Page 10 of The Wreckage Of Us (US #2)

Ace

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, the shrill sound slicing through the early morning quiet of my apartment.

I groaned, rolling over, expecting some work email or another meaningless notification. But when I blinked at the screen, my breath hitched.

Brittany.

My heart jolted so hard it nearly burst out of my chest. For a second, I just stared at her name, my thumb hovering over the green button like I was afraid the call might vanish.

Then, without thinking, I swiped to answer.

“Britt?” My voice was rough with sleep, but the second her soft voice came through, every nerve in my body snapped awake.

“Hi, Ace…” she murmured, almost shy, like she wasn’t sure if she should’ve called.

“Hey, hey,” I sat up quickly, running a hand through my hair. “Everything okay?”

There was a pause on the other end, the sound of her shaky breath filling the line. “Um… I need your help.”

My pulse roared in my ears. “Anything,” I blurted. “Name it.”

She let out a small, nervous laugh. “It’s… stupid, probably. I’ve been trying to fix the cabinet under the sink all morning — it’s leaking everywhere, and I can’t get the pipe to tighten. And the plumber can’t come till tomorrow, and I—”

“Say no more,” I cut in, already swinging my legs off the bed. “I’m on my way.”

She hesitated. “Ace, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” I said softly. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

A tiny breath. “Okay.”

By the time she hung up, I was already yanking on jeans and a soft black hoodie, not even bothering to style my hair.

My heart thudded in anticipation the entire drive to her apartment, knuckles tight around the wheel.

It wasn’t about the leaky pipe — I knew that.

It was the fact that she called me. She wanted me there. And God, that was everything.

When Brittany opened the door, the sight of her nearly knocked the air from my lungs. She was in a soft, oversized sweater, bare feet on the hardwood, hair still damp from a shower. She looked tired, vulnerable, beautiful.

“Hey,” I breathed, stepping inside. “Where’s this rebellious pipe?”

She let out a small, self-deprecating laugh and led me to the kitchen, pointing to the puddle beneath the sink. “I think it hates me.”

I grinned, kneeling to take a look. “Nah. It just needed a little charm.”

While I worked, Brittany sat cross-legged on the floor beside me, watching with a bemused smile. We fell into easy conversation, her laughter filling the room like a melody I hadn’t realized I’d been starving for.

When I finally twisted the last bolt and wiped my hands on a rag, I glanced over at her. “All set.”

She beamed at me, eyes shining. “You’re my hero.”

I smirked, standing and stretching. “Well, a hero’s gotta eat. How about I cook us dinner?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You cook?”

I winked. “I’m full of surprises, sweetheart.”

While I rummaged through her fridge, pulling out pasta, veggies, and some chicken, Brittany perched on the counter, watching me with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“So,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “Where’s Sylvia tonight?”

Brittany blinked, surprised. “You… know Sylvia?”

I shrugged, chopping bell peppers with practiced ease. “We’ve crossed paths.”

Her lips twitched. “That’s unexpected.”

I chuckled. “Hey, I’m not as antisocial as you think.”

“She’s at the university tonight,” Brittany murmured, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “One of her students is going through a rough time — something about family problems, grades slipping. She offered to stay on campus with them, help them sort it out.”

I glanced over, surprised by the warmth in her voice. “That’s… really good of her.”

Brittany smiled softly. “Yeah. That’s Sylvia. She always goes the extra mile.”

I stirred the sauce, feeling a strange pang of respect for this woman I barely knew. “Sounds like she’s a solid friend.”

“She is,” Brittany said quietly, her eyes distant for a moment. “She’s been there through some… really dark patches.”

I hesitated, heart squeezing. “I’m sorry you had to go through those without me.”

Her gaze flicked to mine, something unreadable passing between us — a flicker of old hurt, maybe, or longing, or both.

I cleared my throat, offering a small grin. “But hey, at least now you’ve got a guy who can fix your plumbing and make a killer carbonara.”

Brittany laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, eyes softening. “But you’re smiling.”

We ate dinner on the couch, plates balanced on our knees, laughing over stupid stories — the time I nearly set the dorm kitchen on fire, her disastrous attempt at baking cupcakes for a fundraiser.

For a little while, it felt like the weight of everything between us lifted, just enough for us to breathe.

But eventually, the night had to end.

I stood by the door, slipping on my jacket, my heart a bittersweet knot in my chest. “Thanks for dinner,” Brittany said softly, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Anytime.” I smiled, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. “Really.”

I turned, reaching for the doorknob.

“Ace?”

Her voice was so soft I almost missed it.

I froze, heartbeat kicking up.

When I turned back, Brittany was standing just a few feet away, eyes wide, hands wringing nervously in front of her.

“I was thinking…” She licked her lips, voice trembling. “Maybe we could… start as friends?”

For a second, I just stared at her, the words not quite registering.

Then they hit me all at once.

My chest tightened, a strange, giddy warmth flooding through me. My face split into the most ridiculous grin, and before I could stop myself, a laugh burst out of me — not mocking, not sarcastic, but pure, unfiltered joy.

“Yeah,” I breathed, stepping closer, hands jammed into my jacket pockets to stop them from shaking. “Yeah, Britt. I’d like that.”

Her lips curved into the softest smile, her eyes glistening. “Okay.”

I took a slow, shaky breath, forcing myself to turn, to walk out, to not ruin the moment by doing something stupid like kissing her right there.

As the door clicked shut behind me, I leaned against it for a second, exhaling hard.

Then I practically floated down the hallway, my feet barely touching the ground, grinning like an idiot as I made my way to the rental car parked at the curb.

Sliding behind the wheel, I let my head fall back against the seat, closing my eyes for a moment. My chest was still tight, but for the first time in months, it wasn’t from pain. It was from hope.

Hope.

God, it tasted sweet.

As I drove away, the city lights flickering past my window, I caught myself humming under my breath, tapping the steering wheel, smiling at nothing like a man completely drunk on the tiniest scrap of a second chance.

And maybe that’s exactly what I was.