“Ace?” came Jasper’s voice. “You okay, man?”
I swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “Yeah,” I croaked. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t.
And I never would be again.
.
Chapter 38
Ace
The pressure was suffocating.
It started with the texts. Then the calls. Then the quiet, tense dinners at home where my father sat at the head of the table, eyes sharp as knives, watching every move I made.
“You have two days,” he said last night, swirling his scotch in the glass, his voice cool, unshaken. “Two days to end it with Brittany. After that, I’ll do it for you. And believe me, son, you don’t want me to do it.”
The words burned into my skin, even now.
I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, fingers tangled in my hair as I tried to remember how to breathe. My chest felt tight, my lungs too small for the air they were supposed to hold.
Two days.
I watched Brittany move around the apartment, barefoot in one of my old shirts, her hair still damp from the shower. She was humming softly to herself, folding laundry on the couch, smiling at nothing in particular.
God, she was beautiful.
And I was breaking.
“Ace?” Her voice snapped me out of the spiral, soft and a little unsure. “Did you hear me?”
I blinked up at her. “What?”
She gave me a small, hesitant smile. “I asked if you wanted me to order in tonight or cook. You’ve been quiet all day.”
“I’m fine,” I said too quickly, standing, pacing toward the window, watching the city lights flicker against the night. “Just… work stuff.”
Brittany set the laundry down and crossed over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, her cheek pressing against my back. “Talk to me,” she whispered. “You’ve been distant for days.”
I closed my eyes. Her touch — it was both salvation and torture.
“I’m fine, Britt.” My voice came out rougher than I intended, and I felt her stiffen slightly.
She pulled back, turning me toward her, searching my face. “You sure?” she asked quietly. “Because it feels like you’re slipping away from me.”
I forced a smile, brushing a knuckle down her cheek. “You’re just overthinking. One of your episodes, baby.” I kissed her forehead, hating myself for the lie. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She searched my eyes for another heartbeat, then nodded, even if doubt still lingered in her gaze.
But she wanted to believe me.
And I was a coward.
I let the hours slip by — laughing with her over dinner, watching some old movie, pretending like the floor wasn’t about to collapse under us. But in my head, all I could hear was my father’s voice.
Two days.
