Page 128 of The Wreckage Of Us


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Sylvia smiled faintly, her eyes misty. “Then you need to fight for her. But not like this.”

I swallowed hard, throat burning. “I don’t know how to fight anymore. She’s shutting every door.”

“Then stop knocking on the door,” Sylvia said gently. “Start planting something at her window.”

I blinked, confused.

She smiled a little. “Show her you’re here without demanding anything. Be present without pushing. Let her see you’re not leaving. That’s how you earn her trust back.”

I closed my eyes, shoulders shaking with another quiet, helpless sob. “I’m so scared it’s too late, Sylvia. She’s twenty-eight, and she looks… God, she looks so beautiful and grown and untouchable. And I’m— I’m thirty-five, falling apart like a damn teenager.”

Sylvia reached out and squeezed my hand. “You’re still her Ace. Somewhere inside, she still remembers. But you have to show her the man you are now—not the man you were.”

We sat in silence, the street noise around us blurring into a background hum.

Finally, Sylvia gave my shoulder a nudge. “Come on. Let’s get you off this sidewalk. People are starting to whisper.”

I let her pull me to my feet, swaying slightly. I must’ve looked wrecked—my face blotchy, eyes swollen, shirt half untucked.

We walked slowly, aimlessly.

“Do you want me to talk to her again?” Sylvia asked cautiously.

I shook my head. “No. No more middlemen. If I want to show her I’ve changed, I have to stop using other people to reach her. I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

Sylvia smiled softly. “Good. That’s good, Ace.”

But inside, I felt like I was drowning.

Every night without Brittany felt like a lifetime. Every morning without hearing her voice was a fresh punishment. Every laugh I heard on the street that wasn’t hers twisted the knife deeper.

I went home that night, but it wasn’t home. It was four walls and a roof and a bed that mocked me with its emptiness.

I walked past the photos of Jasper and Corrine, past the boxes I still hadn’t unpacked, and collapsed on the floor of the living room, burying my face in my arms.

“Please,” I whispered into the dark. “Please, Brittany… just give me one more chance. I am sorry for being a monster in your life...ill spend the rest of my years rectifying that if you'll only let me.”

Chapter 51

Brittany

I sat curled up on the couch, knees pulled tightly to my chest, the late afternoon light casting golden streaks across the floor. My arms were wrapped around myself, but they couldn’t stop the ache in my chest or the tremble in my fingers. I stared at the wall, eyes burning, heart thudding like it was trying to punch its way out of my ribs.

Ace’s voice still rang in my ears. His truth. His child. Karla.

How do you even begin to process that?

The room was quiet except for the faint ticking of the clock. My phone buzzed again on the table, but I didn’t reach for it. I couldn’t. Not when every nerve in my body felt raw and exposed.

A gentle knock came at the door.

“Brittany?” Sylvia’s voice floated through, soft and hesitant. “Can I come in?”

I didn’t answer — couldn’t. But the door clicked open anyway. Sylvia slipped inside, careful as always, like she was stepping into a room full of shattered glass.

She crossed the room and sat beside me, close enough that I felt the warmth of her but not so close that I felt crowded. She didn’t speak at first, just sat there. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

Finally, I whispered, “I don’t want to talk.”