by Lacey Dailey
"Nah, man. I'm good. We took down Kade once. We'll do it again."
“Ace.” Cruz prompted with a voice that said he didn’t have time to bullshit. "Nobody here is blind. It’s obvious you’re feeling some type of way. So bulk up and spit it out.”
I held up my hand. “I just need a second, man."
Cruz’s eyes turned to slits. His biceps bulged when he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the doorframe. “Ace, I can try to pretend there isn’t something going on with you but I will not forget. Comprende?”
I nodded.
He didn't leave.
After several moments of deafening silence, I came to the conclusion that I couldn't wait him out. That nosey, caring bastard would stand there all night until I unloaded on him.
I pushed off the sink and rolled my shoulders back. My fingers yanked out the band that held my hair and wrapped themselves around the ends. It felt as though my mind had too many tabs open. There was just too much going on. My hair became a buffer. I focused on the way it felt between my fingers rather than how the words I began to speak made me feel.
"You, uh, you ever feel guilty?" I stammered. "Nobody knows shit about your family. I know you don't want to talk about them. But do you ever feel guilty for lying to the people you love? For keeping half of your life a secret?" I turned my head and pleaded with his stoic eyes. "And could you tell me how the fuck you do it?"
He pushed off the wall and took a step towards me, widening his stance. "This is about Brett."
It was not a question. I didn't bother giving him an answer.
“You’re upset because the rules prevent you from telling him about Mischief?”
“No. Yes. I…” I wrapped my hand around the back of my neck and squeezed, trying to relieve some pressure. “I’m not a fucking idiot. I know the rule is there for a reason. I get it. I really fucking do, man, but this isn’t just about me being salty I can’t tell my boyfriend.”
I was fucking overwhelmed. I’d never minded being ripped in half before. Never cared I had to keep Mischief and Ace on separate sides of life. Now, I could barely breathe knowing Brett was hovering somewhere in the middle and had no fucking clue.
“He is her God damn brother, man.” I whispered, carelessly slamming my foot into the base of the sink. Not because I was angry but because my body was buzzing so harshly, I thought my skin might fall right off.
"It's just so hard," I uttered. “As if this wasn't already the biggest shit pile in the universe, Kade is coming back. It’s one thing this fucker hurt his sister once, but now he’s making an appearance through his boyfriend? I have to stand in front of him when he talks about Sage with tears running down his face, acting like I don’t know how Circuit saved her. I watch him struggle with the unknown and the need to have more answers, pretending like I’m just as clueless as he is. I... I don't know how to pretend anymore, Cruz.” I pinched the space between my eyes. The burn in them was almost unbearable. "Teach me how to pretend and how to live with it."
He said nothing. He stared at me with unmoving eyes, his lips pressed together.
Maybe I was overreacting. Freaking out over something half the people in Circuit dealt with on a daily basis. Hell. Most of the crew had significant others they went home to each night and they weren’t having some sort of crazy breakdown next to a toilet.
I made my choice a long time ago when I submerged myself in all that Mischief brought. Cruz was right. I needed to bulk up.
“I’m sorry.” I cleared my throat roughly and clenched my fists so I wouldn’t smack myself across the face.
Get it together, Ace. This is what you signed up for.
“I’m just struggling. That’s all. Give me some time, and I’ll do better.”
I hoped that was true. But even as I said it, I wasn’t completely convinced. I flashed him a weak smile and moved to stride past him, out of the room where it was beginning to feel like the walls were closing in and back into the one that housed half of who I was.
Before I took two full steps, a fist grabbed my shirt and held me in place. I startled and gawked at Cruz. Something dark swirled in his eyes. “Pretending is easy when you want to believe it, Ace. Otherwise, it's hard. Hard to pretend one thing when you believe so deeply in another.”
The lines in his face shifted. I had no idea what his expression portrayed but was shocked to see it none the less. It was a realm I didn't know Cruz visited.
A realm of feelings.
I wasn't sure what he was feeling–and I knew he'd never tell me–but I thought it might've been the same thing I was.
I peeled his fingers from my chest and took a step back, smoothing out my shirt. “Tell me how to move past it.” I practically begged.
“You don't.”
My heart seized and sunk deep into a bottomless pit.
He stepped back and scratched at the top of his head. “Let me ask you something, mano.” With a quick motion of his hand, he started rubbing his chin. “Do you think Brett would ever expose us?”
“Dude, never.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t he trying to get into the police academy?”
“So, what? You think he’s gonna write on his application he’s dating a criminal? No. He’s a good man, Cruz. Brett would never give us up.”
He nodded a few times, seemingly lost his in own thought. “You’d trust Brett to keep our secret?”
“Hell yes.”
“Yeah, well.” He clapped his hands together. “So would I.”
I blinked. “Wait… what?”
He nudged his head toward the door. "Go stop pretending."
My tongue ran dry and my stomach dropped out of my ass. My heart sped up like a syringe of caffeine was just emptied directly into it as I stood there motionless. I was in some sort of trance. There was a ringing in my ears but luckily, I could still make out the word that was repeatedly leaving Cruz’s lips.
"Go."
