Chapter 14
Tessa
The flower shop stayed quiet long after the video ended.
Morning light crept slowly across the floorboards, catching scattered petals near the counter. Somewhere in the back, the cooler hummed steadily.
I sat on the floor with my back against the cabinet, Ace beside me, the phone loose in my hand.
The screen had gone dark minutes ago.
But the footage kept replaying behind my eyes anyway.
Headlights.
Impact.
Metal twisting.
Passenger seat.
My throat tightened.
“I wasn’t driving. Finally I have proof.”
The whisper barely made it out.
I stared down at the blank screen like it might disappear if I looked away too long.
Six years.
Six years of prison walls and whispered accusations and wondering if maybe the world saw something monstrous in me that I couldn’t see myself.
Another shaky breath slipped out.
“I knew I wasn’t,” I whispered again.
And somehow that hurt worse now.
Because knowing the truth meant realizing exactly how much had been stolen from me.
The courtroom flashed through my head.
The judge reading my sentence.
My mother refusing to meet my eyes.
The silence afterward.
God, the silence.
Tears slid quietly down my cheeks.
Not violent this time.
Not breaking apart.
Just heavy.
Like something buried deep inside me had finally gotten too tired to keep holding itself together.
Beside me, Ace stayed still.
Didn’t crowd me.
Didn’t fill the silence just to make it less uncomfortable.
He just sat there close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him.
Steady.
Grounding.
And for the first time since meeting him—
that didn’t scare me.
I tipped my head back against the cabinet and stared at the ceiling.
“I don’t know what happens now.”
My voice sounded small in the quiet shop.
Ace glanced over at me. “Nothing has to happen today.”
A weak laugh escaped me.
“You make that sound simple.”
“It’s not simple.” His jaw tightened slightly. “But you don’t have to survive the next ten years tonight either.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“I should’ve fought harder.”
“No.”
The answer came fast enough to make me look at him.
“I should’ve told them everything,” I whispered. “I should’ve made them listen.”
“You were nineteen,” he said quietly. “And your best friend was dying.”
Emotion climbed hard into my throat again.
“That promise cost me everything.”
Ace didn’t soften the truth.
Didn’t lie.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “It did.”
The honesty of it cracked something open inside me all over again.
Because he wasn’t trying to fix the pain.
He was just sitting in it with me.
“I thought if I stopped fighting…” My voice trailed off. “Maybe it would hurt less.”
Ace leaned his forearms against his knees, staring out toward the front windows.
“Did it?”
A humorless breath slipped out of me.
“No.”
Silence settled again.
But this silence felt different.
Not empty.
Safe.
I turned my head slightly and looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the exhaustion shadowing his face.
At the stubborn set of his jaw.
At the way he kept glancing toward me like he was making sure I was still breathing.
“Why didn’t you leave?” I asked quietly.
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Back at the tavern.” My fingers traced the edge of the phone absently. “After everything.”
Ace looked almost confused by the question.
“Because you needed somebody.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“That’s not usually enough to make people stay.”
“It is for me.”
I searched his face carefully.
Waiting.
For doubt.
For hesitation.
For the moment his expression shifted into pity or suspicion or regret.
It never came.
And somehow that terrified me almost as much as it comforted me.
“You trusted me over all of that?” I asked softly.
“I trusted my gut.”
“And?”
A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth.
“My gut likes you.”
I huffed out the smallest laugh.
It surprised both of us.
Ace’s expression softened slightly at the sound.
“You don’t even know me,” I murmured.
“I know you carried something that never belonged to you.” His eyes locked on mine. “And I know you did it because you loved somebody.”
My throat burned.
No one had ever called it love before.
Only stupidity.
Weakness.
Guilt.
I looked down at the phone again.
At the frozen truth sitting in my lap.
“I don’t know how to be this person,” I admitted quietly. “The one who gets to say she’s innocent.”
Ace stayed quiet for a second.
Then—
“You don’t have to become somebody new, Tessa.” His voice lowered. “You just get to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”
The words settled deep.
Painfully deep.
Because part of me wanted to believe them.
Wanted it so badly it hurt.
I slowly set the phone down beside me on the floor.
Not clutching it anymore.
Not holding onto it like it might vanish.
And somehow that felt important.
“I meant what I said before,” I whispered.
“About what?”
“You staying away.” I looked over at him tiredly. “You probably should.”
Ace shook his head immediately.
“Not happening.”
A tiny smile tugged weakly at my mouth before I could stop it.
“There’s that stubbornness again.”
“You like it.”
“I absolutely do not.”
His grin finally appeared then.
Small.
Real.
And God help me—
it made something warm unfold quietly in my chest.
I closed my eyes briefly, exhaustion crashing into me all at once.
Everything still hurt.
But not the same way anymore.
This ache felt lighter somehow.
When I opened my eyes again, Ace was still there.
Still watching me like leaving had never been an option.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
His expression softened immediately.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do.”
A pause settled between us.
Then quietly—
carefully—
“I believe you.”
My breath caught.
But this time the words didn’t cut through me.
They settled.
Warm.
Steady.
Real.
And sitting there on the floor beside him while morning light filled the flower shop—
for the first time in years—
I didn’t feel alone.