Chapter 17 #2
“Much easier than expected.” He squeezes my hand.
“Because it’s you. Being with you feels the same as it was before.
” He smiles, and that little gesture makes my heart flip.
“And I’ve been having some intense sessions,” he admits, his gaze fixed on where our hands are joined.
“Because I want to get over this the fastest way possible. My therapist is confident I will. At least with you. But honestly, I only need to be able to touch you and get touched by you anyway.”
My heart catches in my throat. “What did she say?”
“She says I have to remind myself of why this matters to me, why rebuilding intimacy with my girl is so much more important than my fear, and let that motivation guide me.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles.
“And to remind myself that you would never hurt me. That you were never the one who hurt me.”
He still thinks of me as his?
“Believe me, Trouble, my motivation is so damn high. I… I need us to talk openly and communicate. And I need you not to be mad at me when I fuck up.”
“Of course.” I roll forward a little on the skates, wobbling slightly, but his grip on my hand tightens, steadying me.
“It’s okay. You have trauma. I do too. There’s no rush, no expectation at all.
I just… this.” I lift our joined hands. “This is already everything. You have no idea how much it means to me to talk to you. You don’t have to do anything else. ”
“I do, Nova. I fucking do. Because I’ve craved you for years. I craved having you back, touching you, kissing you…” he takes a shaky breath, “… and now I could have it. I have you back. You’re here, a fucking miracle back from the dead. And I will not let myself get in the way of what I want.”
Oh my God.
I take a deep breath, but it makes me roll forward a little too far, and the wheels catch on a tiny crack in the driveway. I yelp, the sound embarrassingly similar to the dying baby goat he accused me of sounding like, and flail for balance.
Ace’s other hand shoots out, grabbing my forearm to steady me. Now, both of his hands are on me, and it flusters me more than I care to admit. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer, trying to laugh it off. “You should’ve let me fall on my ass. That wasn’t some ploy to get you to touch me, I swear.”
Ace lets out a laugh, a loud, carefree sound that’s so much like how he used to laugh. And right then and there, I make a silent promise—I’ll do everything in my power to hear that sound as often as possible.
But first, we have to talk this out. Sylus, Koen, and—God—even Nicholas. The fact that I’m a stripper. I have to tell him. He has to know everything.
“You called me your girl.”
Ace’s lips tug into a smirk. “Caught that, huh?” His grin deepens as his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, and the touch makes me suck in a sharp breath. “Nothing’s changed. You still have a say in it.”
His eyes lock onto mine with a gaze so intense it roots me in place, and I see him—not just the man in front of me but the sixteen-year-old boy who first called me his girl.
His eyes are the same, but the weight of life has carved something deeper into them.
The years, the grief, the separation… all of it falls away.
When I don’t say anything, he lets go of me and pulls up his sleeve, revealing a tattoo on the outside of his left forearm. It’s a match that’s blown out, the smoke curling up his arm in swirls.
“It’s for you.” His eyes stay fixed on the ink. “Some guy made it for me in juvie. It’s to remind me that you gave me your fire. You were my light. And I blew it out. I was left with this. Just a sizzled match and the smoke.”
My throat tightens as I stare at the tattoo, unable to look away. The curling smoke, the silent mourning of life destroyed, yet lingering. It’s like he’s wearing his grief on his skin, carrying the weight of what we lost for years.
But the matchstick… it’s still there, isn’t it?
Not burned away entirely. Just waiting for someone to strike it again.
Waiting for hope.
“But even after years of falling apart…” he continues, his eyes finding mine again, “… there’s still a part of me left for you. Even when I’m broken, I’m yours.”
Something cracks open inside me. I see him as he was, a boy with endless sass and light. And now, here he is, showing me what’s left—a broken gift he’s afraid I’ll reject.
My thoughts spiral. He’s calling himself broken, but what about me? This tattoo is for the other Nova, the Nova from before.
Does he know what it’s cost me to survive?
The question churns in my mind.
He’s saying that I’m his, but does he realize what I am now?
The things I’ve done?
“And you think I’m not? You think losing her and you didn’t break me? You think I’m whole? That I’m sane?”
He freezes, and I see the shock on his face.
But I can’t stop now. The floodgates have opened, and the words tumble out.
“Do you know what I’ve done to survive, Ace?
