Chapter 8
EIGHT
He thinks…
… he thinks I’m her.
The girl who was supposed to have the world, who shone brighter than anyone I’ve ever known. She’s gone. She’s been gone for eight years. But he doesn’t know that. He thinks she’s right here in front of him, in my skin.
Everything feels frozen, suspended in some kind of surreal nightmare. And then, somehow, all motion comes rushing back in, all at once. A hysterical laugh bubbles up, unbidden, rising from somewhere deep inside me. It’s a hollow, empty sound that feels foreign like it belongs to someone else.
He’s alive.
And he thinks I’m Rosalee.
I laugh harder, the sound cracking, breaking. It feels wrong, all of it—like my chest is splintering open. Sylus’s arms tighten around me, and I can feel his concern and confusion, but I can’t stop. The laughter keeps spilling out.
Ace.
Rosalee.
I laugh until I feel tears in my eyes, until my ribs ache, until my vision blurs. It’s all too much—the shock, the confusion, the sheer impossibility of what I’m seeing. My entire body feels as if it’s breaking into a thousand pieces. The room blurs, my head spinning, and all I can do is laugh.
“Sparkle?” Sylus asks cautiously. He’s trying to bring me back, to ground me, but I can’t stop. I can’t because it hurts too much, and the only thing that seems to keep me from completely losing my mind is this laughter that sounds more like a scream.
Ace is here. Alive. Standing right in front of me.
I force myself up, pushing out of Sylus’s lap, my laughter morphing into a choked sound. Pain shoots through my arm, reminding me that this isn’t a dream. This is real.
He’s really here.
I stagger to my feet, the pain almost knocking me back down, but I ignore it. Sylus stands, too, and his hands are on my hips in an instant, trying to steady me, but I barely register his touch. Nothing feels real—nothing but him.
The laughter dies completely, replaced by a sob that tears through me.
All this time.
I mourned him. I hated myself for him. I loved him through all of it. And now, somehow, he’s standing here, alive, and looking at me like I’m someone else.
I can’t breathe.
“Little Thief, you okay?”
“Sparkle, baby. You’ve probably lost too much blood.”
“Rosie, sit down.”
The room, the people, the voices, all of it fades away until it’s just Ace and me.
Just us and all the years of pain, longing, and guilt between us.
“No… no, Ace.” I shake my head, a strangled sound escaping my lips. “I’m Novalee.”
The black suitcase he’s holding falls to the floor, and I watch as his face shifts through emotions—shock, confusion, then a shadow of realization, and a flicker of anguish twisted by pain.
“What?” He blinks, his gaze searching my face as if he’s trying to find a trace of familiarity, a hint of recognition. It’s like he’s desperate to piece together who’s standing in front of him.
He won’t find anything, though.
He never could.
“There is no fucking way anybody could keep you two apart.”
“I normally just know because Glitter is… glittery.”
Fuck.
Ace goes pale like a ghost. “No, that can’t be…”
“It’s me,” I say again, tears welling in my eyes. I take a step forward, but the movement only makes him flinch, his whole body going rigid.
“No.” He shakes his head, his voice rising, filled with anguish. “No, you can’t be…” He takes a stumbling step back as if he can’t bear to be near me. “You’re supposed to be dead. You’re—” He breaks off, and he looks at Koen. “What is this? Some kind of fucking joke?”
Koen’s face is tight, his gaze flicking between the two of us. “I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”
“Good to know I’m not the only one who has no idea what the fuck is going on right now,” Nicholas mutters from somewhere behind me.
“Ace,” I take a step closer to him. “Two seconds is all a mentalist needs to read someone’s soul. Read me, Ace. I’m me.”
“No,” Alaric whispers, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. She’s… you’re supposed to be gone,” he says, almost to himself. “I… I killed you.”
“You didn’t kill me,” I choke out, stepping forward, reaching for him, desperate to touch him, to reassure him that I’m here, alive, and feel that he is too. “Ace, please…”
But he flinches again, recoiling as if my touch would burn him. “Stay away from me,” he snaps hoarsely. “Don’t… don’t come near me.”
My heart splinters at his words. “I thought you were dead,” I whisper.
“They told me you were dead. I mourned you every single day. I… I thought it was my fault. I thought I killed you both. Ace…” I want to take another step toward him, but Sylus’s hands are still on my hips, trying to steady me.
I shake him off. I need to feel him. I need to know that this isn’t some sick trick of my imagination.
