“Thank you,” I choked out. “Thank you, Britt.”
We stayed like that, kneeling on the floor, both of us shaking, both of us broken. But in that moment — just that small, trembling moment — I felt the tiniest crack of light push through the darkness.
And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.
Chapter 53
Ace
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the shrill sound slicing through the early morning quiet of my apartment.
I groaned, rolling over, expecting some work email or another meaningless notification. But when I blinked at the screen, my breath hitched.
Brittany.
My heart jolted so hard it nearly burst out of my chest. For a second, I just stared at her name, my thumb hovering over the green button like I was afraid the call might vanish.
Then, without thinking, I swiped to answer.
“Britt?” My voice was rough with sleep, but the second her soft voice came through, every nerve in my body snapped awake.
“Hi, Ace…” she murmured, almost shy, like she wasn’t sure if she should’ve called.
“Hey, hey,” I sat up quickly, running a hand through my hair. “Everything okay?”
There was a pause on the other end, the sound of her shaky breath filling the line. “Um… I need your help.”
My pulse roared in my ears. “Anything,” I blurted. “Name it.”
She let out a small, nervous laugh. “It’s… stupid, probably. I’ve been trying to fix the cabinet under the sink all morning — it’sleaking everywhere, and I can’t get the pipe to tighten. And the plumber can’t come till tomorrow, and I—”
“Say no more,” I cut in, already swinging my legs off the bed. “I’m on my way.”
She hesitated. “Ace, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I said softly. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”
A tiny breath. “Okay.”
By the time she hung up, I was already yanking on jeans and a soft black hoodie, not even bothering to style my hair. My heart thudded in anticipation the entire drive to her apartment, knuckles tight around the wheel. It wasn’t about the leaky pipe — I knew that. It was the fact that she called me. She wanted me there. And God, that was everything.
When Brittany opened the door, the sight of her nearly knocked the air from my lungs. She was in a soft, oversized sweater, bare feet on the hardwood, hair still damp from a shower. She looked tired, vulnerable, beautiful.
“Hey,” I breathed, stepping inside. “Where’s this rebellious pipe?”
She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh and led me to the kitchen, pointing to the puddle beneath the sink. “I think it hates me.”
I grinned, kneeling to take a look. “Nah. It just needed a little charm.”
While I worked, Brittany sat cross-legged on the floor beside me, watching with a bemused smile. We fell into easy conversation, her laughter filling the room like a melody I hadn’t realized I’d been starving for.
When I finally twisted the last bolt and wiped my hands on a rag, I glanced over at her. “All set.”
She beamed at me, eyes shining. “You’re my hero.”
I smirked, standing and stretching. “Well, a hero’s gotta eat. How about I cook us dinner?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You cook?”
