Page 111 of The Wreckage Of Us
Chapter 43
Ace
Morning light filters through the curtains, washing the room in pale gold. I lie in bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling as Karla’s soft voice drifts from her room.
“Daddy! Daddy, where are you?”
I force myself up, shaking off the heaviness in my chest. My body feels heavy, but not from lack of sleep — from the weight of five years of longing, of mistakes, of regret that never fades.
I push open her door, and Karla beams at me from the middle of her messy bed, her stuffed bunny crushed to her chest. “Pancakes, Daddy!”
I chuckle softly, ruffling her curly hair. “Alright, princess. Pancakes it is.”
We move through the morning in a rhythm I know by heart. Batter sizzling on the stove. Tiny feet running through the kitchen. Her laughter, the only music I still let into my life.
After breakfast, we head to the park — Karla tugging at my hand, her pink sneakers lighting up with each step. She darts toward the swings, shrieking with joy, while I settle on the bench, watching her with a hollow ache in my chest.
This should be enough. It should be.
But nothing fills the space Brittany left behind.
I catch myself wondering — does she still braid her hair over her shoulder? Does she still wrinkle her nose when she laughs? Does she ever think of me?
I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away. No point, Ace. She’s gone. And you broke it all.
When the afternoon sun softens, we head to Jasper’s house. Karla hums a made-up tune in the backseat, swinging her feet as I drive. My chest tightens as we pull into the driveway.
Jasper’s house is chaotic, like always — kids’ bikes strewn across the lawn, toys peeking from the hedges, a stray shoe on the porch.
The moment I step out, the front door bursts open.
“Ace!” Jasper grins, stepping outside with Nathan clinging to his leg and Astrid tugging his sleeve. “Man, you’re late. Corinne’s been waiting for Karla.”
Karla runs into the house, squealing as Astrid pulls her inside. I laugh under my breath, shaking my head.
Inside, Corinne greets me with a hug. “She’s been dying to see the kids,” she says with a smile. “You sure you’re okay leaving her here for a bit?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I could use the quiet.”
Jasper claps a hand on my shoulder. “Come out back, man. Beer?”
We sit on the back deck, cold bottles sweating in our hands, the sound of kids playing drifting through the screen door.
“So…” Jasper leans back, stretching his legs out. “Guess who Corinne finally convinced to come to the Ashford annual gala?”
I take a slow sip of beer, my stomach tightening. “Who?”
“Brit,” he says casually, like he’s talking about the weather. “Brittany’s flying in tomorrow. Corinne’s been on her ass for months, and she finally caved.”
The bottle slips slightly in my hand.
My heart slams against my ribs, a wild, reckless drumbeat.
Brittany. Here. In LA.
I try to keep my voice steady, but it comes out rough. “That’s… that’s great. For the family.”
“Yeah, man,” Jasper laughs, unaware of the storm breaking loose in my chest. “Been forever since we had her here. She’s always off modeling, doing her thing. It’s about time.”