My hands find Ace’s shoulders, and I pull him into me, my arms wrapping around him, my face burying into the crook of his neck. He still smells the same, like burned wood, with earthy dark patchouli.
Like mine.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I hold onto him, like if I just hold tight enough, I can make everything right.
“Ace,” I whisper, and then the sobs come uncontrollably, tearing through me. I cry into his neck, his warmth grounding me, and for a few fleeting seconds, I’m home again.
But something is wrong. He’s not holding me. His arms are hanging at his sides, and his body—it’s stiff, rigid, like he’s frozen. I don’t even realize how bad it is until his hands come up, shoving me away.
“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, trembling. The look in his eyes is a dagger straight to my heart. I read his panic, the way his eyes dart around the room like he’s looking for an escape. “Don’t… just don’t.”
“Ace—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You… you’re supposed to be dead,” he repeats as he stumbles backward. “I was in jail because I killed you. You can’t be real. You’re not real.”
He was in jail?
Because of me?
Fuck.
“I’m here. I swear, I’m here. I’m so sor—”
“No!” His shout is raw, filled with so much pain it cuts right through me. He turns, pushes past Koen, and disappears without another word.
“Ace!” I try to call after him, but he’s already sprinting up the stairs. Then, a door slams shut, and the sound reverberates through my chest, splintering whatever was left of my heart.
“No.” I crumble, my legs giving out beneath me, but Sylus is there to catch me before I hit the floor. “No, no…”
“Shh, Sparkle.” He pulls me against his chest, his arms wrapping around me, holding me tightly. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
But I’m not.
I’m not okay.
Ace is alive, but he’s hurting, and I can’t reach him. I can’t make it right. A sob tears itself from my throat as I turn on shaky legs and bury my face into Sylus’s chest. His arms tighten around me, trying to hold me together when I feel like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces.
“Sylus,” I push my forehead against his chest, my hands clutching his shirt. “Please… he needs someone.”
When I look up through blurry eyes, Sylus’s expression softens, his gaze flickering with a mix of understanding and something similar to pain.
“I’m going to check on him, okay?” His firm lips press against my trembling ones, his thumb brushing a tear from my cheek as he pulls back.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Sparkle baby.
” He kisses me again, a gentle press, his lips catching the tears on mine before he turns and looks at Koen, who’s already stepping closer. “Take her, and I’ll go to him.”
He guides me toward Koen, his hands sliding down to my arms as he gently passes me over. Koen steps in immediately, wrapping his arms around me. Sylus gives me one last look, a small nod, then turns on his heel and heads out of the room, disappearing after Ace.
As I watch him go, Koen’s fingers tilt my chin toward him until our gazes meet. “Little Thief, hey…” There is tension beneath his words, urgency. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
I swallow hard, my throat raw, the words almost impossible to form. “Alaric, he’s… he’s Ace,” I manage to say. “The boyfriend I told you about. The one I thought I killed in the car crash.”
Koen’s eyes widen, the shock clear in his gaze. He glances toward the door where Ace disappeared, then back at me. “Fuck…”
“They told me he was dead. I… I thought it was my fault. I thought I killed him. But I didn’t. He’s alive.” I let out a shuddering breath. “But he doesn’t… he can’t even look at me.”
“We’re gonna figure this out,” Koen promises, his fingers brushing my cheek as he wipes away the tears. “But now we need to at least disinfect that wound on your arm. Let me go grab the case Ric left.”
I know he’s right, but I can’t let him go. Not right now. And I know it’s stupid, childish even, but the thought of being alone for even a second terrifies me like all the pain and grief will swallow me whole.
“Don’t… don’t let go,” I beg, my fingers curling tighter into his shirt. My eyes search his face, hoping, no, needing him to understand.
First, I think he’s going to argue, but then his expression softens even more. He bends down, his hands sliding down to grab my thighs, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me against him.
He carries me across the room to where Nicholas is standing, his face a mask of confusion. “Can you hold her for this?”
Nicholas’s eyes narrow at him, then flick down to me. There’s a hardness there, a resentment that’s impossible to miss. “I don’t think she wants me to—”
The words barely leave his mouth before another sob escapes me. It’s all too much, too raw. The barriers I’ve built up to keep myself safe are gone, and all I have left is my pain, my vulnerability.
“Please…” The word comes out small and broken, but it’s all I can manage.
Nicholas looks at me, his gaze searching my face. Then, slowly, his expression shifts, the hardness softening. He lets out a quiet sigh, then extends his arms toward Koen, nodding.