by Drew Elyse
Heck, you could have made the argument that I should have tracked him down sooner, I should have known there was something that drove him away and fought to fix it. That didn’t mean I was going to saddle myself with guilt over the years we were apart, but it bared considering.
The fact of the matter was life wasn’t simple. Life happened to each of us, the good and the bad, and all we could do was react. Sometimes, we’d get it wrong. Two years ago, Ace had done that.
I didn’t want to make the same mistake now.
“I could move past it,” I finally answered. “I’m not there yet, not entirely, but I could do it.”
“Then you have to figure out what you need to make that happen,” she stated. “Decide what that is and see if he can give it to you.”
What had I needed to move on? The question seemed so big. It spun around in my mind, no answer cropping up. I thought back through every moment, all the times I hurt. I thought for hours while Max and I sat in that yard. I was no closer when Ham arrived and took my best friend away, explaining Ace would still be a while. It still hadn’t come to me when I went back up to Ace’s room and lay down in his bed with a book I didn’t bother opening.
The answer hadn’t hit me until I heard a motorcycle roaring up the lane and realized my time was probably up. It was that moment, when I feared he was back and I’d fall into the welcome distraction he offered, I frantically searched my heart for the answer and it came to me.
What I had wanted since the day he walked away, what I needed still even then in order to move on, was answers.
I had some, but it was time to get the rest.
Ace came in to the room with a smile on his face, and it felt like a blow to my resolution. I wanted to sink right into that happiness, enjoy every moment, but we had to talk. I needed this—we needed it if we were going to make it.
“Fuck, I love coming home to you,” he said as he approached, hooking a hand around my neck to kiss me.
That blow was even stronger, even sweeter. I let myself sink into the warm feeling for a moment, soaking up his kiss. A lifetime of moments like that—that was what I was going to darken this one for. If we made it to the other side, the sacrifice would absolutely be worth it.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I told him when he pulled back.
“Okay,” he agreed. “Just give me a minute.”
Well, that wasn’t a great start.
“It’s important,” I stressed.
His expression turned curious, if somewhat concerned, but he assured me, “I promise I’m not avoiding that. I just need a minute first. Yeah, baby?”
“Okay.”
He smiled at me again, though some of the luster had faded, then turned and headed to the bathroom. Alright, given that was where he went, I realized I might have been a little intense about the talking-right-then thing. What we had to discuss was serious, but it wasn’t an imminent matter of life and death. If I went in to this discussion already that wired, I was apt to make things too emotional.
I heard the sink running in the distance for a bit, then quiet for a little longer before the door opened. Ace came striding back across the hall, his shirt off, revealing his bare chest. He was rubbing the exposed skin with a hand towel. The sight of him without a shirt would always serve to distract me, but it did an inordinately good job of that when his hand and the towel dropped away.
“What is that?”
He smiled. It was a stupid question, but his smile wasn’t in amusement. No, that smile was all pride.
There, on his left pec, right above his heart, was a brand new tattoo, still red around the edges. Drawing in air was a battle. It wasn’t just any ink. It was a meadowlark.
A little bird.
“You…” That was all I had. I didn’t know what else to say.
“Do you like it, little bird?” he asked.
I got up from the bed and moved across the room to him. My hand came up, almost on its own accord, and traced across his skin just below the tattoo.
“You got this for me.” It wasn’t a question.
“I wanted to for a long time,” he explained anyway.
“I…”
Okay, I steeled myself, you have to say it. Just tell him we need to talk.
There would be time after to tell him what that tattoo made me feel. If we could get through this, I could spend the next fifty odd years loving that sight and telling him just how much I did.
“I have something else for you,” he said before I could get us back on the right track.
I was going to ask him to wait, to let me get out what I needed to before he gave me whatever it was, but he dropped down to one knee and any words I could have mustered died in my throat.
His hand went to his back pocket and returned in front of him, a diamond ring held between his fingers.
“I didn’t do this right the first time,” he started. “You should have had it all, even me making an ass of myself. I can’t change that, but I can give it to you now. I want you to have this. The ring. The real proposal. Fuck, we can have another wedding if you want. Just give me you again—give me forever.”
He paused for just a moment, not long enough to give me a chance to choke up anything like words.
“Will you marry me, little bird?”
Fuck, she wasn’t answering.
Fuck.
She. Wasn’t. Answering.
I felt the ache in my knee on the ground and the strain of holding the ring out for her acutely. It was all so hard, so impossible to ignore. My heart was beating hard—hard enough to fuck with my breathing. I felt sick. She was going to say no.
What the fuck was I supposed to do if she said no?
I’d told her I would sign those papers. That I would give her the divorce she’d been asking for and actually let her go forever. I wanted to give Quinn what she needed, but stuck in that silence, I wasn’t sure I could.
“Please give me something, babe,” I pleaded.
