When his tongue stroked mine, I nearly flinched, expecting the same treatment as before. But it was different this time. Better.
The music faded in the background, and the world disappeared for a moment as our tongues intertwined, and our bodies swayed back and forth, pressed tightly together.
I hadn’t realized the song ended when we pulled apart. My eyes opened to find his upon me, that look so familiar. That’s how Calvin looked at Whitney. I melted.
We sat back down at the table, finished our drinks, and listened to a few more songs. Our hands stayed clasped together, our knees touched, and I could feel the security this man could offer me. He oozed love, sincerity, and loyalty, three things I didn’t think Ace Newman would ever possess.
“I’m supposed to visit Ace in Florida.” I blurted out, needing to be honest, but hating for the awkwardness to begin.
He was quiet, calm, but didn’t show any emotion I could read. Where was the anger, the jealousy, the rage?
“I understand,” he said simply.
“I just don’t want you to be hurt. You’ll probably be there when I arrive, so it’s not like I could’ve hidden it even if I wanted to,” I explained.
“Did you want to?” he asked.
Hell, yes I wanted to. “Of course not,” I fibbed.
“I appreciate you telling me. So, you do still see Ace?”
“I haven’t. Not in months. He just asked me to visit him the other day. I said yes because…” I struggled to finish that sentence.
“I get it. You two have a history. I didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”
I watched the disappointment flash across his face. I felt like an asshole.
“I know Ace isn’t the kind of guy a girl ends up with,” I admitted, and to my horror, felt tears starting to work up in my eyes. I took a deep breath and held myself together before continuing. “I don’t know where things are going with us. I’d say we are close to our end. But, I have to see him again to make sure. I just don’t want you blindsided by any of this.”
His smile was surprisingly warm, and he squeezed my hand gently in his. “You’re an amazing woman, Holly. You deserve what makes you happy.”
Wow. Why couldn’t happy be with this man?
I knew Whitney would tell me I was self-sabotaging when I filled her in on my conversation with Jack. Maybe she was right. That could’ve been my motive. But, it was clear that Jack wasn’t an ordinary man and self-sabotaging wasn’t going to work.
“Thank you.” I smiled and gave his hand a squeeze back.
Jack drove me back to Whitney’s, his demeanor not altered from when he first picked me up. He squeezed my hand, sang out of tune to me along with the radio, and turned the heat up so hot in the car I forgot it was winter outside.
I hadn’t expected a goodnight kiss after I told him about Ace, but I was wrong. He gripped me tightly in front of Whitney’s door and planted one firmly on my lips. I was cold. My mind was filled with confusion and guilt, so the kiss fell flat, feeling more like the first one instead of the last.
“Thank you for a great night,” I told him as I opened the door to let myself inside. I didn’t want to tell him about the guest house, fearful that he’d want to come in, and possibly stay.
“How was your date?” Whitney pounced me as soon as the door closed.
I blushed.
“That good?”
I told her everything, and she reacted as I expected. “I can’t believe you still want to visit Ace.”
There was more to Ace Newman than met the eye. We had so many nights where I felt like so much more than just a bed warmer, a friend, a fuck buddy. If there was any chance that he could change, any chance at all. I needed to know.
And if not, I wanted to say goodbye.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ace
Daytona was proving to be a drag. The bars were dead, or hell, maybe it was me. When a few good prospects came my way, I just couldn’t muster any interest. Even the drinks weren’t giving me the peace of mind I needed.
On the field, the sun was wearing me down quickly. My body hadn’t yet acclimated to the Florida heat, even though I’d been in Hawaii not that long ago. I wasn’t ready to admit it was the late nights and the drinking, and certainly wasn’t ready to admit I spent one evening flirting with the middle-aged bartender with a mole on her cheek the size of a peanut and frizzy hair that looked unwashed. I was losing my edge, and I didn’t like it at all.
Except when I held a bat in my hand. Then, I was still a god.
I was offering up some pretty tight swings for Luke. He couldn’t seem to find the zone to strike me out. “Give the kid a chance, Newman!” Coach screamed. Seriously? He was yelling at me because I was beating the shit out of a ball?
“You think the other players are gonna give him a chance?” I snarled and spit onto the plate. “He has to earn it, just like the rest of us.”
Calvin jogged to the mound and whispered something in Luke’s ear. I watched Luke grin, his eyes looking at me with new excitement. Calvin walked away, Luke wound up his pitch. I swung… and fucking missed.
Calvin, that dick.
“You need to let him figure out how to read the batters on his own, Daddy,” I taunted Calvin in the dugout.
He shook his head, smiled, and flipped me off.
The rest of the team had arrived several days ago, so my shoulder got a break from the excessive swinging at Luke’s wild pitches. Our first exhibition game was coming up, against the Yankees of all teams. It was going to be a home game; one played in the newly built stadium just a short drive from the beach. After our first game, we would be travelling to Fort Myers, a great place for finding sexy spring breakers. My balls were about to explode. That chick behind the bar at the hotel was looking better and better each night.
I showered quickly at the stadium, didn’t wait around for anyone to catch up with me, and headed back to the hotel in a cab waiting outside. I wanted to be left alone.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and stared at the screen. It was Eve, my sister. Hell, I never did listen to the voice mail she left, better not ignore her again.
“Hey, Eve.”
“It’s about time you answered your fucking phone. Did you get my message?”
And she wonders why I don’t answer.
“Always a pleasure, Eve. What can I do for you?” I asked in my annoying little brother voice she hated so badly.
“Ace, it’s Dad.” Her voice softened from its usual bitchy tone.
Nausea rose in my throat. That man was not a dad. He was a tyrant who beat me down as a child and tried every chance he got as a man. No matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough. Never.
The long pause made me ready myself for the news of his death. I listened to my sister clear her throat and knew she was crying. Oh shit, the old man’s dead.
“Can you come home?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
“When’s the funeral?” I asked.
“Ace. He’s not dead, but he’s dying.”