12
Brett
A grunt escaped my lips. The muscles between my shoulder blades strained with each bend of my arm. Clenching the fist I had behind my back, I shook my head, moisture flying off the tips of my hair and slinging into the air around me. A bead of sweat slipped down the middle of my forehead and fell off the tip of my nose, directly in the center of the textbook I had open. The page wrinkled around the puddle of the sweat, blurring the words surrounding it.
When Ace first mentioned one-handed push-ups while simultaneously studying, I’d figured he was just talking through his dick. Then I got to thinking the idea came with some perks. Sure, I was a two-time college dropout, but I was still smart enough to know testing would put me through my paces. Mentally and psychically. I didn’t know diddly squat about the criminal justice system when I’d confessed my bone-deep desire to become a cop.
The desire wasn’t based off anything but an impulse. A feeling I had lingering within me that told me this was what I was supposed to do. Five years ago, I would’ve guffawed in your face if you’d suggested I give up my lab coat and goggles for a uniform and a badge. But life is ever-changing, and the people who experience it change too. It took witnessing the truest act of outright cruelty to completely change the course of my life.
Cops had a duty to protect and serve. If I hadn’t grown up with that notion burned into my brain from television and school, I’d know after seeing it plastered all over my textbooks. But there was a second part to that statement I just didn’t agree with.
Cops had a duty to protect the weak.
No.
As far as I was concerned, cops held a duty to protect every innocent American from falling victim to another human’s act of crime or violence. After Sage went missing, I retreated deep into my grief and launched into an investigation and loads of research. The number of unsolved cases in the state of Virginia was staggeringly high. It made me physically sick to read the numbers and hear the statements made by terrified loved ones. I wasn’t strong enough to do somethi
ng about it back then. I wasn’t even sure I was strong enough to do something about it now.
But I had to try. My soul was dying in that sporting goods store, sliding nylon socks onto the feet of bratty children. I longed for a job where no two days were alike. When spontaneity was common and I was active constantly. I had an urge to make a quantifiable difference in the lives of those around me. I’d felt that urge for years. The only difference between now and then is that I was no longer allowing the fear to control me.
I wasn’t entirely sure when it switched, but I’d bet all the money I’d spent on college to say it stemmed from Sage’s return and Ace’s… well… everything.
Was it all Ace’s doing? I liked to think I did some of it on my own. But the fact was, life was easier around Ace. I didn’t necessarily understand it, but I had to give credit where credit was due. And now that I knew I wouldn't lose him or scare him away by acting on the impulses that constantly struck to hold him and kiss him, I felt like the world’s luckiest bastard.
I dropped to my stomach and sat back on my knees, using the back of my hand to wipe off the pool of sweat that had congregated on my forehead. Running my palms down my thighs, I tried to remove the moisture so I could continue without my hands slipping all over the hardwood floor. Cracking my knuckles, I assumed the position. This time, positioning my right arm behind my back and planting my left one into the floor beneath me. The left side was always harder but I could not enter the police academy with one arm bulkier than the other. No, sir.
I grunted and forced myself into my tenth push-up when the front door bounced off the wall behind it and a strangulated gasp filled the room.
“I knew it!!!”
My body jolted under the sudden sound. I collapsed against the floor, tilting my head to spot the intruder. Ace looked fucking adorable, staring at me with his jaw on the ground and his eyes darkening. My cock stirred when his throat bobbed and he grasped at the collar of his shirt as if just looking at me sent him up in flames.
“I knew it! I knew you did all sorts of sexy stuff when I’m not here.”
“Ace.” I chuckled and sat back on my knees, leaving behind a thin layer of sweat on the floor. “That is not true.”
“What do you mean it’s not true? Were you or were you not just doing one handed push-ups while half-naked and sweaty?”
“I was.”
“Exactly,” he whined and kicked his shoes across the apartment, launching into a miniature tantrum. “Were you at least recording it so I could watch it later?”
“You want me to do push-ups for you, babe? I will.” I flashed him a wink and stretched out my shoulders. I was betting I didn’t even get to do two full push-ups before he was over here trying to rip off my pants. But if my man wanted something to watch, I’d give him something to watch.
Just before I was about to move back into position, he shocked the ever-loving shit out of me by saying, “No.”
I blinked. “No?”
“No.” He scratched violently at the nape of his neck. “Can you actually go put a shirt on?”
“You want me to cover myself up?” That was new.
“Yeah. I need to talk to you about something and I’m already getting distracted.”
“Okay, yeah.” I closed my book and jumped to my feet. “I’m going to go rinse off really quick.” I ditched the book on the counter and took a long drink from the glass of iced water I had sitting out. Licking extra sweat from my lip, I called out to him, “You’re home a lot earlier than you usually are.”
“I know. Go rinse off, yeah? I really need to talk to you.”
I frowned and abandoned my drink. “Everything okay?”
He flashed me the fakest smile I’d ever seen cross his lips. “Hope so.” His lips met mine in a chaste kiss. “Go.”
“No.” I grasped his chin between my thumb and finger, staring into his eyes. There was something peculiar mixed in with his usual joy for life. It almost looked like panic. “Hey. Come on. What’s going on?”
