Chapter 5 #2
“You wouldn’t be. Pushing yourself on me. I guess… I just assumed you’d have other things to do. Now that you know I’m fine, I mean. Since that’s why you came early. You could go out in Seattle, maybe visit with your friend, Leif…”
Trailing off, I belatedly wonder why I’m trying to convince Ace to leave. Why, when I slept better last night than I have in weeks? Why, when having him here makes me feel more right than I have in ages?
Because he makes you want things you have no business wanting, that obnoxious, knowing voice in my head whispers.
Because you know if he stays, it’s only a matter of time before you tell him just how bad things have gotten since Tacoma, and then he’ll know you’re a basket case instead of just suspecting.
Ace stares at me for a long moment. “I’ll head out right after breakfast. It’s not a problem. I’ll find a hotel, then maybe head to Mount Rainier for a hike or something.”
Disappointment crashes into me. Which is stupid, because he offered to stay and here I am, basically pushing him to leave.
Why? I ask myself again. Do I really want to spend another weekend on my own? Puttering around my empty house, which will feel even emptier once Ace is gone?
“No,” I blurt, louder than intended. Flushing, I continue in a more even tone, “You’re already here. It would be silly to leave. And I don’t have plans, aside from working in the garage all weekend.”
The eggs start to sizzle, drawing our attention to them. Ace mutters a low curse. He gives them another quick stir, then takes the pan off the burner and sets it to the side.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure.” And now that I’ve said it, I am. “And maybe you could help me? In the workshop? Since I hurt my hand, there are some things I won’t be able to do as well.”
Surprise jolts his features. “You want me to help with your project?”
“If you want.”
A slow smile lifts Ace’s lips. “I’d be happy to help, Tink. But do you trust me with your high-tech inventions?”
“Well,” I reply. “You do restore vintage cars, so I know you’re good with tools. And you can disable bombs. So I’d say that makes you more than qualified to be my assistant.”
As I allow myself to think about the reality of an entire weekend with Ace, warmth expands inside me.
It would be nice to have company in my workshop instead of spending hours in there alone.
We could cook dinner together. Maybe watch one of those movies with lots of cars, like Ace always talks about.
And tomorrow, we could see if there’s a car museum that’s open. I bet Ace would like that.
Ace turns his hand over, reminding me I’m still touching it. His fingers briefly curl around mine. “I’d be honored to be your assistant, Yara.” His expression brightens. “Does that mean I finally get to find out what this mystery project is?”
I’m so distracted by the feel of his big hand engulfing mine, it takes a few seconds for his question to register. “Mystery—oh, yes. I guess it’ll be hard to keep it a secret when you’re helping me with it.” With a smile, I add, “But you’re sworn to secrecy. I mean it. You can’t tell anyone.”
Ace nods. “I promise.” He mimes zipping his lips. “You can trust me.”
“I know.” I give his hand a quick squeeze. “I do.”
And that’s why, once he’s turned his attention back to preparing breakfast, I make the decision to confess to something that’s been bothering me ever since that night in Tacoma. But I wait until Ace’s attention is on the pancakes he’s making, so I don’t have to feel his eyes on me as I say it.
Just as he’s carefully pouring the batter onto the griddle—regular pancakes this time, rather than the doomed chocolate chip ones of a year ago—I say, “I’m just so pissed at myself. With everything that happened at the fundraiser. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Ace stills for a second. His gaze jumps to mine, and then, just as quickly, returns to the pancakes. “Why?”
My heart thuds hard. “Because.” I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Two reasons, really.”
He keeps his focus on the griddle. But it’s clear he’s paying close attention. “Okay?”
“First? I should have known better.”
“What do you mean, known better?”
“Known better than to go off on an op alone. I would never have done that before. Even if I had to do it solo, my team would have been right there with me. But in Tacoma, I was so determined to do it on my own, I ignored what I was trained to do.”
“Well,” Ace replies carefully, “you did tell me. And I told my team. So you weren’t completely alone.”
