The Club: Ace

by Jenna Elliot

She looks at me then and whispers, “What aren’t you saying? What’s the real reason you’ve closed yourself off? Because it can’t really be just because you blame yourself for your sister’s death.”

  There it is. The real issue. My stomach feels as if it’s sucker-punching me from the inside out.

  “There are . . . reasons I’ve made this choice, Emme.”

  She waits, and the silence deepens. We pass a family. They’re laughing and scampering around as the father tries to keep a kite up on the breeze. Normal people having a good time. That is so not my world.

  Can it ever be?

  “You told me your parents died.” She finally looks up at me, slipping her fingers through mine. “Is this about them?”

  38

  Emme

  ONE SIMPLE QUESTION, and everything about Ace transforms before my eyes. I may not know the details, but everything about him looks haunted. From the raw edges of his expression to the way his broad shoulders suddenly seem to be carrying a heavy load. Too heavy?

  My heart aches for him, and I cling to his hand, willing myself not to react, to simply wait, to hopefully offer something, anything to ease his pain. Pain I don’t understand.

  “When I was nine, I was kidnapped,” he says, tone fiercely devoid of any emotion, somehow ragged, contrasted against the soothing rhythm of the Gulf.

  A surprised “Oh,” slips from my lips before I swallow back any more of a response. I didn’t have a clue what to expect, but I wouldn’t have imagined this. Not something so horrible.

  “The kidnappers held me for a few days before sending the ransom note. Emotional terror tactics, the Feds called it. I was locked in a room. No food, no water, no bathroom. No light.”

  Something about that seems significant to him. I say the only thing I can think to say, “You must have been terrified.”

  “I was a kid. I was scared shitless. Afraid they’d hurt me. Afraid I’d never see the people I loved most in the world again.” He shrugs as if none of this matters anymore, when it’s obvious nothing matters more. “I was right on both counts.”

  The horror of his admission robs me of everything but the memory of the young blond boy in the photo, laughing with the people he loved.

  “My parents died . . .”

  My throat is suddenly tight with emotion that wells up from everywhere. Like the incoming tide. I feel the baby inside me, our baby, a tiny person who’ll be in need of our protection and love. And the shock of everything important being torn away.

  I’m afraid to open my mouth, so I squeeze his hand.

  “My parents brought the ransom like the kidnapper instructed. They bargained for my life.”

  He stares straight ahead, as if the past is unfolding before him, hand clinging to mine. I can only keep placing one foot in front of the other, tears blinding me now, willing myself not to react, but unable to stop myself from the overwhelming sorrow I feel, the dawning understanding of why he has closed himself off from life.

  “We were at an abandoned warehouse,” Ace says simply, only there’s nothing simple about events that took place a lifetime ago. He’s locked in a scene from the past, and I’m carried along with him, needing to know yet wanting nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and erase the awfulness and ease his anguish.

  “I worked the blindfold off while the adults were talking. My parents knew, but the kidnapper didn’t. He wasn’t paying attention to me, just kept one hand on my shoulder. I broke away and took off for the door.”

  “You got away.”

  “Yes. And the kidnapper shot them. Both of them. Their blood spattered me. Blood and brains and . . .”

  And my sobs finally break free, stealing my breath and riding the glittering surf, as I reach for Ace, unable to stop myself, my heart breaking for the little boy he was and finally understanding the demons that drive the man.

  The man I love.

  39

  Ace

  EMME IS SUDDENLY in my arms. I cling to her, an anchor as my memories fade. The nightmare that has haunted my every minute of every day for all these years, has shaped my life and the choices I’ve made.

  Until Emme.

  I hold her tight, not caring that people keep passing by, giving us a wide berth as they head into the surf or farther up on shore to pass.

  “You blame yourself for all their deaths,” she says in a broken whisper. Not a question. She understands.

  I rest my cheek against the top of her head, inhale her familiar scent, absorb her light. “If I hadn’t run, the kidnapper might not have shot them.”

  “Oh, Ace.” And she tightens her grip on me as if she might somehow take the pain into herself.

  And she does. I don’t know how, but she does. And it’s only then that I can make the most terrible admission, the one that’ll send her running in the opposite direction because I’m toxic to anyone who loves me.

  “They died because of me, Emme. I may not have pulled the trigger, but they died because they loved me.”

  “No,” she says, and suddenly pulls out of my arms. She reaches up to grip my face, her tears streaming, her freckles standing out against the paleness of her skin. “No, Ace. They died because some crazy used you to extort money from them. They were victims. You were a victim.”

  The rational part of me knows she’s right. I’ve known since I grew enough to reason as an adult. But I don’t feel it. I never have.

  “My head knows that, Emme, but the pain and guilt just keep eating away at me. After I lost my sister too, I felt like I should pay for their lives with my happiness.”

  She brushes her fingertips across my lips, such a tender gesture, and I suck in her love, every drop, a starving man.

  “So spending every night with a different woman keeps you from . . . from what?”

