkwardly in my spot, not wanting to think about Baking Beasts at all.
Trace picked up on my hesitation but spoke gently, "You told me you'd call them before our trip, Darius. I asked you if you wanted me to be there when you called them but you said no."
"Because you don't need to be there." I squeezed out some sunscreen and started slathering it over Trace's back. It wasn't the first time I noticed that Trace had little to no upper body hair but it made his musculature so much more obvious. It was also nice to feel his skin as I massaged the cream. "I'll call them after we get back."
"Or you can do it today," he said in a sing song tone.
"Don't rush me," I snapped, my voice hard in a way I didn't recognize.
The muscles across Trace's back tensed for a moment but he didn't say anything.
I chewed my lip for a beat. "I didn't mean to say that. That was so rude. I'm sorry." My eyes filled with tears and it took everything in me for them not to spill over. Thoughts swarmed in my head as I tried to understand why I'd spoken to Trace that way. He was so understanding and he loved me and he cared and he was a good person and yet  I somehow still felt pressured.  I wasn't good with pressure.
"It's fine," Trace said softly. "I know you're stressed and that can make things hard. I'm not offended. But I want you to call them the second you feel ready to."
"Alright," I said, continuing to apply sunscreen on Trace's back. His shorts were snug on his rear and somehow they'd managed to slip a little lower than he probably intended. I touched that delicate slip of skin where his back started to slope and his breathing hitched.
Trace's voice was rough when he spoke, "Don't get me wrong, I love how you're touching me right now but you're the one who said we were at the beach." He'd raised his head to look at me when he spoke and his gaze locked on something over my shoulder. Trace sat up quickly and started staring across the beach. I turned to follow his gaze and watched as a pair started steadily making their way towards us.
There was a mother and a young girl standing several feet away from our spot in the sand and openly staring at Trace's leg. In fact the little girl was pointing right at Trace. I watched in horror as the two of them kept walking towards us, the little girl leading the way with something like excitement on her face.
"Oh no," I whispered. "This can't be happening."
Trace didn't say anything and the silence was worrying. Before I knew it the pair was upon us and the little girl's eyes were wide.
"I'm really sorry about staring," the mother said quickly. "Jessica's just never seen someone...different before."
"Why does your leg look like that?" the girl asked pointedly, stretching her arm to point right at Trace's prosthetic. "Did you get rid of it so you could be like a cyborg?" She wrinkled her nose. "It looks so gross and weird."
"Jessica— stop it!" The mother's voice was stern but didn't carry a lot of weight behind it. "I told you we could only come ask the nice man about his... leg if you were polite. Ask politely and I'm sure you can learn something new today." The woman smiled at the both of us.
I cleared my throat. "I really don't think this is appropriate because my boyfriend isn't a learning opportunity for your child. We'd both appreciate it if you just left us alone."
The woman opened her mouth to speak but before she could get a word out Trace spoke in a voice that cracked like a whip, "Does my body look like a museum exhibit to you?"
The girl gasped, and her eyes widened in shock. But Trace wasn't finished as he turned his hard gaze on her.
"How old are you?"
"I-I'm nine," she stammered out.
"That's old enough not to come over here acting like I'm a circus freak. Do I look like I have wings? Do I have stripes? Tell me, are we at the zoo, Jessica?" His voice rose with every question until he was full on yelling. The beach wasn't super crowded but there were enough people that some turned towards us. It was like I could feel their stares and the judgments honing in on us.
Jessica's shoulders hunched inward and she blinked rapidly, her eyes filling with tears. Her lip puckered as she struggled to speak, "N-N-no."
Trace directed his glare to her mother. "For your sake I hope you don't have any other children you've utterly failed to teach manners or any sense of human decency to."
"Well, it seems more like your mother failed you," the woman snapped back. She grabbed her daughter's hand and held it tight. "What you're doing right now is completely uncalled for! We just wanted to learn something."
Trace grinned, his smile anything but friendly. It was like I couldn't recognize him. "This is me being nice, lady. Next time don't come up to disabled people as a fucking 'learning opportunity' for your kid. All I wanted was to just come to the beach with my boyfriend."
"Trace," I said quietly. "I think that's enough."
His cool, dark eyes flicked towards me like I was a stranger and next on the list for his verbal rampage. I almost expected the whip-like words to come for me next but instead familiarity made his eyes widen at my expression. He parted his lips to speak and then closed them, frowning.
By then the mother and daughter had left but I could hear the carrying sounds of the little girl sniffling and crying even as they hurried away.
Trace started to noisily put his things away in his bag, swearing up a storm under his breath.
"Sweetheart," I started, but Trace fixed me with a glare that was so severe my words trailed away.