She was looking down at me, her mismatched eyes wide, her face losing color. Her body was so still, it was like she wasn’t even breathing. She looked horrified. She didn’t look at me. Her eyes were fixed on that ring like it was the pin to a grenade I’d thrown into the room.
It might have made me a sap, but I couldn’t deny the way I’d pictured her face while I was at the jeweler getting that ring. I’d imagined her smile, her “yes”, her letting me take her to bed to celebrate.
What I was seeing was nothing like that.
“Quinn,” I called, but it was so much more. It was me begging her with just her name not to do this to me, even if I deserved it. And I knew I did. I deserved for her to say no, to walk out, to disappear from my life forever.
I had the audacity to hope that wouldn’t happen.
Then, she spoke, and it felt like her words came right out of left field.
“Why didn’t you call me when you were shot?”
Fuck.
Her face didn’t show it then, but I remembered the devastation there when she’d first learned about the shooting. We’d talked, in part, about my leaving, but there hadn’t been a word about that. She’d been harboring that since she’d been back. I was trying to step forward into forever, but she wasn’t ready yet. I hadn’t done enough to help her move on.
It fucking sucked to rise from the floor not taking her in my arms and kissing the shit out of her for saying yes, but I hadn’t earned it. I was trying to fast forward through this. It was the same shit I pulled when I took us to that courthouse. I pocketed the ring as it sent a wave of nausea through me. Quinn’s eyes followed it, and I hoped like hell that meant she wanted that ring, just not yet.
Leading her around the bed, I sat her on the edge and pulled the desk chair across the room so I could be right in front of her. Then, I gave it all to her.
“I was shot twice several months ago while I was guarding Ash,” I explained. Her eyes moved to the two scars that would forever remain on my torso f
rom that day. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized she’d never looked at them before. At least, not in a noticeable way. It was almost like she was avoiding them, avoiding all their presence meant to her.
Fuck.
“There’s a long story to why Ash needed watching, and why that shit blew up in a way that ended in me taking two bullets to protect her. I’ll give you that. I’ll tell you the whole thing if you need it, but right now, that isn’t what’s important.”
I stopped there for a minute and waited for a sign that she was with me. Her face was focused, a little crease having formed between her eyebrows. She understood and gave me a small nod.
“What matters is what I felt when I woke up in that hospital room. The answer to that is one fucking word: devastated. I was conscious through both shots. The first one, I was still fighting. The second one was what put me down, but I didn’t go out right away. I was awake long enough to be sure I was about to die, and it was fucking hell on earth because I knew it meant Ash was unprotected. But even fucking worse, I knew, somewhere out there, you were too.” She sucked in a breath that was almost a gasp, but I kept going.
“I woke up again knowing immediately you wouldn’t be there, and it hurt nearly as bad as the bullets did.”
Quinn reached out with one hand, her fingers coming just shy of touching the scar under my left shoulder—the one she’d hit nearly two weeks ago. I didn’t say anything as she did, just let her do what she wanted. After a second, she pulled back before making contact. I wanted to grab her hand and put it there myself, just to fucking feel her, but I didn’t. I started talking again, hoping like hell that would do what I needed it to.
“I had to have surgery to take one of the bullets out,” I explained, and she finally spoke.
“One?”
“The other’s still in there. It was safer just to leave it.”
She didn’t look any calmer at hearing that, so I went on.
“A couple of the brothers were in the room with me when I came to. I asked after Ash, and they told me I was asking for her before I was fully with it, which doesn’t surprise me. She was fine, but she’d been alone for a few minutes with the bastard who shot me, who wanted to kill her, because I couldn’t keep her safe. She—fuck…” I hated thinking about it. I hadn’t wanted to, but I’d make myself for Quinn. “She ended up shooting the motherfucker herself. I saw her, and I could see the damage that did to her. She was a fucking mess, fussing over me from the moment she saw me.
“I played it off. Gave her shit about freaking out over me. I’d have said anything to keep her from falling apart. She was barely holding herself together, and I felt that deep. I knew I did everything I could to protect her, but that motherfucker who wanted her still took me down.
“One of the brothers got me a phone after she left. I even fucking typed in your number, but I couldn’t make the call. All I could think about was that shit Damien said. I was no fucking good for you. I’d left you alone, unprotected. And then I was envisioning you there that day instead of Ash. You still in my life like you should have been and needing my protection from some crazy fucker. You, who I failed and left to defend yourself from a man with a fucking gun.
“It all fucked with my head. I didn’t call. I gave the phone back. I even told myself I’d sign the papers the next time you sent them, decided I would let you go and hope you found someone better. But when you showed up, when I was looking right at your beautiful face again, I realized that was all bullshit. There’s not a man on this earth who would protect you like I would. I took two bullets for a woman I barely knew then, a woman I was willing to give my life to protect just because of what she meant to my brother. For you, there isn’t a fucking thing that could stop me.”
I took my girl in. Her eyes were big, her jaw tight. She was so fucking tense, like she was holding herself together. Her hands were trembling even though she fisted them. I took them in mine, holding them steady for her. If she gave me the chance, I’d always be there to be strong when she couldn’t.
