by Alice Ward
Me: Yes.
Fuck! I wish I could be more assertive like Whitney. She would’ve had no problem telling him to keep his ass away from her front door. Not me. I’m too nice. Sure, crash my party.
Just one movie, I decided firmly.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Holly
I opened the door before Jack had a chance to knock. He was grinning from ear to ear, holding a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a bottle of flavored vodka in the other. “I thought you’d probably have wine, so I thought I’d bring something a bit different.” He extended the banana vodka to me, then the flowers.
“Thank you, Jack.” I motioned for him to come inside and closed the door as he stood in my living room, looking around like he was inside a home décor magazine. “Let me get these in some water.” I carried the flowers to the kitchen and found a wine carafe under the sink. Filling it with water, I trimmed the ends of the stems before arranging them.
They were beautiful and he was so sweet and thoughtful, even though banana vodka sounded pretty gross.
“Did you decorate this, or did Whitney?” he asked, looking around.
“Whitney did. She’s very talented.” She truly was, both interior and exterior, which was exceedingly rare.
“You want wine, or are you up for trying this banana stuff?”
“Let’s try the vodka. I love banana, so thought I’d give it a shot.” He leaned against the kitchen doorframe. “I really love what she’s done. I need her to decorate my new place.”
I poured us each a shot of the flavored vodka. It was actually really good, but seconds after it hit my stomach, it tried to force its way back up.
“You okay?” he asked as I worked to keep it down.
“Yeah, but I better stop at just one.” I poured him another and put on the kettle for tea. “I feel like I’m getting an ulcer or something. Stomach wants to give me trouble lately.”
“That sucks. My dad had an ulcer and…” I listened to him ramble on about the types of therapies his father had gone through before finding some relief. “One of my cousin’s esophagus burst because all the acid burned through it. So if it doesn’t get better, be sure to get it checked out.”
I smiled at him, appreciating his concern. “I will.”
“Okay, so where’s the chick flicks?” he asked, way too eagerly for any man.
I set down my mug and walked through the hall to the bedroom to flip through the stack of DVDs. Jack was standing in the doorway, the smile on his face even wider than earlier.
“This is cozy.”
“Yes.”
“If you were planning on watching movies by the fire in the big comfy bed, I don’t want to change your plans.”
I turned to him, unsure what to say. I wished that I was attracted to Jack, I wished that the thought of him being in my bed brought butterflies to my stomach, but they didn’t. Which was exactly why I was a totally fucked up woman.
Was my dysfunction so great that I couldn’t enjoy having a man treat me nice?
Did I thrive on drama in a way that made me pathetic?
Did I, deep down, not believe I deserved to be loved?
What was wrong with me?
I just didn’t know.
“Do you care if we watch it in here?” he asked, bringing me out of my mental self-flagellation. “I really would like to hear the crackling of a fire before it gets too warm to enjoy it.”
I hesitated for only a moment. “Sure.” He was harmless enough. He was almost like having a girlfriend, a very handsome girlfriend.
After going through the movies, we decided on Eat, Pray, Love. I knew everyone had already read the book twice and seen the movie five times, but I hadn’t had time. First school, then cakes, then Ace. It felt like I hadn’t had a moment to myself in years.
The fire was crackling happily when we piled onto the bed, my mug in my hands, his bottle of vodka in his. As the movie progressed, we ended up sitting closer together, then his hand was on my leg, rubbing it in soft strokes.
It wasn’t long before he rolled over and kissed me. It was soft, too soft. I needed aggression.
No.
I needed to throw up.
Scrambling from the bed, I ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, almost not making it to the toilet in time. I heaved until all that was left was bile that burned my throat.
“Holly, you okay?”
I stood up from the cool tile and splashed water on my face. Finally, I opened the door to a concerned looking Jack.
“I’m sorry. Do you mind leaving? I really don’t feel very good.”
He nodded. “I can see that. Can I bring you anything? Do anything?”
I gave him a watery smile. “No, but thank you.”
When the door closed behind him, I sagged back onto my bed in relief before grabbing my pillow, holding it close and falling asleep.
***
Bees were buzzing around my head, and I tried to slap them away, but they wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t leave me alone. My eyes fluttered open, and I realized it wasn’t bees at all, but my phone.
Squinting at the screen, my heart gave a hard thump when I saw Ace’s face looking back at me.
“Hello?”
“Hey, darlin’. You sound sleepy.”
Just hearing his voice made my body tingle and I curled into a ball to make it stop.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Well, that’s why I’m calling.” He sounded sad.
“Have you spoken to your sister?”
“Yes. The old man isn’t supposed to last but a couple more days. Coach agreed to let me take off and say my goodbyes properly.” He sighed, the sound carrying the weight of the world.
“When are we going?”
I heard the sound of him swallowing hard. “You still want to go?” He sounded surprised. Relieved. Grateful.
“Yes, I still want to go.”
He swallowed hard again. “If it’s okay, we need to leave in the morning. I realize it’s short notice and all, and that’s my fault, I—”
“Shhh,” I soothed him. “How long will we be gone? Do you think we’ll be staying long enough for the funeral?”
