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

Ace

The next few weeks passed in a blur. It was strange—how life could shift so much, how you could wake up in the same house, drink coffee from the same chipped mug, yet everything around you had changed.

Sierra and I hardly spoke unless it was about Karla.

We tiptoed around each other, both knowing the inevitable was drawing closer, neither brave enough to say it aloud.

But that Wednesday morning, fate no longer waited.

The courthouse was colder than I expected, with that sterile, hollow echo that only government buildings have.

Sierra sat across from me in a pale blue dress, her fingers nervously twisting the gold bracelet on her wrist. I remembered giving her that bracelet years ago, before everything fell apart—before our fathers pulled us back into a life neither of us wanted.

Our lawyers were speaking quietly, their pens tapping against the polished wood table. Sierra cleared her throat, her eyes flicking to me.

“Ace,” she whispered. “Are you sure?”

I met her eyes. God, we had been through so much. I saw the exhaustion in her face, the tired acceptance. “Yeah,” I murmured, my throat tight. “I’m sure.”

For a moment, she smiled. A sad, trembling thing. “Okay.”

When the papers slid in front of us, I gripped the pen so hard my knuckles went white. My hand hovered, just a second longer. Sierra reached over and squeezed my wrist gently.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “We’ll be okay.”

I swallowed hard, nodded, and signed.

The judge gave us a quiet, almost kind smile as she outlined the co-parenting plan. Sierra would have primary custody; I’d have weekends, holidays, and a flexible arrangement for vacations. We both agreed, because in the end, it wasn’t about us—it was about Karla.

Walking out of that courthouse, I felt… hollow. Like I’d just handed in the final chapter of a story I never wanted to write.

That afternoon, I packed my things. The house, once echoing with laughter and Karla’s tiny footsteps, was eerily silent.

My hands brushed over old memories—a framed picture of Karla’s third birthday, a card she’d made with stick figures that looked nothing like us but were precious all the same. I put it carefully in my bag.

When the car pulled up, Sierra came to the door holding Karla on her hip. Our daughter clung to her, her big brown eyes wide and confused.

“Daddy, why are you leaving?” Karla asked, her voice small, her little fingers twisting in Sierra’s hair.

I crouched down, forcing a smile I didn’t feel.

“Hey, peanut,” I whispered, smoothing her curls back.

“Daddy’s not leaving you, okay? I’m just…

living in a different house now. But you’ll come visit me all the time, and we’ll still have our ice cream Fridays.

And I’ll come see your ballet recitals, I promise. ”

Her lip wobbled. “But why can’t you stay?”

I felt a sharp pain in my chest, like someone was twisting a knife. I looked at Sierra helplessly. She knelt beside me, kissing Karla’s cheek. “Daddy and I both love you so much, baby. We just… we’re better as friends. But we’ll always be here for you, okay?”

Karla sniffled, burying her face in Sierra’s neck. I hugged them both, kissing the top of Karla’s head. “You’re my brave girl,” I whispered. “I love you to the moon and back.”

As I walked to the car, my hands trembled. I didn’t look back until I heard Karla’s tiny voice calling, “Daddy, wait!” She wriggled out of Sierra’s arms and ran to me, her arms flung wide.

I knelt and caught her, holding her so tight I thought I might break. She kissed my cheek. “Don’t forget ice cream Friday.”

I laughed wetly, my throat tight. “Never.”

When I finally pulled away, Sierra mouthed, thank you. I nodded, climbing into the car, heart in shreds.

.

The next morning, still unpacking in Montecito, I woke before sunrise. Boxes were everywhere, but I didn’t care. My mind was consumed with one thing.

Brittany.

I hadn’t heard her voice in years. Hadn’t seen her face. God, did she hate me? Had she moved on? Did she think of me at all?

I couldn’t take it anymore.

By eight a.m., I was outside Jasper and Corinne’s house. Jasper had already left for work. I rang the doorbell three times, heart hammering. Corinne opened the door, her blond hair a mess, a mug of coffee in one hand, her son Nathan peeking out from behind her legs.

“Ace?” she blinked in surprise. “It’s early. Everything okay?”

“I need to know where Brittany is,” I blurted. My voice cracked, my chest tight. “Please, Corinne. I—I can’t do this anymore. I need to find her.”

Corinne’s eyes softened, but her lips tightened. “Ace…”

I sank to my knees on her front step, scrubbing a hand over my face. “Corinne, please.” My voice broke on the last word. “I love her. I was a damn coward. I let everything—my father, the company, the marriage—bury what we had. I let her walk away, and it was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Nathan toddled forward, his little brow furrowed. “Why you crying, uncle Ace?”

I let out a wet laugh, dragging a shaky hand through my hair. “Because I’m a fool, buddy.”

Corinne crouched down beside me, sighing. She rested a hand on my shoulder. “You really love her?”

“With everything I have.” My voice shook. “I’d give up the company, the money, all of it, just to get one more chance with her.”

Corinne studied me for a long moment. Finally, she stood, walked inside, and came back with a slip of paper.

“She’s in Arkansas,” she murmured. “She’s living with our friend Sylvia from NCPH. Don’t waste this, Ace.”

I grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you so much.”

Nathan clapped his hands. “Yay! No more crying, mister!”

I chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You’re right, champ. No more crying.”

I sprinted to my car like a man on fire.

By noon, I was at the airport. I didn’t take the jet—I wanted something quieter, something that didn’t scream CEO on the run. I booked the next flight to Arkansas, barely remembering to text Sierra and my assistant.

“Going to Arkansas. Will explain later. Please kiss Karla for me"

Cancel my meetings—I’m on vacation.”

Sierra texted back almost immediately: “Go. Be happy.”

As I sat on the plane, waiting for takeoff, nerves tore through me. My leg bounced uncontrollably, my palms sweaty. The woman next to me gave me a wary glance, but I barely noticed.

My mind was on Brittany.

Would she slam the door in my face? Would she laugh at me? God, had she moved on—was there someone else holding her at night, someone she smiled at over coffee?

I ran a trembling hand over my face.

I remembered the way her laugh sounded when she teased me. The way she fit against me at night, her head tucked under my chin. The way her eyes sparkled when she was passionate about something, how fiercely she loved, how she called me out when I was being an ass.

I thought about the last time I’d seen her—her face crumpling as I told her goodbye, the way her shoulders shook when she walked away.

My stomach twisted.

The plane began to taxi down the runway, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Please, I thought. Let me fix this. Let me have one more chance.

As we lifted into the air, I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes.

I whispered to myself, so low no one else could hear: “I’m coming, Britt. I’m coming for you.”

And this time—I wasn’t letting go.