Page 39 of Until Ace

Her head tilts at the last part. “How did you know about my ankle?”

“You’ve been rotating that foot all night when you thought I couldn’t see, and a moment ago, you were limping slightly,” I explain.

Her eyes go round as saucers. “You’ve noticed I rotated my foot?”

I shrug. “I notice everything about you.”

Her eyes close slowly, and then she drops her head on my chest. There, she murmurs the sweetest words. “I notice everything about you too.”

* * *

After drinking a few more shots, I guide Mandy to my bedroom, give her one of my well-worn T-shirts, then leave her there to get some sleep.

I lie in bed in the spare bedroom, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out who of the usual players decided to give a gambler a reprieve by putting the debt on his sister.

I draw a blank. Something just doesn't add up.

Why is the person a mystery to Mandy?

Loan sharks usually make themselves known in an effort to instill fear in their prey to get the money back.

And why break into her apartment without an approach in person first?

The questions plague my mind, but no answers comes to me.

Most importantly, what the fuck has her brother involved himself in?

My gut keeps warning me something bigger is in play, but I can’t see it just yet.

“Think,” I snap at myself, rubbing my forehead, when a light touch on my shoulder surprise me.

“I'm… I'm…,” a hushed voice stutters. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Mandy?” I interrupt her.

“I don't want to be alone tonight,” she admits, standing beside the bed, wringing her hands together, and looking everywhere but at me.

Without a second thought, and to do what I know down to my soul I would until the end of my days—to give her what she needs—I throw the covers back and extend my hand. “C’mere.”

She stands there a second longer, as if she isn’t sure what to do next, before she takes a deep breath and releases it slowly.

Only then does she cautiously get in the bed.

Through all this, I don’t say anything. I don’t even move.

My palms itch to touch her skin, to yank her to me and mold her body to mine.

But her fear is saturating the room, and I don’t want to spook her more and drive her away.

It takes time, but eventually she relaxes, then she turns on her side to face me.

“Thank you,” she whispers, but those two words carry weight beyond simple gratitude.

“You don’t have to thank me for lying in bed with you,” I say. “In fact, you don’t ever have to thank me for anything at all.”

She gives me a sad smile before slicing my heart in half. “No one has ever shown me so much kindness as you have tonight.”

Jesus Christ.