He must've seen the fear in my expression because he suddenly looked like he'd smelled something sour and then realized it was him. He put his head in his hands and roughly filed his fingers through his hair. I was horrified to see more than a few strands ripped out of his scalp with the rough treatment. Trace sat there like an infuriated statue for one heartbeat and then another before he put his head back in his hands. His voice was slightly muffled as he spoke but I heard him clearly, "I'm just so angry I can't think. I don't mean to be angry but it's like all I can see is red.  I can't deal with this. I'm mad at you for just trying to comfort me."
I didn't know what to say. I thought that the way Trace had spoken to that family, especially the child, was horrifying. He'd been cruel in a way I wasn't sure was justified but I didn't know how I could pass judgment on him when he was so upset.
"Hey guys, excuse me?" I turned to see a lifeguard standing over the both of us. He was probably an inch or two shorter than me and seemed used to intimidating people through his height. He was wearing a dark pair of sunglasses and his expression was unreadable. "We got some complaints and we're going to have to ask you to leave."
"What?" I said. "Why? Was it that woman and her daughter?"
The lifeguard nodded. "I think you've done enough damage here today. That's not the kind of behavior we allow at this beach."
"Of course," Trace muttered sarcastically.
"Don't tell me you have more to say?" the lifeguard drawled out.
"Hey, what's going on here?" Manny called out as he jogged over to where we were on the sand. Marisol was behind him, watching the scene unfold warily.
The lifeguard put his arms over his chest. "Your friends here gave some poor mom and her kid a really hard time. I'm asking them nicely to leave the beach."
Manny's brow furrowed. "You must have the wrong guy. Darius would never give anyone a hard time." It wasn't hard to notice that Manny didn't make any effort to defend Trace. Instead he gave Trace a long look.
"No," the lifeguard said, oblivious to the judgmental glance Manny was throwing Trace's way. "They said they were here. I'm not going to ask again. I don't want to have to call the police."
Manny called over to Marisol in Spanish, telling her to pack their things. Then he looked at me, still speaking in Spanish, "Mijo, what's going on here?"
I shook my head, not wanting to talk as we packed up our things. It was quiet and awkward as the lifeguard loomed over us until we were finished gathering our things. The walk to the car was silent and once we got there Trace put his sunglasses over his face and stared out the window as if the world had wronged him.
I pulled out my phone, agonizing over whether or not I should text Trace and what I should say.
R u okay? No. That didn't make any sense since I knew he wasn't okay.
You can always talk to me. Nope, that felt hollow.
I love you. Well, that just felt like I was ignoring everything that had just happened.
I was staring at my phone screen before I saw three little dots appearing indicating that Trace was typing. When I looked over at him I saw that he was glowering at his screen, his thumbs moving quickly.
And then the message appeared, I know I shouldn't have talked to either of them like that. And I understand that you didn't want to see me like that. I fucked up.
I wanted to tell him it was okay, and I understood. But I didn't understand...not really anyways.
Can we talk when we get back? I typed back instead.
After we get back I'm going to go on a walk.
Oh.
I put my phone away after that, disappointed and hurt by Trace's reaction. It was so unlike him it was nearly dizzying. It seemed like Trace's anger left him cold, dismissive and unfamiliar and I didn't like it one bit. I looked at him in the seat next to me, watching as he stared blankly out the window. For the first time in our relationship, I felt like I couldn't recognize the man I loved and I hoped the feeling would be fleeting.
#
When we got back to the beach house, Trace changed his clothes, packed a backpack and left without even saying bye. It was like my boyfriend was a stranger. It felt as inexplicable as the painful squeeze in my chest at the foreignness of his actions.
Manny had been watching Trace suspiciously until he left. Before the door had even closed he came over to me in the living room and gestured for me to sit down.
"What's up with him?" Manny said, concern making his voice warmer. "You told me he was a good guy, Mijo. Is he usually like that?"
I shook my head. "No, I don't think I've ever— seen him like that."
Manny frowned, his eyes narrowing. "You being honest? He doesn't get mad at you like that? Ever? Because I swear to God if he does we're gonna have problems."
I shook my head hard. "No. Seriously Manny. It's just— this woman and her daughter were asking about his leg and the girl said it was gross. The mom brought her over there so her daughter could learn that there are different kinds of people and —he just lost it, Manny. He was saying all these terrible things and I've never seen anyone so angry. Not like that." His anger hadn't seemed violent but the intensity had been frightening.
Manny hesitated, but then he touched my knee and squeezed. I knew the gesture was meant to be comforting but it felt like he didn't know what else to do.
I swallowed. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think."
"You told me he was in an accident right?"