“I guess that depends on the old man,” he said with a bitter laugh. “He never did like to make things easy or convenient for me, or anyone for that matter.”
“I’ll be ready,” I said. “Just text me the details.”
“Th-thank you, Holly,” he stammered. “It means a lot that you’d be there.”
We hung up, and I pulled the pillow to my chest again, watching the fire crackling, sharing its warmth and light. I fell back asleep and dreamed of Ace.
***
“Holly!”
I opened my eyes to find Whitney standing over me. I sat up. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t look pleased. “Ace is here. He said he was picking you up?”
I shot straight up in bed, panic seizing me. “Oh my God. I overslept.” I jumped out of bed and started scurrying around, tossing this and that into a suitcase.
“And where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.
I stopped, realizing I was acting like a crazy person.
“Remember the promise I made to him about going with him to visit his father?”
Whitney’s face softened, but only a little bit. “So you’re going?”
“Yes, he called me last night. He woke me up, and I fell back to sleep before setting my alarm.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked.
“Yes. No.” I exhaled hard. “I don’t know. But I promised, and I can’t let him down.” My eyes implored her. “Please, tell him I need twenty minutes.”
Her nose wrinkled, but she nodded. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and pulled my hair into a smooth ponytail. I found a comfortable outfit for the drive, packed a few casual outfits, a few dressier ones, and one black dress for the funeral, just in case.
Ace was
sitting at the kitchen table with Calvin as I walked in, rolling the suitcase behind me.
“Sorry, I overslept.” I apologized for making him wait.
His eyes were darker than normal and solemn, his demeanor strangely humble. “Not a problem, Holly.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed the bile that seemed permanently lodged in my throat and nodded.
He stood from the table and shook Calvin’s hand before smiling at Whitney. She didn’t make much effort to smile back.
I hugged Calvin, then forced a hug on Whitney. “Be careful,” she warned.
I was going to the man’s childhood home to help him say goodbye to his dying father. It wasn’t like there would be a huge sexual tension in the air.
Ace took my bag and shoved it into the back of his Porsche. He pulled away, thanked me again for being there, and headed down the highway.
I’d forgotten that his father lived so close, but the ride to Cold Springs, his hometown, was just under two hours. It was nostalgic and filled with a wide mixture of lower and upper middle-class homes. It was a clean city, beautiful really. I tried to picture Ace growing up here as a kid as we passed a park, a middle school, and beautiful views of the Hudson.
We pulled up to a little white house. The siding was aged, but the yard perfectly manicured to match the neighbors. He got out, opened my door, and then leaned against the car for a moment before offering to take me inside.
“Little Ace!” A dark haired woman stood in the open doorway. He didn’t act overly excited to see her, or her him.
“Holly, this is my sister, Eve. Eve, this is my friend, Holly.” Ace introduced us with little emotion or enthusiasm.
She forced her lips into a tiny smile, her eyes dropping to my shoes and back up again. It was obvious that Ace either didn’t bring girls home or brought too many. Either way, she didn’t appear too happy that I was there.
“Come inside.” She waved us in. Just inside the door, she stopped us, placing a hand on her brother’s arm. “It’s bad, Ace. He can barely breathe and all hospice can do is keep him comfortable.”
Ace reached for my hand, and I threaded my fingers through his. “How long?”
Eve shrugged. “A day. Maybe two.”
Inside the little house, pictures lined almost every inch of the walls. I got my first glimpse of young Ace, starting at birth all the way up until now. He was a hot little shit. Even at a young age, his grin was smeared all over his face, displaying some of the attitude that he had now. It wasn’t taught. He was obviously born with it.
“Hey, Ace.” A large man, wide, not tall, walked down the stairs.
Ace’s fingers tightened on mine. “Brady, this is my friend, Holly. Holly, this is my older brother, Brady,” Ace said with even less enthusiasm than when introducing his sister.
“You should go on up,” Brady said, jerking his chin to the second floor.
Giving me a small smile, Ace led me up the stairs. Pictures of Ace from little league to the major leagues lined the long hallways. I peeked into a room that I assumed to be Ace’s. It had shelves with baseball trophies crowded tightly together. We stopped outside the last door on the right. Ace gripped both my hands, leaned in, and pressed his forehead against mine.
“I don’t think I could do this without you,” he whispered.
He pushed open the door. It was hard to imagine the frail man in the hospital bed as being the tyrant Ace spoke of. This man had thinning black hair that clung to his skeletal face that was so crinkled from the sun there wasn’t a smooth spot to be seen.
His lips were bluish from the lack of oxygen, even with the tank in use. As I watched, Ace leaned over and kissed the old man on the forehead. “Hi, Dad. It’s me. Ace.”
I covered my mouth, to hold back the sob that wanted to escape when Ace reached for the old man’s hand.
His dad didn’t respond at all. No flinch, no twitch, not even a movement around the eyes or mouth. He looked like he was already gone and just waiting for his organs to give completely out.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I whirled around to see Eve standing in the doorway, her hands on her meaty hips. “If you’re going to ask him for forgiveness, you need to do it now, while he still might be able to hear you. Go ahead, tell him you’re sorry for being such a pathetic bastard of a son.”