“True. But I didn’t tell you everything. I could have. I could have asked you to meet me in the hallway to discuss it. We could have worked together. But, no. I got it into my head that I was going to take him down by myself.”
Ace finishes pouring the batter and sets the bowl to the side. Then he looks at me with a somber gaze. “I could lie and say you did the right thing. But I don’t think you want me to lie, do you?”
My chest squeezes. “No. Never.”
“Then I’ll say this. I think you had a good plan, except for the part where you didn’t tell me right away. But.” He frowns. Sighs. “I messed up, too. I should have—”
“I didn’t tell you, though. I asked you to wait.”
He shakes his head. “But I had a bad feeling from the start. My gut—”
“Ace.” I firm my voice. “What happened was in no way your fault. Not in the least. I decided to go with that asshole by myself. Because I got it in my head that I needed to prove I could still run an op. That I was capable enough to take a predator down.”
“Why—”
“Because I wanted to feel strong again.”
“Yara.”
“It’s dumb,” I admit. “I chose civilian life. So I have no right to complain. But sometimes I feel like something’s missing.
Like I’m missing something. And then… there I was.
Sitting next to this guy who was going to drug me.
Take advantage of me. And my adrenaline started pumping again. I had that feeling, you know?”
Ace glances at the pancakes, which are starting to brown around the edges. As he flips them, he says, “Yes. I do know.”
“So I acted. Impulsively. I’m not sorry I did, but I regret how I did it. And… I really hate how it turned out.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that. Rationally, at least. But it doesn’t change the fact that I lost control.”
“You didn’t,” he replies.
“I did. I got triggered by a stupid serving tray falling and ended up making a complete fool of myself. And I know you said it wasn’t my fault.
That it’s normal. But it doesn’t feel normal.
It makes me feel weak. That’s why I’ve been off ever since.
Because I can’t stop thinking about how I used to be this strong, Special Forces soldier.
And now I’m having panic attacks over broken dishes and running away from invisible enemies in empty parking lots. It makes me feel weak and I hate it.”
By the time I finish, my face is hot and my heart is racing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lay all that on you. Forget I said anything.”
The silence that follows feels eternal.
Just as I’m about to search for a hole to jump into, Ace shuts the stove off and moves the griddle off the heated burners. Then he walks around the counter to come to my side.
With me sitting and him standing, he looks even taller than usual.
Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet his.
Instead of the pity I’m expecting, empathy softens his gaze.
Without warning, he bends down and wraps his arms around me.
My breath catches.
My racing heart stumbles.
Inexplicably, tears burn behind my eyes.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean against him, resting my head on his chest.
Closing my eyes, I let myself absorb the sensations of Ace’s body so close to mine.
I breathe in his scent. I listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. I memorize the feel of his arms wrapped around me.
Though I know it’s meant to comfort, being held by Ace feels more right than anything I can remember.
“You’re not weak, Tink,” he says softly, his breath brushing my hair. “You’re the furthest thing from it.”
“I feel like it,” I mumble into his shirt.
“You’re not,” he replies firmly. “You said you never wanted me to lie. And I’m not.”
“Ace.”
He draws back to look at me. “Yara. You’re not. And I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it. Okay?”
As I meet his earnest gaze, hope fizzes to life again.
So I sit up straight, lift my chin, and give him a small smile. “Okay.” Then I glance at the half-cooked pancakes and shake my head. “Not sure they’re fixable.”
Ace chuckles. “We can’t tell Indy we messed up the pancakes, too. He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Feeling lighter than I have in weeks, I slide off the stool, grab Ace’s hand, and tow him around to the other side of the counter. “We’ll just make them again, that’s all. And this time, I won’t distract you halfway through.”
“Sounds good,” he replies. Then he grins. “After all, if I’m going to be your assistant for the day, I need plenty of energy.”
“True,” I agree. “And trust me,” I add with a teasing smile, “I plan on putting you to work.”
Ace grins at me. “I can’t wait.”