I Need You To Love Me, page 28
“That’s it. Come for me.” Ace presses his lips on mine, feeling me incoherently muttering his name into his mouth as I come undone on top of him, my walls clenching around his erection.
He follows soon after, reaching his own climax and spilling inside of me while burying his head in the crook of my neck. After catching our breath, Ace uses his shirt as a rag, wiping it between my thighs.
Denzel parks in the basement, and my cheeks flush a deep red when getting out of the car. Ace is left shirtless, and he sets his hand on my lower back as he directs me toward the elevator and into his apartment.
“Ace… There’s something I need to tell you,” I reveal when we’re in his kitchen.
The curtains are open, as always, revealing the whole city. It’s incredible what he has achieved at such a young age. Yes, some would say Ace took shortcuts, but the shortcuts weren’t to benefit himself initially. They were for others—for his family, for Ellie. I don’t want to imagine what could have happened if he didn’t take them.
He fills two cups with water and hands one to me. He tilts his head and drinks, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Finally, he sets his glass down on the counter. “Hmm?”
“I was meant to have The Times interview today,” I begin.
“How did that go?”
I take a sip of water and set the glass on the counter, too, preparing to disclose something that has the potential to change everything. “It didn’t go. Someone by the name of Mark Stanton showed up instead. He said he’s with the FBI.”
Ace’s head snaps toward me, but his expression remains unwavering. However, I know him well enough now to recognize when he’s deep in thought.
“Did you know? About him?” I prompt when he doesn’t provide a timely reply.
“I had my suspicions, but I didn’t think they’d target you. They’ve been probing around.”
“What do they want?” I ask, but I already have a good idea. Ace isn’t exactly a saint. He’s involved in things that aren’t legal. Isn’t this what I was afraid of all along?
“To bring the country’s criminal activity down, but they don’t know anything. They’re just guessing.”
“It sounded like he knows a lot more than you think.”
“Tell me everything.”
“He asked me questions about you, about Cassidy, about Nik.” About Logan.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing, Ace. I told him that you and I aren’t involved. I told him that I never heard the name Cassidy, and I told him that Nik and I used to see each other.” His fists curl at the last detail.
He nods. “Good.”
“Ace…he also asked me about Logan.”
Ace sets his jaw at this, gripping the edge of the counter.
“Is he involved with you?” I question.
“No.”
“Then why would the FBI be asking about him?”
“Cass is involved with him.”
Oh. “What’s going to happen?” My hands shake.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll take care of it, Calla. You don’t need to worry about it,” he vows, approaching me and placing a kiss on my forehead. He wraps his strong arms around me. “I’m sorry that I let it come this far. It won’t happen again.”
He tilts my chin to face him and covers my mouth with his. A promise that he’ll deal with it.
“Stay with me tonight,” Ace invites me once he pulls away.
I know it’s unhealthy to rely on a person so much you can’t be away from them for more than a day. We’ve been together almost every day for two weeks, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
“I don’t have any clothes.” An excuse. One I hope he doesn’t accept.
“You don’t need any,” he says playfully, but when I narrow my eyes at him, he adds, “You can sleep in my clothes, and I’ll drive you to your apartment early tomorrow morning so you can get ready for work.”
And that’s all it takes for me to succumb to him, maybe because something at the back of my mind tells me that everything is about to change.
25
Clouded Reality
Calla
The next couple of days pass in a blur. I’m occupied with work, finally completing my two-page article on the famous Ace Blackwell. I’m resigned to the fact that no one will be able to perceive Ace the way I do. He’s not just the world’s youngest boxing champion, a womanizer, and the youngest entrepreneur in the country. He’s much more than that.
Underneath the stone layer he’s constructed over the years, underneath all the hurt and blame encompassing him, underneath everything he’s trying to conceal, is everything I fell for.
I’ve tried to portray him in a unique light without disclosing anything the world doesn’t already know, respecting his privacy for apparent reasons. But, to reveal glimpses of the genuine Ace, I had to dig deeper and recollect the memories that made me fall for him in the first place.
He doesn’t let many people in, whether it has something to do with his past, his father leaving, or because he doesn’t trust anyone. The reasons fit hand in hand with each other. However, it’s one of the many things that aren’t public record, and I’m surprised at how well Ace has kept everything away from the media.
Ace and I once had a conversation I still remember to this day. We were at his dad’s cabin, which was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nature, away from every bit of civilization. We were lounging outside in a daybed attached to four posts with a clear view of the night sky. The stars were dull that night. It was perhaps the night when I understood Ace and I are more alike than I ever thought we were.
Have you ever looked at the sky? I mean, really looked at the sky and witnessed it for what it truly is. How can something so vast not mean anything at all? How can we go on with our lives without searching for more?
The answer is simple. We are all afraid. Afraid of what we might encounter in the process, afraid it might not be what we hoped for, afraid to leave the comfort of our minds to explore the endless possibilities of greater opportunities.
In a way, I felt that. The time I spent wishing to change the past could have been spent elsewhere. Every moment, every event led me to where I’m meant to be.
