***Ace's POV***
I didn't want to think. I didn't want to remember.
But that was hard when you were surrounded by silence that your mind was desperate to fill. My thoughts were trying to drag up memories of my family, and I curled up into a small ball on my bed, fighting them off the best I could.
My door swung open and I uncurled myself, tensing up, ready for Jack to be standing there. After what I'd done, I knew it was only a matter of time before he showed up.
But it wasn't Jack standing there. It was Ike, still in his work uniform and with a Dunkin' Donuts drink still steaming in his hand.
"Here," he said, coming over and holding it out to me.
I stared at the drink suspiciously. What was Ike up to? No one around here just did nice things.
Ike let out an unnecessarily long sigh. "Ace, it's not poison. It's just coffee."
He set it on my dresser and moved back towards my bedroom door. He stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder at me.
"You don't have work today, right?" he said.
"Well, you did buy me a drink first," I said, winking at him. "Yes big boy, I'm free tonight."
"The day I degrade myself with someone like you is the day I beg for death. We're making dinner early." He shut my door, disappearing from sight.
I grabbed the drink off of my dresser, blew on it to cool it down, and took an experimental sip. It was coffee with a flavor shot of Irish crème, my favorite that I rarely ever had due to the cheap way we lived.
I mentally groaned as I took another swallow. What did Ike want from me? Was he giving me this to make up for something he had done? I couldn't remember us really fighting recently.
I shrugged it off and downed the rest of the drink. I got up and went downstairs, hearing people talking in the kitchen. I needed to keep my mind away from thoughts of Jack or my past before I went crazy.
Ike, Christian, and Jer were moving around the kitchen, grumbling at each other as they bumped into each other, trying to make dinner. I could smell something slightly burnt and realized that they weren't making pasta.
"No pasta? Pigs are flying," I said, dropping into a chair at the table. I kicked my feet up on the table and crossed my arms over my chest as I watched them scurry around like confused ants.
"My grandfather went to a dinner last night with his friend's family. They gave him a ton of leftovers, and he said he'd never be able to eat them all on his own. So, he gave some of them to me," Christian said, opening the oven to check on whatever was burning.
"Christian, you can't just turn the temperature up to cook it faster," Ike said in annoyance, shoving Christian away and pressing some buttons on the oven. "You're going to ruin the food."
"Jer, what the hell are you doing?" I asked.
"I don't fucking know. My parents are drug addicts, you asshole. We lived off of frozen dinners," Jer snapped, slamming down the carton of milk he'd been haphazardly pouring into some of the leftovers. "Shit, you do it. You're the one who works at a fucking restaurant."
I stood up and snatched the milk from him, inspecting the bowl of food he'd been pouring it into. I fixed the amount and mixed it, setting it in the oven.
"There, now there's enough that it won't dry out the food," I said.
"I'm surprised none of us ever starved to death," Ike said, leaning against the counter.
"Or set the house on fire and burned to death. Oh, wait," I said. I snickered as Ike punched me in the arm.
We talked and joked around and teased each other as we continued to cook. When the food was ready, we set it out at the table and sat down, filling our plates, our mouths watering at the sight of the rare feast.
"Tell your grandfather we said thanks," Ike said as he took a bite.
"He wanted to cook it for us, but I didn't want to bring you all to his house. His house is small," Christian said. "Plus, he'd have a heart attack if he heard half the words that come out of Jer's mouth."
"Go fuck yourself with a sledgehammer, Whiting," Jer said.
"Example A," Christian said, gesturing to Jer. Jer pleasantly held up his middle finger.
"Class isn't exactly Jer's style," I reminded.
"Oh, look who's talking," Ike said.
"I never said it was my style either," I said, smirking.
Jer flicked a piece of Mac and cheese at me. "Shove it, asshole."
"I think Christian is the only one of us with any class," Ike said.
"He is a prince amongst peasants," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I have to have class at my job," Christian said. "Besides, unlike you three, my grandparents raised me with manners."
"Oh please, I have manners. I just don't use them," I said. My father beat manners right into me- sometimes literally.
"Your maturity is astounding," Ike said.
"Young forever," I said, taking a bite of the food.
We continued to joke around as we ate. When we were done, I went outside onto the front porch with a glass of water in my hands.
I sat on the edge of the porch, legs dangling between the railings. It was starting to get dark out, stars peeking through in the sky and a crescent moon growing brighter as the world darkened.
The door creaked open and then Jer stepped out, papers in his arms. He sat down in his usual chair, not saying a word to me. He laid out his papers in front of him and began to work on them, whatever they were.
I watched a ladybug as it crawled slowly along the ground towards me. I held my finger out to it, letting it climb on, a light tickle against my skin.
It moved along my finger until it was settled into my palm. I gently nudged it back to the tip of my finger and eased it back onto the porch, remembering the way my father would help me catch ladybugs in the house and release them outside. He always told me it was bad luck to kill a ladybug.
"Oh, what the hell," Jer snarled.
I looked up from the ladybug as Jack's car pulled into the driveway. My stomach dropped, as if I had tipped too far back in a chair and was about to fall.
But I'd known he'd show up eventually, so I composed my face into a careful, unbothered expression. Jack wouldn't know how much I'd hated what I'd done.
Jack got out of the car and walked towards the porch with an easy stride, though his shoulders were tense. He climbed the steps and leaned against the railing, pulling his off his hat to run his hand through the mane of red hair.
"Ace, we should talk alone," he said.
"Jer likes drama," I said.
"Like hell I do." Jer stood up with his papers in his arms. He shot a glare at Jack. "Don't piss me off."
He went into the house, kicking the door shut and leaving Jack and I alone on the porch. Jack clenched his fists as he glared at me.
