But crap, I’m just feeling so vulnerable right now. And so damn weak.
“Yara?” Ace touches my arm, and I’m so caught up in my own thoughts, I jump.
“Shit,” he curses softly. “I’m sorry, Tink. I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine. My mind was just wandering.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me towards him. After a long look, he frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I insist. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not—shit. Of course you’re not. After last night, and?—”
“I’m fine,” I repeat more forcefully. Anger surges inexplicably.
“Yara.” Sorrow shadows Ace’s gaze. “What can I do?”
“Nothing,” I manage. Ducking my head, I blink hard against the tears welling up. “You know, I’m kind of tired. Maybe I should take a nap. And you can go back to your apartment for a while instead of babysitting me. I’m sure you’d like some time alone.”
“Babysitting? I’m not babysitting you. Why would you say that? And I don’t need time alone? What?—”
“Go back to your own apartment, Ace. I’ll just”—my voice cracks—“clean up. Take a shower or a bath or something. Call in to work.”
“Work? Now?” Ace puts his finger beneath my chin and tips it up so I have to look at him. There’s a moment when I think about fighting him on it, but I quickly decide that would be childish and unnecessary. After all, it’s not like Ace did anything wrong. I’m just feeling overly emotional and exhausted and taking it out on him.
“Tink.” Lines crease his forehead. “Are you crying?”
“No.”
To prove me a liar, something hot and wet runs down my cheek.
“You are.” He brushes the stupid tear away with his thumb. “I knew the tour was too much.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his phone. “I’m calling Indy. I want to have him take a look at you. If you need something stronger, we know someone who’s a PA. She can do a virtual consult. Or?—”
“Don’t call Indy. I don’t need to see him. I’m not in pain. Or… it’s not that bad. I just…”
My throat stops up.
Everything I’ve been shoving down deep—the fear, the shame, the disappointment—comes surging forward. And with them, a storm of tears.
“Yara.” It’s rough. Desperate. “Talk to me.Please.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Just—” Another crack. “I…”
Just as he did last night, Ace scoops me up and into his arms. And I’m too tired to do anything but sag against him. He carries me to the couch, sits down, and sets me on his lap. “Talk to me, Tink. If it’s not the pain, what is it? Are you having a panic attack? A flashback?”
“No.” Dropping my gaze to my lap, I blurt, “I don’t want to be alone.”
“But you’re not,” he replies, sounding confused.
“Tonight. When you’re gone. And I’m alone with my nightmares and I keep seeing his face, telling me how much hehates me. How he blames me for everything. How he thought about killing me for years.” Lifting my head, I add miserably, “He said that’s what got him through. The thought of torturing me. Killing me.”
His arms tighten around me. A low curse slips out. “Shit. I thought you’d want your space. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Stop saying you’re fine,” Ace snaps. “You’re not fine. No one would be fine after what you went through. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Not to me.”
“He called me a traitor,” I whisper. “A traitor. He said I didn’t care about anyone but myself.” More tears spill down my cheeks. My voice wobbles. “He said I didn’t care about Malik. I… God, Ace. I still think about it. Every day. Wondering if I could have done something to save him. I asked. I bargained. I…”