Page 130 of The Wreckage Of Us
We stayed like that for a long time.
When Sylvia finally pulled back, she cupped my face in her hands, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re stronger than you think, Brittany . You always have been.”
As she left the room, closing the door gently behind her, I was left in the quiet again.
But it didn’t feel quite so crushing.
I sat there in the fading light, my hands clasped together, my heart aching — but this time, there was a flicker of something beneath the pain.
Maybe forgiveness wasn’t as far away as I thought.
Chapter 52
Ace
I’d been standing outside Brittany’s apartment for nearly twenty minutes, pacing back and forth like an idiot with a bouquet of lilies clenched tightly in my fist. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat louder than the next, drowning out every rational thought I tried to string together.
My palms were sweaty. My throat dry. My heart — shattered.
For the past few days, she hadn’t returned my calls, my texts, or the flowers I sent. Hell, I wouldn’t have blamed her if she blocked my number. I deserved it.
But tonight, I couldn’t walk away. Not anymore.
I took a shaky breath, ran a hand through my hair, and raised my fist to knock. My knuckles hovered just above the wood.
God, please… just open the door.
Before I could chicken out, I knocked. Once, twice, three times — sharp taps that echoed in the quiet hallway.
No sound from inside.
My chest tightened. I knocked again, softer this time. “Britt… please,” I murmured, pressing my forehead to the door. “Please open up.”
For a few moments, there was only silence. Then… the faint click of the lock. The door creaked open an inch.
And there she was.
Brittany.
Her eyes were red, the skin beneath them puffy, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun like she hadn’t slept in days. My heart clenched at the sight of her. She looked like she was barely holding it together. And the truth was, neither was I.
I held up the lilies, swallowing hard. “Hi,” I rasped, my voice raw.
She stared at me, her lips trembling, her arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to hold herself in place.
“Ace,” she whispered, almost like she didn’t believe I was real.
“I… I brought these for you.” My fingers fumbled with the ribbon on the bouquet, my heart pounding so loud I was sure she could hear it. “You always said lilies reminded you of your mom.”
For a second, something flickered in her eyes — pain, maybe, or softness — but it was gone just as fast.
“I can’t… I can’t do this right now,” she murmured, starting to close the door.
Panic shot through me.
“Wait!” I stepped forward, my hand pressing against the door, voice cracking. “Please, Britt. Please just—don’t shut me out. Not yet.”
She hesitated.