"You're one hell of a sick fuck," he said. "How could you..." He took a deep breath. "You hurt Delaney. You did it on purpose. God, I wish I never met you."
"I bet your mom wished she'd never even had you."
I kept my expression composed as my dad's words came back to me. Words he'd yelled at me when discovered that mom had left us for good.
"You were an idiot to trust me. You're the one who kept saying Delaney shouldn't," I said, shrugging.
"You're human, Ace. You're sick and twisted and irreparable, but you're human. You hurt. And I hope to god you're hurting right now, because you deserve it. Delaney doesn't deserve to be hurt right now, but you do," Jack said. He looked away from me, out at the night sky as the moon grew brighter. "It's not that I tricked myself into trusting you. It's that I opened myself up to the possibility. You wanted a chance and I offered it to you. I wasn't blind to the things you do, I just tried to give you a chance to show that there was more to you than guerilla warfare. All you do is hurt people and run and hide to avoid the consequences."
"Should've kept that in mind when we started tonguing. I don't believe in happy endings. People like me? We don't get to date and fall in love," I said. "I have survival to focus on."
"Surviving and living are different things," Jack said. "What's the point of surviving if you're not living? You have nothing to hold onto. You start tying ropes and then cut them because you're afraid someone else will do it if you don't. But how do you plan to climb out of the grave you've dug if you cut all the ropes?"
"I've been dealt my hand. I make the best of the cards I've got," I said, spreading my hands wide. "Sorry Jack, but you're not in my deck."
"You can't blame this on me. You know what, Ace? You're emotionally abusive. You're manipulative. You're becoming a monster and blaming it on other people. You have all these feelings tangled inside of yourself and you're too much of a coward to face them. You're traumatized but trauma isn't a free pass to inflict that pain on other people." He turned his gaze back to me, and it was cold and angry. "You can blame others all you want, but I hope to god the guilt kills you when you lie alone at night."
I stood up and gripped his shirt, yanking him close to me. "I don't feel guilty about a damn thing, Jackass." That feeling in my stomach was back with a vengeance. I thought of my family, I thought of every word and blow I'd endured for 16 years. "I made a game of you and I'll make a game of someone else. I could hurt Delaney because I never cared about him. I could hurt you because I never cared about you."
"You're a shitty liar," Jack said.
"I'm not lying." A dark smirk curved my lips. "I'm glad I met you. You and your pathetic friend killed my boredom for quite a while. You talked about hobbies. This is mine."
I released him and shoved him backwards. I moved towards the front door, wanting to be away from him.
Jack reached out and caught my arm, not letting go when I attempted to pull away from him. He forced me to meet his eyes, blazing with emotions.
"Ace," he said, his voice calm despite the storm in his eyes. "You can say whatever you want, but I know you. I know you cared. I know you get angry when you don't know what you're feeling. I know you're angry now because you regret what you did, at least a little. You're not protecting yourself. You're just feeding the monster that's killing you inside. You have to face what you ran from five years ago, or else you might as well stop trying to crawl out of the grave."
"I'm not some 16 year old kid anymore," I snapped. "I'm 21 now and I'm bigger than that coward of a kid you saw on a damn missing poster. I ran away to free myself."
"You can break out of prison and still wear handcuffs," Jack said. He released my arm, letting his hands fall to his sides. "No one can help you if you run away from them. Making others the predator only makes you more of the prey."
"We were never going to date, Jack. You killed time for me," I said coldly.
"Then I wasted time and money. I'm young and I can earn my money back. What about you, Ace?" The fight was gone in him. He just watched me now, back to the dry humored kid I'd first met at the bar. "When the dust settles, where are you standing?"
"On my own two feet, just like always," I said.
"When you break your leg, you use a crutch. Not because you're too weak to stand on your own, but because you need help until you're healed," Jack said.
I knocked my fist against my thigh. "Good thing nothing's broken."
"You're broken," he said. "And you're not letting yourself heal."
Jack sighed and held out his hand to me, meeting my eyes. "You wanted a chance."
I wanted to take his hand. I wanted a crutch to lean on so my legs could rest and whatever was broken could have time to heal.
But I didn't get the luxury of rest. If I took time to catch my breath, the demon I'd been running from would catch up to me.
"I wanted entertainment. And that's exactly what I got," I said.
I turned and went into the house, shutting the door. I leaned against it and closed my eyes, because Jack knew where to find me anytime he wanted to. I couldn't run and hide from him. I couldn't keep myself hidden away from Jack.
I opened my eyes as I heard footsteps on the stairs. I looked up as Jer leaned against the wall, papers tucked under his arm.
"Out of my way. I'm going back out there," he said.
I stepped aside and he grabbed the door handle. He paused before turning to glare at me.
"When I turned 16, I found my dad crying in the kitchen because he never taught me how to drive a car. I had to teach myself how to do everything, because my folks were so doped up all the time. It's shitty learning to rely on other people," he said, yanking the door open and stepping outside. "Lean on the wrong person, and you'll fall hard when they walk away."
He shut the door, trapping me in the silent hell of my own thoughts. This was Jack's fault, though. He knew damn well what I was like, but he got involved with me anyways. He had no one to blame but himself.
I did this, this is my fault, I hurt him and I hurt Delaney and I hurt Alexis and Micah and it was me, me, me, I'm turning into my father, I'll look in the mirror and see Alan Brooks, not Ace Foley, I won't be me anymore, I'll wear his smile as I tighten the noose around the neck of anyone I care about, there isn't love, there's only control, there's only control, there's only control
I gripped my head and sank down, squeezing my eyes shut. Broken, broken, broken. I needed to fix myself before I came undone and I couldn't do it alone anymore. I was tired of fighting this all alone.
But when I looked outside, Jack was already gone.