Page 23 of Ace's Legacy
This small, tidy space is mine—my sanctuary, my normal life—and being back feels like coming up for air after being underwater too long.
"I'll keep watch outside," Viper says. "Take your time."
I immediately head for my bedroom, pulling my suitcase from the closet.
"I need to pack quickly," I call over my shoulder to Ace, who's still standing in the living room, looking oddly out of place among my throw pillows and houseplants.
"Sarah, wait," he says, following me. "Viper says we've got time. We're safe here for now."
I pause, a stack of t-shirts in my hands. "I thought you said ten minutes, no exceptions."
"Change of plans." He leans against the doorframe, watching me. "Why don't we sit down for a minute? Actually talk without guns or Vultures MC or club business interrupting."
The suggestion surprises me. Since telling him about the pregnancy, we've barely had a moment of genuine calm to process what it means for us, for our future. Maybe he's right. We need this.
"Okay," I agree, setting down the clothes. "Let me just grab some water first."
In the kitchen, I fill two glasses and take a moment to collect my thoughts. What do I even want from this conversation? From him? The father of my child is a biker who lives in a world of violence I can barely comprehend. Yet there's something about him that draws me in, something beyond his handsome face and the memory of our night together.
When I return to the living room, Ace has settled on my small couch, looking absurdly large against my pastel throw pillows. I hand him a glass and sit at the other end, tucking one leg beneath me.
"So," he says after taking a sip.
"So," I repeat.
"I like your place," he offers. "It's very... you."
"How would you know what's 'me'?" The question isn't accusatory, just honest. "We spent one night together, Ryan."
"Ace," he corrects automatically, then seems to catch himself. "Though I guess here, outside the club, it is Ryan."
"Which do you prefer?"
He considers this, as if no one has ever asked him before. "Depends on the context. In the club, with my brothers, I'm Ace. It's who I am there, who I need to be." He pauses. "But with you... I don't know. Maybe Ryan makes more sense."
The admission feels significant somehow, like he's offering me access to a part of himself others don't see.
"That night," I say, deciding to dive right in, "at the diner after the bar fight. Why did you approach me?"
His green eyes meet mine directly. "Because you were beautiful. And you looked at me like I was a person, not just some dangerous biker to avoid or use for a thrill."
"Is that how most women see you?"
A shadow crosses his face. "Yeah, pretty much. Either they're scared of what I am, or they're turned on by it. Neither one has much to do with who I actually am."
I take a sip of water, considering his words. "And who are you, actually?"
"Still figuring that out," he admits. "Been Ace for so long now, sometimes I forget there was ever a Ryan."
"And which one sleeps with a different woman every week?" The question slips out before I can stop it, more pointed than I intended.
He winces but doesn't deny it. "That obvious, huh?"
"Reaper mentioned you have a... reputation."
"Of course he did." Ace—Ryan—runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not going to lie to you. Before you, there were others. A lot of others."
"I figured as much," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the twinge of jealousy I have no right to feel. "I wasn't exactly expecting you to be a monk."