"Yeah, he said sometimes when it's about his leg he gets...upset."
"Okay, so he's traumatized."
I winced. "Manny."
He raised his hands up. "Hey, sorry. I'm just calling it how I see it. I have a little cousin who was in a fire when she was seven and sometimes if it's really hot or something sounds like how the fire did she loses it. She doesn't get mad but she has to be alone. Maybe it's like that?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel guilty for inviting him. When we met he said he'd be okay with anything besides the beach. I'm so stupid...I don't know what I was thinking inviting him here."
"No Darius, you're not stupid. Even if he blew up you didn't expect people to confront him about his disability in a public setting. Maybe he should have a better temper but they pushed the buttons of someone with serious trauma. It couldn't be helped."
I sighed and Manny squeezed my knee again.
"Come on, let's make some food so your guy has something to eat when he comes back from his walk."
I nodded silently and stood up to follow Manny into the kitchen.
#
Trace didn't make it back for dinner so I stayed up by myself in the living room waiting for him to come back.  The trip was supposed to be fun, romantic and relaxing and it felt awfully lonley to be sitting on the couch and waiting for Trace to contact me somehow. I had a lot of time to collect my feelings as the hours passed and I realized the confusing blur of emotions weren't so confusing after so much introspection.
At some point past midnight I nodded off and when I woke up again there was a blanket across my lap and Trace was sitting next to me on the couch. He looked like the man I'd fallen in love with and I relaxed once I realized he wasn't angry anymore.
"I—" I started.
"I'm sorry," Trace said, cutting me off.  He sounded so ashamed it hurt, especially because I knew how proud of a man Trace was. "I'm so sorry, Darius. When I get like that I just need to be on my own. Everything just makes me so angry and I didn't want to take it out on you. So I had to get out. I can't—" his eyes glossed over and his voice broke. "I can't take it out on you ever, Darius. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I did."
"It's okay," I mumbled.
Trace frowned and quickly wiped his eyes. "No, it's not okay. I cussed out a kid and disappeared for half the day. I don't think any of that is okay."
"When we started dating you said you'd be up for anything except the beach. I should have listened to you when you said that. You obviously went out of your comfort zone for me and I want you to know you don't have to do that, Trace. It's not worth it if we can't have a good time together."
Trace's expression fell. "Can I hug you?"
I nodded. "Yes, you can hug me."
Trace folded his arms around me and held me for a long time. "I thought I could do it. But I should have been more honest with myself. I'm sorry for freaking out."
"It's okay," I said earnestly. "I'm not going to love you less just because I can't put sunscreen on your back at the beach."
Trace chuckled and stopped hugging me so he could kiss me on the cheek. "Your hands were going a little lower than my back, baby. Don't you think?"
I cleared my throat. "My hands were exactly where they needed to be."
Trace raised his brows. "On my ass?"
"I didn't get that far," I said, flustered.
"Oh, I wish you had," Trace said with a lascivious grin.
But my smile dimmed as I prepared myself for the other things I wanted to say. "I need you to give me a sign if something like that is at risk of happening. Because I tried to de-escalate the situation but you were just on a rampage. And." I swallowed. "That scared me Trace. Because I won't know what to do when you're like that."
Trace nodded solemnly. "The last thing I want to do is scare you, baby. I'm going to schedule an emergency session with my therapist when I get back and work on some new techniques. You already know that my anger is one of my PTSD symptoms but that's not an excuse and things didn't have to turn out like this today."
"Thank you, Trace," I said genuinely, glad he'd responded well to my concerns.
I yawned loudly and it hit me right then how exhausted I was. "You know what? I think it's time to go to bed," I said quickly, getting up.
"Just because we go to bed doesn't mean we have to go to bed. You know?" Trace murmured. He placed a hand on my thigh and a lick of desire bloomed in my belly.
"You're crazy," I said with a smile, but I was tempted.
"Yeah, baby, I'm crazy for you." I rolled my eyes but Trace only laughed. He kissed me on the cheek, his lips moving down to my jaw and then my neck.
"I think we should...hmm," I trailed off as Trace began to kiss me.
Trace placed an open mouthed kiss on the side of my neck, sucking for a heartbeat before sliding a hand under my shirt. His hands were warm on my chest, trailing up and down until I wasn't sure what the end goal was. Trace's kisses moved to the shell of my ear. His breaths were warm as he spoke directly into my ear.
"Can I touch you?" Trace murmured, his hand hovering at my waist.
I made an incomprehensible noise before nodding hurriedly. "Sure," I said. "I mean, yes. You can. I'm okay with that but let's go to the bedroom."
Trace chuckled but relented, entwining our hands together as he lead me to our bedroom.