” The words tear out of me. “Stripping, stealing, drinking until I couldn’t feel anything anymore…
” My voice cracks, but I can’t stop. “I let myself be used. I let men touch me, let strangers think I was worth nothing because it was easier than feeling as if I’d lost everything.
I spent years fucking random guys trying to forget what it felt like to lose you, lose her, lose myself.
Do you have any idea what that does to a person?
How it hollowed me out until there was nothing left? ”
My chest heaves, and I force myself to meet his gaze, daring him to flinch. “I’ve fucked so many guys I lost track, and you want that? You want me?” A sob breaks loose while shame crashes over me. “You still think I’m worth it?”
Ace’s expression doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t wince.
His jaw tightens, but there’s no judgment in his eyes, only unflinching certainty.
“I don’t think. I know,” he reassures me.
Then, with a faint, crooked smirk, he adds, “And don’t worry about it.
You caused me so much emotional turmoil that my soul feels like it got fucked sideways too. ”
I blink at him, startled by the bluntness, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
His dark-fucking-humor.
A watery laugh bubbles out of me, helpless and a little unhinged, and the tension breaks like a dam.
He watches me with a smile, waiting until my laughter fades before reaching out again and cupping my cheek. “Wanna be mine, Trouble? Because damn, I’m still yours.”
Tears prick my vision, and I blink hard, trying to clear them. “I’m still yours too. But…” I swallow hard. “I’m also Sylus’s, and Koen’s, and—”
“Nicholas’s, I know.” Ace pulls me a little closer. “I talked with Sylus and Koen about it earlier when you were asleep.”
“You did?”
Ace nods. “And honestly, I think it’s a good thing.
That you have all of us. That we’re all in this for you.
” I blink at him, stunned. “It’ll never be the way it once was, Nova.
I can never be the same. I bet you can’t either.
And I don’t want it to be. I spent eight years longing for the past, for what we had, and it nearly broke me.
But now? I long for the days ahead and a future I never thought I’d have with you…
” He pauses to let his thumb stroke over my cheek.
“If that future includes the people who pulled me out of the hole I was left in after losing you, the people who pulled you out of yours when I couldn’t, I think it sounds like they belong here with us. ”
“You do?” My voice cracks, and I sniff, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over.
“Oscar used to say the people meant to be in your life would find their way there, no matter how improbable it seemed.” His lips quirk into a faint smile. “And honestly, this? You, me, them, fucking Jinx…” he motions to the house, “… it’s so improbable, it has to be fate.”
Ace brushes away a tear that slipped down my cheek without me noticing. His hand lingers for a moment, his touch impossibly tender as he leans in, his gaze dropping to my lips and his voice lowering to a whisper. “Or magic.” He pulls back to meet my eyes. “You mine, Trouble?”
I don’t hesitate this time. “I’m yours.”
“Then stay still for me,” he murmurs, his breath brushing against my skin as he leans closer.
When his lips meet mine, it’s barely a kiss. It’s a soft, fleeting touch, more shared breath than contact. But it’s enough to make my entire body react, to make my pulse thunder in my ears as butterflies swarm in my stomach.
I hear my sixteen-year-old self screaming with joy and have to hold back a sob, overwhelmed with everything I’m feeling.
Ace pulls back so his forehead almost touches mine, his hand still cupping my cheek. His eyes remain closed for a moment as if savoring the connection.
And in that stillness, I know—I’m home.
We stay like that for what feels like forever, our breaths mingling in the quiet. My pulse still thrums from the kiss when Ace lets the tip of his nose glide over mine before reluctantly pulling away.
“Come on. We’ve got to make sure you look cool while handing out decks of cards.”
I let out a laugh, wiping the corner of my eye where another stray tear threatens to spill. “Cool? On these?” I gesture to the skates, wobbling dramatically for emphasis. “You’re aiming a little high, don’t you think?”
His lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through. “You underestimate yourself.”
“Or maybe I have a healthy fear of falling on my ass.”
“Hey, at least I don’t make you do parkour.”
“Ha-ha.”
Ace and I wobble onto the driveway, though the contrast couldn’t be more glaring. He glides effortlessly as if he’s done this a thousand times while I teeter and clutch his hand like it’s a lifeline.
I can almost hear Rosalee in the back of my mind, mocking both of us in that way only she could. “Honestly, watching paint dry would’ve been less painful than this.”