“I love you, Quinn. I’ve made a fuckload of mistakes. If I could go back, if I could do it all over, I would change every fucking thing from the minute I even thought of walking away. If I woke up tomorrow back in any day since the day I left, I’d run right back to you. All it took was seeing you standing there for me to realize I made the biggest fucking mistake of my life when I left. I’m not perfect, but there isn’t another man out there who could love you the way I do. I should have known two years ago it was enough.”
Quinn gave me nothing. She was fucking killing me.
“Tell me it’s still enough,” I begged.
She looked down at our hands, then up at me. She bit down on her lip, and I braced.
Then, my girl, my sweet fucking girl, gave me everything.
“I love you.”
I didn’t hold back. I was out of my chair, taking her mouth and pressing her back into the mattress. With fumbling hands, I got the ring out of my pocket. Already breathing heavy, I broke the kiss and brought the ring up. She didn’t wait for me to ask. No, she stuck her left hand up between us, a silent demand. I was only too fucking happy to give her what she wanted. I slid it down her finger until it was resting snug against her wedding ring. Then, I grabbed her hand and kissed that spot.
“You’re mine again now, little bird.”
She gave me a watery smile so big and bright, I didn’t give a fuck about how hard it had been to take her silence. I’d remember that smile for the rest of my life.
“I always have been.”
She was right. She was so fucking right. Quinn had been mine since the moment I saw her in that bookstore, just like I’d been hers.
Forgiveness was divine.
It was an old adage I’d never given much thought until that moment.
Seeing the look Ace gave me made those words ring true in a way they never had before. Forgiveness was no longer an abstract concept. It had a face, a body, a steady, beating heart I could feel beneath my hand. Forgiveness was being in his arms and feeling nothing but content.
Nothing had ever felt more divine than that.
Ace was on top of me, his solid weight pressing me into the mattress, his hips circling against mine. I was still dressed, but so ready for him. I didn’t have a lot of experience with even dating before he came into my life, but every time he had me like that, I knew what we had wasn't ordinary. The way he made me ignite for him couldn’t be.
“Jack,” I gasped.
“Fuck, I do love when you use my real name,” he replied, his hand moving down to rub between my legs. “But I think I’d love just about anything you could say in that voice.”
I didn’t say anything in response to that. I was too focused on what he was doing with that devilish hand of his. The pressure he was applying, the way it pushed the seam of my jeans against my clit, had me close. If he didn’t stop soon, I was going to come before we got any clothes off at all.
“I got you something else,” he rumbled, his voice deeper from the obvious enjoyment he got out of the state I was in. “It came in yesterday and I’ve been waiting to give it to you.”
“What?”
He gave me a smirk that had me both extra curious and somewhat wary before he kissed me. Then, despite the shameless noise I made in protest, he stopped his ministrations and rose from the bed.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
He laughed. “Your other present,” he reminded me, heading to the closet.
He was only gone a moment before he turned back to me. What he held in his hands had me panicking and excited at the same time: a little bottle I could guess was lube based on what was in his other hand.
“Is that…” I started to ask, but couldn’t manage to get the words out.
“You enjoyed me playing with my fingers, but you said they used a toy in your book. Now, I’m stocked to give you more,” he said in answer. “Going to plug you, then you’re going to ride me and take yourself there.
”
I looked at the plug in his hand. It wasn’t big, per se, but when I thought about where it was going, it seemed massive, like maybe it was dimensionally transcendental—bigger on the outside than when it’s inside.
Okay, I was freaking out a little. Comparing a sex toy to a spacecraft that could travel through time was not a normal reaction to this situation.
“Babe,” Ace called, and I focused on him only to realize he was right in front of me, a fist propping him up as he leaned over the bed to get closer.
“Hi,” I responded by rote.
He gave me the grin he always did when he thought I was being cute. Since that was almost always when I was being a dork, it didn’t serve to make me feel cute.
“Freaking out?”
“Maybe a little,” I admitted.
“Don’t.” It was one word, but it carried the weight of all the others he didn’t say. I could trust him. I didn’t have to be nervous. I would enjoy this, and if I didn’t, we wouldn’t do it.
“Okay.”
He started taking off his clothes and any nerves took a backseat to enjoying the show. His cut went first, and I was tempted to tell him how much I was starting to like the leather. Since his shirt was already coming off, I decided that particular conversation could wait—any conversation could wait.
Pulling his shirt off dislodged his beanie a little and he reached for the top of it to pull it free. That loosened my vocal chords.
“Leave it on.” It came out as more of a demand than I had planned, but it got the point across. He smirked as he straightened it out, then reached for his belt.
“Are you just going to sit there and watch the show?” he asked.
I thought about moving, but I was enjoying myself. Since it was going to be obvious either way, I gave him the truth. “Yes.”
“Babe.” He wanted me to get to getting naked.