I gasped, unable to believe what she was saying to him, but Ace didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Just continued to hold his dad’s hand.
Eve stepped into the room. “Well, aren’t you going to apologize for disappearing off the face of the earth? For not coming home until he was practically in a coma?”
Her voice was getting louder the closer she got to the bed. Furious, I stepped in front of her, stopping her from getting closer to Ace.
“Leave him alone,” I told her through gritted teeth. “How dare you say such things.”
She looked down her nose at me. “I suggest you step out of the way, little girl. Aren’t you a little young for Ace anyway? Have you even graduated high school?”
My fists clenched at my sides, and I was a second away from slugging this horrible woman when strong hands came down on my shoulders.
“We should go,” Ace said, and Eve grinned in what appeared to be triumph.
“Yeah, that’s what I expected,” she spat. “Five minutes in and then you could consider your duties met.”
“Get out,” I yelled, surprising myself. Surprising her. I pointed to the door. “Get out and leave him alone.” I took a step toward her, forcing her backward. “Now!”
Red-faced, Eve turned on her heel and slammed the door with a loud whack. I was breathing hard, my heart pounding as I tried to control the rage that was still sweeping through me at that horrible woman.
“Ace?”
I turned at the same time Ace did, looking to the bed where the old man was lying. His eyes were still closed, but this time, his hand was lifted like he was feeling for something in the air.
Ace looked at me, and I gave him a gentle smile, urging him to go back to his father’s side.
“Yeah, Dad. It’s me,” he said, taking the man’s hand. The tiniest smile spread across the wrinkled features.
“You… get… World… Series?” The words were labored, each seeming to weight a million pounds.
“Not yet, Dad. Almost made it last year. Gonna try again this season.”
His rummy eyes opened, closed, then opened again. “You… played… good.”
Ace looked up at me, tears sparkling in his eyes.
“Thanks, Dad. You taught me well.”
“Too… hard… regret.”
“Nah. No regrets, Dad. You hear me? I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to make things right.”
“Hard… headed.”
Ace laughed. “Yeah, I’ve always been a stubborn son of a bitch.”
His dad shook his head the tiniest amount. “No… me. Proud of… you. Son.”
Tears spilled over, trailing down Ace’s face. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll do my best to keep making you proud.”
The old man nodded almost imperceptibly and closed his eyes. I found myself holding my breath, waiting for him to open them again. It seems like hours passed as we sat there, Ace telling his sleeping father story after story of his adventures. I found myself laughing at some of the things he’d done, rolling my eyes at others.
“I don’t think he’s going to wake up again,” he said to me after a while.
I nodded. I didn’t think he would either.
Ace stood up and leaned over to kiss his dad’s forehead again. Then he took my hand and led me to the door.
“Ace?”
We stopped and turned back to the bed. “Yeah, Dad?”
“Don’t… fuck… up.”
***
We ended up staying another hour, waiting to see if his dad would wake up again, but he didn’t.
“I’m kinda glad,” Ace said, “You have to admit, that was a pretty good parting shot.”
Tension built in my shoulders as we stepped out of the room and headed back downstairs where his brother and sister were waiting.
“You can have your old room, Ace,” Eve said and glared at me. “But not her. Mom wouldn’t like you fucking your whores in her house.”
Ace stiffened beside me and I laid a hand on his arm and whispered, “Don’t.”
“No worries. We’ve made other accommodations,” he told her.
Eve scoffed. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”
Brady jumped in on the attack on Ace. “Yeah. Let him go. He’s too much of a big shot to stay here in this crap house with his loser family.”
“I wasn’t planning on leaving right this minute,” Ace said calmly. “I thought we’d have dinner, sit and share stories about mom and dad, each other. But, I think we will go now. Thanks for the grand welcome. At least now you see why I don’t come home.”
Ace tugged on my hand, squeezing like it was a stress ball as we exited the house.
“Dad always idolized you, and you wouldn’t give him the time of day. You’re a piece of shit son, Ace,” Brady yelled out the front door.
Ace turned. “You know what, Brady? You sound just like dad. Idolized me? Yeah, suck my dick. Nothing I ever did was good enough for that old man up there, and I guess I just gave up trying. So why don’t you go home to the house I pay for, driving that truck that… oh yeah, I paid for.”
Brady opened his mouth but ended up just sputtering and waving his hands.
“That’s what I thought,” Ace said. “Glad to know I’m good enough for you to cash my check.”
Ace opened my door and helped me inside before getting behind the wheel. The car roared to life, and in seconds, we were flying up the road.
“I’m really sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be. They were in the wrong,” I assured him.
His smile was weak and worn, but it was the most sincere smile I’d ever seen from Ace Newman. My heart strings were being tugged by this adventure. That short glimpse into the lifetime of pain he’d endured was enlightening.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Holly
We pulled into the parking lot of a nice chain hotel that fit into the quaint atmosphere of the town. Ace got out of the car and walked to my side, opening the door and letting me out. “Sorry it’s not the Ritz,” he said with a smirk.
