Page 9 of Sixty Days Of Summer

"From what we’ve gathered, Theo was driving when some asshole ran a red light," Ace says.

The tension in my body builds to an unbearable level, and I can no longer hold back the flood of emotions. A sob escapes my throat, shattering the mask of strength I’ve carefully crafted in front of Ace. Tears soak my cheeks, and I struggle to regaincontrol of my overwhelming emotions. All I can do now is hold on tightly to the hope that Nate and Theo will be okay.

“Hey,” Ace murmurs softly, his hand lightly touching my shoulder, giving it an awkward pat.

It’s clear that he’s struggling to find the right way to comfort me.

Chapter 4

Ace

Fuck. What the hell do I do now? I’m completely out of my depth here. My lame-ass attempt at patting her shoulder feels useless, like applying a bandaid on a bullet wound.

Damn, I’ve never been in a situation with a crying girl before—usually it’s just a casual fuck, no emotional baggage involved. Maybe I should call Poppy and see if she can tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do. Or do I just grab her suitcase and head to the car? But when she looks up at me with those broken eyes, something inside me shifts. It hits me hard, and I have no clue how to handle it.

Awkwardly, I keep patting her shoulder, my touch becoming clumsier and more foolish with each attempt.

She leans into me, her cheek resting against my chest, leaving me at a loss for what to do next. Slowly, I wrap my arms around her, feeling her warmth against me. Damn, her scent brings back vivid memories, and I’m praying my dick doesn’t get any ideas—now is definitely not the right moment. Besides, Xander would tear me apart if I fucked this up.

Despite the uncomfortable vibe, I set aside any distracting thoughts and concentrate on the present moment. Right now, all she wants is to be wrapped in someone’s embrace, and I’m trying like hell to be that person.

Just minutes ago, I was ready to lose my shit when I saw those fucking bruises on her face. The thought of someone laying a hand on her—Scarlet, the one who's always been a bright ray of sunshine—makes my blood boil. It pisses me off beyond words. One thing’s for sure: if I ever get the chance to come face-to-face with that bastard, he’s going to fucking pay for what he did.

As people move around us, a few recognize me, their curious glances making my skin crawl. Sometimes, flying under the radar has its perks. I’m not as front-and-center as Xander—his face is the one plastered across headlines, especially after the shitstorm with our old label. But when some guy walks by and casually lifts his phone to snap a photo, I feel the urge to tell him to fuck off. I can’t, though—not with Scarlet sobbing against my chest. I grit my teeth and swallow my anger, letting it slide for now.

Suddenly, Scarlet pulls back, wiping her eyes, like she’s just realized what she was doing. There’s a shift in the air between us, an unspoken line we've never crossed before. Every time we’ve been together, it’s always been nothing more than a casual hook-up. No emotions, no strings—just raw need and release. But now? This feels different.

"Sorry," she mutters, avoiding my gaze as she rummages through her bag. She pulls out a tissue and delicately dabs her eyes, followed by a gentle blow of her nose.

“You good?” I ask, though I already know the answer. I have never been skilled at providing comfort to others. My only desire is to reach the hospital, hoping that Poppy will be there to take over. I know I’m completely fucking this up, and it would be best if someone who actually knows what they’re doing takes over soon.

“Yeah,” she answers, her voice shaky as she tries to give me a smile. It’s strained, and I can’t help but glance at the bruises again.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing the handle of her suitcase.

Just as we start moving, some guy steps into my path. “Hey Ace, can I grab a quick photo?” he asks, holding up his phone like it’s no big deal.

“Sorry, man, I’m on a tight schedule,” I mutter, hastily dismissing him. The last thing I want is for a picture to start circulating at this moment, bringing even more attention. My only focus is getting Scarlet out of here and to the hospital.

Without giving him a chance to reply, I brush past him and head straight for the exit. I move fast, barely checking if Scarlet’s keeping up, though I can hear her quiet sniffles. Each one messing with my head, stirring up emotions I’d rather avoid.

The touch we shared earlier, one meant for comfort, now lingers in my mind, stirring up filthy thoughts I shouldn’t entertain about her—especially not now, with Nate and Theo’s situation weighing over us.

I’m aware I need to keep my distance, but the temptation to fuck her again is nagging at me. Those two nights we spent together still fucking haunt me. The way she moaned as I buried my cock deep inside her, how she surrendered to the pleasure,screaming my name. Fuck, it was insane. But I need to push those memories aside. She’s Nate’s little sister, and no matter how badly I want her, I can’t let myself cross that line again.

As we reach the car, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s most likely a text from Xander, but I resist the urge to check it right away. If it’s more bad news, I can’t let Scarlet see my reaction.

I open the passenger door for her, and as she slides inside, I catch a whiff of her perfume and it fucks with my head. I make my way to the back, opening the trunk, and tossing her suitcase inside. With the trunk lid acting as a barrier, I retrieve my phone. Unlocking the screen, I feel my gut tighten, preparing for the unknown message that awaits.

Xander:It’s fucking bad, Ace. Theo’s okay, but he’s a mess. Nate’s in rough shape. Have you picked up Scarlet yet?

I swiftly tap away at the keys, typing out my response.

Ace:Yeah, just picked her up and told her about the accident. What should I say about Nate?

As I wait, the tight knot in my stomach intensifies with each passing second.

Xander:Tell her they’re preparing him for surgery. It’s serious.

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