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Lex grabs at Ace’s hand, tries to free himself.

But Ace…

Ace is in another fucking world.

And there’s no one around to stop him.

Except for me.

I don’t pull my ice close, don’t fuel the fire. Just me walks forward and settles my hand on the middle of Ace’s back.

“Honey,” I whisper.

Lex grins, rasps out, “The whole world is going to know what you are.”

“A bitch?” I ask. “A whore? A woman who works hard to make a living and loves your brother for who he is? A woman who’s been hurt and made mistakes and learned from them?” I slowly slide my hand up, trailing it over Ace’s shoulder, along his arm, gently resting my fingers on the backs of his, coaxing him to loosen his hold before he chokes out his brother. “Whatever the whole world sees, that will be better than you are.”

“What’s g-going on?” Joan asks.

I close my eyes. Brace.

But Ace explains for me. “Lex filmed Violet and I having sex and sent it to her brothers⁠—”

“Half-brothers,” I correct quietly.

Ace’s eyes come to mine, and his hand finally opens, sending Lex tumbling down to the floor. “Half-brothers,” he amends.

“But why”—Joan’s eyes dart between Ace and me—“why would he do that?”

That I don’t know.

Don’t understand.

But apparently, Beck has put the pieces together.

“Because TJ Conrad just joined the roster of the Rattlers.” The team that Lex plays for.

I suck in a breath.

Ace looks ready to commit murder all over again.

“My half-brothers hate me,” I explain to Joan. “I’m the product of an affair between our dad and my mom. Things aren’t…pleasant between us.” Ace’s fingers find mine, squeeze. “And Ace and I didn’t have a traditional start to our relationship⁠—”

“Because it’s fake,” Lex spits out. “I heard you say as much, so don’t even try to lie about it.”

“Maybe it started that way.” I shift, make sure I meet Ace’s eyes when I say, “But it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with him. Two days in to what was supposed to be a mutually beneficial business arrangement and I was gone for him.”

He touches my cheek and I exhale, relief pouring through me.

Because his eyes aren’t full of hurt and rage and frost when he looks at me.

They’re soft.

Gentle.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“Later,” he whispers back.