Thinking back on the memory now, it was clear what Ace was also trying to tell me that night. He was struggling to apologize for what he mindlessly took away from me. He was ready to face the consequences, and maybe somewhere in the back of my head, I knew. I just didn’t let myself form the connection. The answer was in front of me. It was right there directing me to acknowledge it, but I was afraid. Afraid that nothing would be the same again. But eventually, that moment came anyway. You can’t run from fate. It always finds you, and it doesn’t wait until you’re ready.
Jennifer seems pleased with the article I penned, or at least I assume she is. She hasn’t given me that look yet—the one where she narrows her eyes with her glasses tilted downward. She also unexpectedly permitted me to finish early today after telling her I’d be flying to see my dad this weekend.
Ace, too, has been busy with work, or so he said. He’s been distant ever since the FBI incident, and I wonder what’s going on that he’s not telling me about. The answer is evident in my head.
I don’t ask him about it for two reasons. One, I haven’t seen him since then, and two, I don’t ask him because I’m still hoping he’ll tell me himself. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking on my behalf.
It’s Friday afternoon, and I’m thrilled to see my dad. However, the thoughts of Ace, the FBI, and potentially telling my dad the truth about the accident during this trip home make me exceedingly unsettled to the point where I’m nauseous.
Denzel drives Mia and me to the airport. As we drive on the highway, the sun sets in front of us—a muddy crimson and orange. In a way, it appears like a flame, burning the world to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes—the night sky. The longer I stare at it, the deeper my thoughts go, subconsciously building a fire in my mind.
I’m an overthinker. Once I get a thought in my head, I allow it to spark alight like a blaze, infusing it with gas now and then until I convince myself a situation is ghastlier than it really is. I’ve been working on it with my therapist, striving to halt the never-ending cycle. It’s more complex than it seems.
Ace suggested we take his jet even though he already bought the tickets for me, but the flight is only one hour, and it would be unnecessary to use the jet, especially when the tickets are first class.
“Mr. Blackwell sends his apologies. He’s been held up at work,” Denzel informs me from the driver’s seat.
Ace told me he’d drive Mia and me, but I haven’t heard from him all day. I haven’t seen him since Wednesday morning when he drove me to work after spending the night together at his apartment. Everything appeared fine then, or as fine as it could be after discovering the FBI is after him.
Mia conveys me a look that reveals she thinks that’s bullshit, and a part of me knows she’s right. The other part wants to give Ace the benefit of the doubt. During the drive to the airport, I attempt to convince myself everything will be fine and focus on appreciating the moment. I haven’t told Mia everything about Ace. It’s not my secret to share.
Mia agreed to come home with me when I told her my dad is a fantastic cook and there’ll be a tower of food for my late birthday dinner. Food is a way into a woman’s heart.
Since being in New York, Mia has found a part-time job as a tattoo artist. She’s only been doing small shifts now and then, since she doesn’t officially start until next week. I’m proud and excited for Mia. This has been a dream of hers since college. I recall looking through her sketchbook for the first time back in college and being stunned by how realistic her artwork is.
When we land in my hometown, my dad and Nate are waiting for us outside. At first, I almost don’t recognize Nate. I haven’t seen him in a couple of years. The last few times I came down to see my dad, he wasn’t in town. He’s cut all his caramel locks and looks more grown-up, more mature.
Nate finished his college years and walked out with an engineering degree. Impressive right? On top of that, he graduated at the top of his class. Over the years, he’s worked at a few companies over the country, but his heart always brought him back here. He now owns a small mechanic workshop in town. Some people never want to leave home, and others, like me, will do anything to stray as far away as possible.
“Hey, Cals.” My dad greets me and engulfs me in a tight hug. My dad has never been the affectionate type, but I guess the years are turning him into a softie. He doesn’t appear much different, except that he’s lost some weight, and his hazel eyes have aged more than him.
“Hey, Dad, you’re still looking good. Decided to finally cut the late-night snacks, I see,” I joke.
He laughs. “The doc said I better start taking care of myself.”
“Cals, I haven’t seen you in so long.” Nate’s arms go around me next, and I return his hug while my dad greets Mia.
Nate’s shoulders are broader and more defined, like he’s been working out. He pulls away, taking the duffel bag I brought with me. I’m about to tell him I can carry it, but Nate’s sights set on Mia.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” he declares in a more sarcastic tone.
“Is that a problem?” Mia raises her neatly plucked brows to imply that if there’s a problem, he better get rid of it, and fast.
Nate takes the hint and raises his hands in front of him in a defensive manner. “No problem, boss.”
Mia offers him a tight-lipped smile, visibly not impressed with how he spoke to her. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of Mia. I can guarantee she’ll make you regret the day you were born.
I sit in the front seat of my dad’s Jeep, glad he finally chose to replace his old Holden Commodore. It was beginning to get unreliable, but Nate always made sure it wouldn’t break down. I’m grateful my dad has Nate. I want someone to be here to look after my dad, but it can’t ever be me. I can’t stay in this town for more than a few days. It holds everything I’ve been trying to forget.
