Chapter 17
17
ACE
The one with the sad beginnings don’t always mean happy endings.
" T hey’re staring at me,” said Ivan on my left. “Look.” He was pointing at a few dozen of the saints that were etched out of pure marble just watching us from the ceiling waiting for us to burn in hell. At least that’s what it felt like.
I hadn’t seen Raven since her birthday.
I'd been in and out from the pain meds and finally told Sergio, our resident doctor, that if he gave me any more morphine I was going to ketamine his ass and make him watch me, paralyzed, while I carved my initials in his thigh powerless to stop me.
It got a bit more graphic but it worked. He said I was the worst patient he’d ever had—and he’d treated Phoenix—and let me heal back on campus, which meant no Raven.
She’d deserved one last day with her family.
Both she and her dad shared the same birthday weekend.
When she came home later that night, I heard her stumble into bed and then Ivan’s footsteps.
He’d taken over as bodyguard for the night.
And now it was time to get married.
Anxiety was a crushing evil bitch, weighing down my head in so many unnecessary ways as I stared at myself in the gaudy gold mirror they had in the groom’s room—the temporary groom’s room that doubled as a prayer room during the day.
I bet they’d have to sanctify the damn place once I left.
In fact I’d strongly suggest it.
Did Raven remember our conversation?
I briefly recalled the waffle story—hating myself for being so vulnerable and weak with her. I knew it made it that much easier to get hurt. I would protect her, but who the hell was going to protect me?
I was extremely good at lying to myself about the whole situation. How could a person you don’t even love possibly hurt you?
But every time I asked that question and got more worried about getting hurt the more I realized I’d never lost the feelings I had for her—if anything, they’d just shifted into something more terrifying that I’d ignored for so long that now it was impossible to hide the monster in the closet or under the bed anymore.
Fuck, I’d spent years feeding it and now it needed more.
The kiss hadn’t helped anyone but the monster.
And her lips tasted like sugar.
“Hey!” Ivan nudged me. “Did the mirror personally offend you? Any longer and I’d think you were going to try to carve an Ace sized outline in the glass with laser beams.”
I shook my head. The church still smelled like loss somehow, that and the fresh flowers we’d purchased in order to somehow cover up what had already taken place a week ago—Louis’ funeral. “Sorry, lost in my thoughts.”
There was no way Raven was handling this well. Six days ago she was walking down the aisle to give a eulogy. Today, she’d be walking down the aisle to say yes to a man she didn’t love while being tortured by the dead soul of the one she couldn’t be with.
I refused to fight a ghost.
Just like I refused to be jealous of one. A soft knock sounded at the door.
Ivan swiftly moved toward it. I smelled her before I saw her. “She can come in.”
Ivan moved away and clicked the door softly behind him. I gave myself a few seconds before lifting my head—knowing full well that just seeing her in her wedding dress would steal the breath from my body. I thought I was prepared.
I wasn’t.
Her off-white dress was form fitting all the way down to the ground. It was strapless with an overlay of black lace that reached just below her breasts before wrapping around her back and joining down the train toward a pool in the floor.
She held a blood red bouquet.
I wondered if it was symbolic or if she really did just love roses.
It felt like blood was staring back at me, blood I’d spilled, blood I’d given to her, and more blood I would be taking.
Hers, his.
I hated him in that moment, hated him for leaving her.
For being selfless enough to save her.
For being someone I couldn’t fight with even if I wanted to steal her.
It would be an impossible war for the rest of my life—one I would never win—and I allowed myself the resentment in that moment, even though I deserved less than what I was actually getting.
Raven Alfero had always been my nightmare.
Right now she looked better than my dreams.
Her long hair was swept away from her face in large curls, her makeup was light, her lips a pale pink.
“Hi.”
I almost laughed. “That’s not a lot of words for someone who normally stores them to use as weapons later.”
Her smile was slow, deliberate. “Maybe it was a test.”
"Did I pass?”
She gently set her flowers down on the nearby black leather chair. “I bet it’s killing you not to know.”
She wasn’t wrong. “What can I help you with?”
"Is there another way?” she asked. “Out of this? And if there was, would you take it?”
I leaned against the table and crossed my arms. “His family went into deep hiding, if they showed their faces they’d be killed on the spot—and you’re carrying his child. What do you think would happen if his family knew or if yours did? They’d want an immediate alliance and your dad would be honor bound to keep it depending on whatever terms they had with us?—“
“Terms,” She stated flatly. “What do you mean terms?”
Shit. “The same as mine I’d expect. As a body guard if we touch you or go back on our word then we owe you a pound of flesh, a body, a soul, you name it. I don’t know what his contract said, but I’m assuming it took into account pregnancy.”
"Would I get sent away?”
“I highly doubt your dad would allow it.”
“So it would start a conflict?”
“Most likely.”
“So there isn’t a way out?”
"Am I so bad?
"You’re beautiful to look at and terrifying to talk to on even your best day when you cash out all your words, Ace.” Her eyelashes fluttered closed for a moment, then she lifted them and gazed at me, a half-hearted smile teasing her lips. “You’re a killer, impossible to read half the time, and you look like you’d rather be tortured than seduced.”
I flinched.
“Sorry.” She crossed her arms. “That was harsh.”
“Truth is rarely pretty.” It stung, though. It stung because I’d told her about the waffles when my guard was down with my physical pain.
She’d sat next to me.
She’d touched me.
I’d allowed it for one brief second.
To put down the shield, the pain, to wonder about the road that led to her and if it could be more than a signature on a piece of paper.
I wondered about a soul exchange.
And now I was struggling to put the shield back, to build the castle I’d allowed to get slightly destroyed by her easy smiles and weaponized words.
"I’m sorry,” I finally said. “That I’m not what you wanted.”
It was all I could say.
“It’s not your fault.”
I wasn’t sure I could actually feel worse, and I was trying like hell to find the hatred and annoyance again but when you’re both in physical and emotional pain it’s fucking harder than attempting to collect water with your hands.
"Ace?”
"Yeah?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t have breakfast with you.”
I knew what she meant.
The knife inched into my chest just a bit further and twisted to the right, the left. “I’m fasting anyway.”
"Good.” A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away. “That’s good.”
No. It was lonely.
It was terrible.
It was my future. “Right,” I nodded toward the door. “You should go but before you do I want you to do me a favor.”
"What?”
“Don’t look so worried.” I forced a smile that felt brittle and full of a choking loss I hadn’t even begun to realize yet. “When you walk down your aisle, my gift to you is this. Close your eyes. When you take those steps imagine him at the end of the aisle, not me. When you’re told to say your vows think of his voice, when you’re angry you can say you wish it was him, and in the end, when I kiss you, believe the lie that it is. Don’t believe in the sweet nightmare that we have—cling to the beloved dream.” I choked the last part out. “It’s okay—to cling to him instead of me.”
The final words burned when they fell from my lips.
And I felt it—in the moment.
The shield creaked back into place.
The walls were once again erected.
The pain she’d caused was nothing more than a few scars against the brick.
Feelings were for the weak.
My only job was to stand by her side.
And live the nightmare so she could live her dream.