  “Having the family I want. It was my penance.” I nod. “Until you. I haven’t been with anyone else since our first night together. I don’t want anyone but you.”

  “So you sent me away . . .”

  “I thought I could shut you out,” I can only give her the truth right now. I don’t know shit about love, but I know the only shot I have with her is the truth. “When I found out your apartment got trashed, I knew this same shit was happening all over again. I singled you out. I got too close. And you were going to pay for it. It may sound crazy, but it doesn’t feel crazy. I thought if I didn’t see you, I wouldn’t ever risk your safety, or this kind of pain again. But it’s too late. I already love you, Emme.”

  40

  Emme

  I REST MY CHEEK against Ace’s shoulder and savor the feel of his arms around me. I want time to stop. Right here and now. I don’t want to move from this moment, from this feeling of contentment, and I sure as hell don’t want to test this perfect moment against reality.

  I finally understand what’s driving Ace, and so much suddenly makes sense. When I think back on all the observations, the conversations, the tug of war that was the distance he kept trying to keep between us, everything falls into place.

  What I don’t know is what understanding means for us.

  He found me. He came and got me. He handled the Jason situation in such a supportive way.

  “So now what?” I ask. “Are you still doing penance?”

  “You helped me with that.”

  “How?”

  “I would stop at nothing to keep you and our baby safe. I don’t know if we’re having a son or a daughter, but I already love it. I would do anything to protect it. Give anything to make sure it survives.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “My parents loved me, just like I love our child. And they would have wanted me to run that day—even if it meant giving up their lives. I know that they would have wanted me to live, to love to be happy because that’s what I want for our child. I didn’t understand that until we got pregnant. You and the baby have set me free. Free to love. Free to be happy.”

  I don’t want the moment to end, but I know
better. I’d rather grab the issue with both hands than pretend there are easy answers ahead.

  He presses a kiss to the top of my head, such a sweet, caring gesture that reality starts to melt away again.

  “You marry me, of course.” His voice is a gruff whisper against my hair. “Then we just be together.”

  Perfection. That’s exactly what this is. And for this one perfect moment, I just snuggle against him, inhaling his scent, familiarizing myself with the hard contours of his body against me. But such a moment isn’t meant to last. I know that.

  Ace is larger than life. I know that, too, and I love that about him. But what if reality with me and a baby can’t keep his monsters at bay? What if he finds that he can’t live without the distance of another woman every night?

  I don’t know, and the answers feel so much bigger than me right now. I should simply accept the gift I’ve been given. Does the future really matter if my baby has her father’s last name and protection? If I have his support to raise our child?

  The practical part of me thinks it shouldn’t. But there’s the other part of me, the part who always had a plan to fall in love and make lots of babies and surround them with a big, laughing, messy family like my own.

  Do I try to create that family with Ace, or take our baby and move on, hoping to find someone to love who’ll help me surround my child with love?

  It’s a risk either way.

  That’s really what it all boils down to. Do I want our baby to have everything money can buy, or a family like mine who’ll love it no matter what?

  Ace has everything money can buy.

  And there’s my answer. I want our child to grow up with love. Which leaves me no closer to knowing if I should take the risk with Ace. There’s only one person to ask . . .

  I step out of his arms and look up at him, steeling myself against the sight of him, the handsome face that makes me throw caution to the wind for a ride in his arms. “May I use your phone?”

  He pulls the phone from his pocket but stares at me with a narrowed gaze. “I ask you to marry me, and you call Jason. Not sure where to go with that.”

  I laugh. For the first time since Mia found me, I honestly feel okay inside. Well, maybe not okay, but hopeful. Like things may just work out.

  I pluck the phone from his hand. “Who the hell’s Jason?”

  That gets a smile from him, too.

  “I’m going to take a walk and make a call,” I tell him. “I’ll meet you back at your tent.”

  “Whatever you want. Will you be long?”

  I shake my head. “I’m getting hungry, and you have food.”

  Now he laughs, the familiar laughter of the man who guided me on a sexual adventure that consumed my whole being. I lift up on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. “See you soon.”

  So I turn and head down the beach. There’s a barrier in place to keep the surf from eroding the shoreline, so I make for that. I need to think clearly, and I can’t do that around him.

  There’s a large part of me that’s completely freaking out. This morning, I thought I’d never see him again. Now he’s proposing—a man who never commits to a woman for more than a night wants to spend the rest of his life with me.

  It’s seems unreal. And I just can’t think past terror and bubbly excitement.

  I need help centering.

  I dial my mom, and tell her what has happened.

  “Oh, thank God you can come home,” she says. First things first, of course. “About marrying Ace . . . Well, what do you want, Emme?”

  After all those kids, Mom knows exactly what to say to get me thinking. She doesn’t judge. She doesn’t point out that this seems to be coming from left field. She has my best interests in mind and rarely even gives opinions. Instead, she helps me think.

  “That’s why I called. I want to believe in him, that he’ll try to be a good husband even though everything practical seems to indicate otherwise.”