“I lied.”
“You lied?”
“To you.” He elaborated. “I lied to you.” He attempted to turn his face away.
Not about to let him retreat, I tightened the hold I had on him. “When?”
“Well, uhm, how long have I known you?”
“Seven months.”
“Right. Okay.” He wheezed a little. “Every day for the last seven months then.”
I studied him, my brows pulling together. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve been lying to me every day since you’ve known me?”
“Yes. Exactly.” He took a calming breath. “And also, I’m a criminal.”
“Wait… what? A criminal?” I took in the way he was wringing his hands together and avoiding looking directly into my eyes. He was tipped slightly backward, avoiding coming into contact with my bare chest. Almost as though he was shy or afraid. “What the hell are you— oh! Is this one of those things? Is right now where I’m supposed to pretend to be Officer Maddison and frisk the criminal? Shit, baby. We are going to need some sort of signal or something because I am so behind.”
“Brett!” He swatted at my hands and flailed from my grip. I was struck with a twinge in my chest. He’s never pushed away from me.
“No. This is not a role-playing scenario, but please, shelf that in the back of your mind for later. This is real life, okay? I’m trying to fucking tell you something so stop joking around and put on your shirt!”
I stared at him for a beat, struggling not to snap at him and the attitude he was slinging my way. The only thing stopping me was the uncertainty in his eyes and how uncharacteristic this was for him. I snatched the T-shirt I was wearing earlier today from the back of the couch and put it on quickly.
I gestured to the couch. “Come sit.”
“It’s inside out.”
“What?”
He perched on the edge of the couch like he thought it'd burn his ass cheeks. “Your shirt. It’s inside out.”
“Don’t care.” I sat down next to him and cleared my suddenly dry throat. My hands ached with the need to touch him, my fingertips inching across the couch towards him before I forced it away with a pained sigh. I wasn’t sure I could handle him pushing me away for a second time in ten seconds. I struggled to wrap my mind around what might have happened in the last few hours since I had him pinned against the refrigerator. “Everything okay?”
He shook his head, pressing his palms over his face. I watched him drag in a long breath before he blew it out roughly. When he dropped his hands, I was met with the face of a stranger.
This was not my Ace. His smile wasn’t just gone. He wasn’t neutral or being nonchalant. He was straight up frowning, eyes foggy and cheeks hollow. The dark rings under his eyes made me wonder if he was actually asleep these past few nights or just spent the eight hours lying on my chest and staring at the wall.
He blinked once. The fog in his eyes grew heavier as they focused on a spot above my head. As if they were refusing to make contact with any part of me. He didn't make a sound. Didn’t move another muscle. For the next several moments, he sat there. Like I'd just unplugged him and he was shutting down.
“Babe—"
“I was excited.” He mumbled. “The whole way here I was practically skipping because I was so damn happy I don’t have to keep you in the dark anymore. But now that I’m here?” He took a shallow breath, and I was finally met with his eyes. Worry was pouring out of them. “I’m afraid it’s going to change everything.”
I reached for him, breathing a sigh of relief when I cupped his cheeks and he didn’t jerk away. “Talk to me.”
“Please,” he pleaded. “Please, just hear me out, okay? You might freak out at first but please hear me out.”
“I’m right here,” I assured him, exhaling at the distressed features marring his face. “I’m here and I’m listening. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Pathways is fake, Brett. It doesn’t exist. The website is fa
ke. The name is fake. There is no youth homeless center on a street named Holiday Drive. I’ve been lying to you since the moment I met you and I’m so sorry.” He pinched his nose, clapped his hands together, and took a giant breath. “I’m a criminal, Brett. Pathways may not be real, but the place I go every night is very real and extremely illegal. Lying to you makes me sick but it’s a rule, B. A super important rule because if one of us is exposed then we all are and our entire operation goes down. And it’s not that I don’t trust you, boo. I do, but I have thirteen other members to consider and none of us want to end up in some hideous, used orange jumpsuit eating prison food for the rest of our lives.”
The stern expression laced throughout his face told me he wasn’t joking. But he had to be, right? Ace was soft. Kind. Gentle-hearted. He cried watching the Titanic and liked to snuggle. Those were not qualities of a criminal. “No way.” I pushed up from the couch, my bare feet padding against the floor as I paced, refusing to accept what the hell he was saying. “You’re not a criminal.”
“Legally speaking, I am." Slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, he stood from the couch and started toward me. "We don’t like to consider ourselves criminals. More like vigilantes. Or anti-heroes. We only use our powers for good, Brett. I promise.”
Powers?
I slapped my hand across his forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“Feeling for a fever. Are you feverish? Doing drugs?”
He grabbed my wrist and found my hand, entwining our fingers. One by one, his lips grazed each of my knuckles in a barely-there kiss. “Babe, I know this sounds crazy and is hard to wrap your head around but stick with me. Okay?”
I could only nod and step closer, squeezing his hand.
“I’m a hacker. Wren and I both are, actually. Every night I tell you I’m going to Pathways but really, I’m sitting behind my desk, miles deep into the Dark Web, working under the name Mischief.”