Page 3 of The Wreckage Of Us (US #2)

Ace

I can’t feel my fingers. They’ve been numb since the moment I stepped off the plane.

Arkansas air hits me in the face as I push out of the airport, thick and heavy, like it knows I shouldn’t be here. The cab ride is a blur — I barely register the driver’s chatter or the radio murmuring in the background. All I hear is my heartbeat, pounding out a panicked rhythm in my ears.

Brittany.

Her name has been a prayer on my lips since Corinne handed me that damned address, scribbled in shaky handwriting on a napkin. Corinne had looked at me with something like pity, like she knew I was walking into a storm I wouldn’t survive.

“She’s not the same girl you left behind,” she’d warned softly, arms crossed, eyes sharp. “You don’t get to just show up and expect her to fall into your arms, Ace.”

I had nodded like a fool, pretending I understood. But sitting in this cab now, clutching that crumpled napkin, I realize — I don’t understand anything at all.

When the cab pulls up to Pine Ridge Apartments, my chest constricts so tight I think I’m about to pass out.

The buildings are faded yellow with chipped paint, wind chimes clinking softly from balconies.

Kids’ bikes are scattered on the lawn. It’s…

small. Modest. And yet, it feels like the most unreachable place on earth.

I climb the steps slowly, each footstep a war against myself. My fist hovers in the air at her door.

Knock.

Nothing.

Knock, knock.

Still nothing.

I’m about to turn away when the door swings open — and there she is.

Brittany.

She’s barefoot, in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. Her face is bare, no makeup, no effort — and she’s never looked more beautiful. But there’s a sharpness to her now, a hardness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

The trash bag in her hand drops to the floor with a soft thud.

“Ace?” she says, breathless — but not the way I hoped. Not soft, not longing. Shocked. Unsteady.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My heart is trying to climb out of my chest.

She steps back, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Britt—” I swallow hard. “I needed to see you. Please, just—can I talk to you?”

Her laugh is sharp, brittle. “Talk to me? Now you want to talk to me?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Where was this sudden urge when you left me breaking into pieces on the floor of our apartment? Where was this when I called and you ignored me for days, weeks?”

I flinch. “I was wrong—”

“Damn right you were wrong!” Her voice cracks, and I see the shimmer of tears in her eyes, though she blinks them back fiercely. “You don’t get to stand here, Ace. You don’t get to show up like some tragic hero and expect me to open the door.”

The hallway feels too narrow, the air thick between us. My mouth is dry as I force the words out. “I left Sierra. I… I signed the papers. I ended it. I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Brittany lets out a shaky breath, pressing her hands to her forehead. “Jesus Christ,” she whispers. “Do you think that fixes this? Do you think that magically erases everything you put me through?”

“I don’t—no, I just—”

She cuts me off with a sharp shake of her head.

“Do you even know what you did to me, Ace?” Her voice breaks, trembling now.

“I spent months in a hospital learning how to exist without you. I had to learn how to breathe, how to stand, how to stop waking up screaming your name. And when I finally—finally—got to a place where I could eat without shaking, laugh without guilt, you think you can just… walk back in?”

My legs buckle, and I lean heavily against the wall. “I know I broke you, Britt. I know.” My voice is hoarse. “But I’m here to fix it. I’ll do anything.”

For a long, searing moment, she just stares at me.

Then she laughs softly — but there’s no joy in it. “You’re here to fix it?” she echoes. “Ace, I’m not a project you can patch up. I’m not your redemption arc.”

The door creaks open behind her, and Sylvia steps into view, arms crossed, protective. “You okay, B?” she asks quietly.

Brittany glances over her shoulder, her face crumpling for a split second. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Want me to stay?”

“No. I got this.”

Sylvia throws me a look sharp enough to slice bone before slipping back inside.

Brittany blows out a breath, arms wrapping around herself. “Look,” she says, voice quieter now, “I get it. Maybe you realized you love me. Maybe you even mean it. But that’s not enough, Ace. Love isn’t enough when the person you love is the one who shattered you.”

I take a step forward. “I was scared,” I whisper. “Scared of how much you mattered. Scared of messing it up. But, Britt, I need you.”

She holds up a hand, backing away. “Don’t you dare say you need me. I am not your drug, Ace.” Her voice wavers. “I can’t be the thing you run to every time you’re lost.”

Tears burn in my eyes, and I’m not sure I’ve ever hated myself more. “Please,” I choke out. “Please tell me there’s still a chance.”

Brittany leans against the doorframe, exhaustion settling into her bones. “You want honesty?” She meets my eyes, raw and unflinching. “I still love you. God help me, I probably always will.”

My heart leaps, but she cuts it down with a single word:

“But.”

“But I don’t trust you,” she whispers. “And I don’t know if I ever will again You broke my heart years ago. You brought my fears and nightmares to life,you bullied me when I needed you the most,yet I still returned to you. Only for you to destroy me.”

The silence between us is a living thing, heavy and suffocating.

“I'm so sorry……please “

“I can wait,” I whisper. “I can prove it.”

She shakes her head, tears slipping free now, glistening tracks down her cheeks. “Ace… you should have proved it before you lost me.”

My knees buckle, and I sink to the step. She stands over me, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding in all the pieces I broke.

“I’m not slamming the door in your face,” she says softly. “But I’m not letting you in, either.”

I nod, swallowing down the scream clawing at my throat. “Okay,” I croak. “Okay.”

She kneels in front of me, just for a moment, and brushes her fingers along my jaw — a whisper of the girl I once knew.

“I hope you figure yourself out, Ace,” she murmurs. “But don’t make me your finish line. It's been fun”

And then she’s gone. The door clicks softly shut behind her, and I’m left sitting on the cold concrete steps, staring at the sky that never looked so empty.