  “Well then, tell me the good things about him,” she says. I imagine her settling in with her tea in her favorite chair on the sun deck, putting up her feet, the dog in her lap.

  “He’s full of grand gestures. He’s always the life of the party.” I smile when I think of the pavilion currently parked in the middle of Clearwater Beach.

  “But what draws you to him?”

  Adventurous sex. Not going there . . . “He’s protective, very comfortable in charge. He doesn’t see limitations, only new ways to make things happen. I like that about him. And he’s fun. Outrageous, really.”

  “I can see how that would appeal to you,” she agrees.

  “He doesn’t usually get involved with anyone the way he has with me. He never lets anyone know about the horrible things that happened in his past, but he let me in.”

  “And that makes you feel . . .”

  “Special.”

  “But what will keep you together for decades?” she asks. “Is the sex good?”

  “Mother!” Oh, God. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut. I am not having this conversation. “Let’s leave it at yes.”

  “Fair enough. That’s important, Emme. Makeup sex has kept many a marriage together.”

  “We’re all good there.”

  “Okay then. Is he kind, caring, sensitive? When he’s old, bald, and fat, are you going to want what he’s made of?”

  Now there’s a question. Even if he sticks around long enough for us to tackle old, bald, and fat, how do I know what I’m going to want in the future? “Can anyone really know?”

  “Not for sure. Even if he’s a person you respect now, he can change. He can grow. He can shut down. You really don’t have any way of knowing.”

  “That’s where I’m stuck. Between what seems practical and what I want inside. My heart versus my head.”

  “Marriage is one giant risk, Emme. But so is life, and you manage to open your eyes every day, get out of bed and risk it.”

  That stops me for a moment because she’s absolutely right. There are no guarantees. Just like I thought I had my whole life planned out, and then Jason happened. Just like Ace and I thought we had protection covered and poof! Not so much.

  I sink down onto a concrete barrier and find myself staring out at the horizon, the sky crisp, the clouds clean. I have no clue what’s out there. I only know that I want to be like my mom someday, wise and caring, helping my kid to sort through all the stuff in her head. Or his.

  “Mom, I . . .”

  “Look at this another way, Emme. How would you feel if you never saw Ace again? If he just disappeared from your life. Would you be sad? Or devastated? Would your feelings last a week? Or a lifetime? Would you still mourn him even if you went on and fell in love again?”

  I laugh. “You’re making my head hurt.”

  “Maybe you need to get your head out of this. Jason hurt you. So, trusting again is hard. What does your heart say?”

  She’s absolutely right. I hadn’t considered the impact of Jason, particularly now that he’s been so incredibly unbalanced and ugly. But now it seems obvious. “Can it really be that simple?”

  “It can if you want it to be.”

  “But I have our child to think about, too.”

  She sighs. “My first grandchild. I can’t wait to spoil him. Or her. I’m not partial to either, by the way. I love all my girls and all my boys. Each and every one of you is so special in your own way.”

  “You always made us feel that way.”

  “Then I did my job right. Yay!” She laughs. “And whatever you decide, Ace will always be a part of your life because he’ll be a part of your child. Hopefully, your child’s life, too. You’ll figure out how much of that life it should be.”

  “I don’t have to decide right now. He’s not pressuring me to decide.”

  Mom is silent. Apparently she disagrees. I say, “Could really use some wise input here.”

  “Relationships rarely stay the same. They either grow, or wither and die. I’m not saying you need to make a deci
sion this minute, but things happen. You meet someone. He meets someone. You get a job in another state, and if there’s no commitment, distance separates you. You have an open window of opportunity here, but no one can say when it will close.”

  “Mom, I love you. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but you’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  “Or you could just take a leap of faith, Emme. Hell, if the marriage doesn’t work out, there’s always divorce. These days, a woman has a choice.”

  “I can’t go into a marriage thinking I might want to divorce.”

  “I’m definitely not saying you should. I’m saying this decision is important, but if you marry the guy and it doesn’t work out, you have options.”

  I laugh. “That’s not exactly romantic.”

  “But it’s practical. And you know what else you haven’t considered?”

  “What?”

  “Living together.”

  “Are you saying we should get to know one another first?”

  “No, I’m saying it’s an option you aren’t considering. And you need to figure out why.”

  It’s true. I haven’t considered living together. Why? Because once I’m around Ace, his personality takes over. All I want is to please him. All I want is him. And more of him.

  That’s not normal. I’m crazy attracted to him on a physical level. Emotionally, I have a deep need to please him. But is that good for me? For our child?

  “Emme, it’s not up to Ace to make you happy. Only you can do that. And you do. You’ve always looked to yourself for happiness. And that will stay with you. Always.”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “Happiness isn’t a present someone gives to someone else. It’s something that comes from inside. There are people who have loving spouses, wealth, and health, and they still aren’t happy. Others make do with very little yet their lives are full.”

  “So no matter what I decide . . .”

  “You can still choose to be happy, dear. Trust that if it’s right for you, it’ll be right for my grandchild.”