Ace laughed. “Yeah, I’ve always been a stubborn son of a bitch.”
His dad shook his head the tiniest amount. “No… me. Proud of… you. Son.”
Tears spilled over, trailing down Ace’s face. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll do my best to keep making you proud.”
The old man nodded almost imperceptibly and closed his eyes. I found myself holding my breath, waiting for him to open them again. It seems like hours passed as we sat there, Ace telling his sleeping father story after story of his adventures. I found myself laughing at some of the things he’d done, rolling my eyes at others.
“I don’t think he’s going to wake up again,” he said to me after a while.
I nodded. I didn’t think he would either.
Ace stood up and leaned over to kiss his dad’s forehead again. Then he took my hand and led me to the door.
“Ace?”
We stopped and turned back to the bed. “Yeah, Dad?”
“Don’t… fuck… up.”
***
We ended up staying another hour, waiting to see if his dad would wake up again, but he didn’t.
“I’m kinda glad,” Ace said, “You have to admit, that was a pretty good parting shot.”
Tension built in my shoulders as we stepped out of the room and headed back downstairs where his brother and sister were waiting.
“You can have your old room, Ace,” Eve said and glared at me. “But not her. Mom wouldn’t like you fucking your whores in her house.”
Ace stiffened beside me and I laid a hand on his arm and whispered, “Don’t.”
“No worries. We’ve made other accommodations,” he told her.
Eve scoffed. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”
Brady jumped in on the attack on Ace. “Yeah. Let him go. He’s too much of a big shot to stay here in this crap house with his loser family.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving right this minute,” Ace said calmly. “I thought we’d have dinner, sit and share stories about mom and dad, each other. But, I think we will go now. Thanks for the grand welcome. At least now you see why I don’t come home.”
Ace tugged on my hand, squeezing like it was a stress ball as we exited the house.
“Dad always idolized you, and you wouldn’t give him the time of day. You’re a piece of shit son, Ace,” Brady yelled out the front door.
Ace turned. “You know what, Brady? You sound just like dad. Idolized me? Yeah, suck my dick. Nothing I ever did was good enough for that old man up there, and I guess I just gave up trying. So why don’t you go home to the house I pay for, driving that truck that… oh yeah, I paid for.”
Brady opened his mouth but ended up just sputtering and waving his hands.
“That’s what I thought,” Ace said. “Glad to know I’m good enough for you to cash my check.”
Ace opened my door and helped me inside before getting behind the wheel. The car roared to life, and in seconds, we were flying up the road.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. They were in the wrong,” I assured him.
His smile was weak and worn, but it was the most sincere smile I’d ever seen from Ace Newman. My heart strings were being tugged by this adventure. That short glimpse into the lifetime of pain he’d endured was enlightening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Holly
We pulled into the parking lot of a nice chain hotel that fit into the quaint atmosphere of the town. Ace got out of the car and walked to my side, opening the door and letting me out. “Sorry it’s not the Ritz,” he said with a smirk.
There was my cocky bad boy.
He walked into the office and came out a little while later, two keys in his hands. “I got us separate rooms.”
A part of me wished he hadn’t.
Ace carried our bags inside and to our adjoining rooms. It looked like Laura Ashley had thrown up inside. It was all florals and pastels, but clean.
“It’s home sweet home, for now.” He smiled and suddenly the room was perfect.
He set my bag down on the king size bed, then just stood there looking excruciatingly uneasy. He ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. It was adorable to see Ace Newman unsure of himself.
“I’ll be right next door,” he finally muttered and closed the door softly. I heard the rattle of the door and a thump of the suitcase in the next room, and sank to the bed, wishing things could be different.
I’d just closed my eyes when there was a tap on my door. “Can I help you?” I asked playfully when I opened it to find him standing there.
“Did you order room service?” he asked, his smirk back in place. “Or possibly, a turndown service.”
My nipples tightened beneath my thin t-shirt, and he noticed the reaction immediately. He licked his lips and met my eyes again. “Want to go get dinner?”
“Yes. I’m starved.”
“You’re always starved.” He laughed and held out his hand.
He wasn’t wrong. I was always hungry, and more lately than ever before. Whitney told me I was eating my emotions. Calvin said I was eating to shovel out the sexual tension that I had buried deep inside. Whitney slapped him when he made his observation, but I couldn’t say he was wrong. Ever since I broke things off with Ace, I ate. Threw up. Ate. Threw up. Ate. It was a vicious cycle. And damn, I could eat an entire pig right now. Maybe I really did have an ulcer.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asked.
“Pork,” I answered way too quickly and with more enthusiasm than was needed for the protein.
His eyes lit up. “Really? Do you have a preference in the package in which this pork is to be delivered to your mouth?”
“Nope.” I licked my lips, thoughts of BBQ swirling in my head.
Apparently, he was thinking of something else because he adjusted his jeans. “This is getting me hot.”
“Easy boy, is there a barbecue joint in this town?”
“Of course,” he pointed across the street to an orange and red brick building.
“Perfect. The less time I have to travel to get food, the more time I can spend enjoying it.” I laughed.
I licked my suddenly dry lips again, noticing him watching the progression of my tongue. “Are you ready?” I asked and turned away to grab my bag and jacket.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled, the sound so sexy coming from his throat. “You have no idea how ready I am right now.”
“Good. Let’s go eat.” I gripped his hand, grabbed the key from my table and led him down the hall to the exit.
The smell of smoked pork wafted across the street and under my nose as we waited to cross the street.
Inside, a waitress named Sue took our drink orders. Ace ordered a beer, nothing more, just a beer. I was impressed. “Sprite please.” I smiled politely at the weathered and exhausted looking older woman.
“No alcohol for you?” he asked.
“It’s been messing up my stomach. The last few times I’ve drank, I end up sick.”
He looked concerned. “Have you seen a doctor?”
I blushed. “No. I don’t have insurance right now, so I’m just grinning and bearing it.”
His hand moved to my cheek. “Holly, go see a doctor. I’ll pay for it.”