Mia and Nate sit together in the back, and I pray Nate doesn’t say or do anything that will result in an argument or worse. It’s late, and I don’t have the energy for it, at least not today. Perhaps tomorrow.
It’s not long before we arrive at my childhood home. It’s dark, so I can’t distinguish much of the exterior, but the feeling of familiarity instantly washes over me. Nate says his goodbyes and tells me he’ll be here bright and early tomorrow. I appreciate his efforts not to hover.
I carry the duffel bag into my old bedroom, and Mia follows.
“I set up the spare room, if you want it, Mia. Instead of both of you cramming into Calla’s room,” my dad says behind us.
Mia and I look at each other, and it’s Mia who answers, “Thank you, but Calla and I have shared a lot more than a bed. I think it’ll be alright.”
The expression on my dad’s face makes my cheeks turn crimson. I offer him no explanation and swiftly head to my room, closing the door behind us and turning to Mia.
“I think my dad has the wrong idea about us after that.”
“Better than him knowing who you’re dating.” I know it’s supposed to be a joke, but my heart pounds in my chest when I think about the secret that I’ve been keeping from my dad for the last four years.
The following day, I’m awake before Mia. It’s early. Too early, but I’ve had one of my nightmares. I rise and tiptoe out of my room, closing the bedroom door behind me.
Walking down the hallway, I pause by a closed door. I twist the doorknob and walk into the small study. It’s exactly like I remember it. By the window, a small wooden desk is positioned against the wall. I gaze out into the backyard, and memories flood through me like a tsunami. The old, rusted swing is still there, unused and falling apart. So is the sandpit. I doubt it’s much of a sandpit anymore. The neighborhood cats have been using it as their toilet since I was in school.
My mom was a schoolteacher before she died. Her old books are still where she left them, untouched. Her stickers and stamps are in the second drawer. Her colorful pens rest in the blue plastic pen holder on the desk. I know my dad doesn’t have the heart to move them, nor does he want to. It serves as a memory, a small space where everything of hers remains. Some people visit their loved one’s graves to mourn, my dad and I visit this small room.
I sit at her old desk where she used to mark the students’ homework, running my hand over the wooden top, which acquired roughness over the years. The wall in front of me is a chalkboard, which still bears her writing on it from a few days before the crash. I stare at it.
“I miss her so much, Cals.”
My eyes snap up to his, and it’s the only indication that he startled me while I was in my thoughts. My dad leans against the doorframe, his significant figure making the room seem smaller.
“I know. I do, too.” I sigh.
“I’m sorry that we never talk about her. I’m not good at that stuff.”
I can’t hold it in any longer. Four years have already been too long. I’ve constantly attempted to avoid conversation about my mom, about the accident. I was always afraid I would say something I wasn’t supposed to.
I’m done with all the lies, all the secrets. They’re eating me alive.
I take a breath and look at my dad, witnessing the pain he still holds. He’s never remarried or even had another relationship. I can’t imagine what he’s felt over the years, living in this house that’s still filled with her. At least I moved out, moved on.
He hasn’t.
Before I change my mind, I allow the words to surface. “There’s something I need to tell you about the night of the accident.”
My dad shuffles closer and takes the seat across from me. His figure swallows the small chair I used to sit in when I was younger. It doesn’t look right, but nothing looks or feels right at this moment. I’ve been keeping a secret from him for the last four years. There were times—right after I learned about Ace being the drunk driver—that I avoided my dad altogether. I found excuses not to see him. I was afraid he’d look at me and instantly know. My paranoia and anxiety mixed into one.
My eyes drop to the desk as a way to calm myself. I focus on the calendar of 2010—the one my mom scribbled in. Her writing was immaculate, neat, and straight, the kind that all teachers have.
I sit straighter and force myself to talk before I have a change of mind. “I met a boy in college. He was my roommate. At first, we didn’t get along. I thought he was rude, arrogant, and had his head shoved up his ass.” For my dad to understand where I’m coming from, he needs to know the whole story—not just glimpses, not only the worst part.
“We were given an assignment that forced us to spend time together. Over the weeks that I got to know him, I discovered he wasn’t as bad as I thought. He was just broken, suffering for his past, trying to push everyone away. He has a little sister, and even in college, when he should have been focusing on himself and his future, he focused on his family and worried about how to support them when they were struggling”.
I inhale, and continue, “There were undeniable similarities between us, and I didn’t realize it back then, but he pulled me out of the most destructive place in my life.”
My dad listens without interrupting. His face is blank. He’s usually an open book, but now, I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Maybe because I’m nervous. God, I’m so freaking anxious that my hands begin to shake, and I place them in my lap, digging my nails into my palms, forcing myself to continue.
“The same night as the accident… Christmas Eve, his dad left them without an explanation, just packed a suitcase and left. Ace…” I speak his name in front of my dad for the first time. “Ace wasn’t thinking straight. He got drunk. He wasn’t in the right state of mind, and his best friend offered him the keys to a Chevy. He was on the same road when mom and I were coming home from Grandma’s house…” I let the rest speak for itself. There’s nothing more to say.
