Chapter 24

I went back into the house, about to head upstairs to my room. That’s when the first cramp hit me just as I closed the door behind me. A sharp, twisting ache curled low in my stomach, making me suck in a breath and place a hand instinctively over my belly. I paused in the hallway, gripping the doorframe for support, and then another wave rolled through me, dull but insistent.

Oh, no.

I knew that feeling all too well.

I rushed to my room and into the bathroom, practically stumbling as another cramp pulled at me. My heart thudded in my chest as I tugged at my dress, lowering it quickly before lowering myself onto the toilet seat. The sight confirmed it.

My flow had started.

I closed my eyes for a moment, exhaling shakily, annoyance washing over me. Of all times, why now? My body seemed to have no consideration for where I was, who I was with, or the complicated mess my life had become.

I stood up, wiping carefully before rummaging through the cabinet. Relief washed over me when I found a pack of pads tucked neatly at the back of the shelf. Someone, maybe Mary, had thought ahead. I whispered a silent thank you to whoever had placed them there, tore the wrapper quickly, and adjusted the pad in place.

The cramps lingered, faint but nagging, so I turned the shower on again. The warm spray cascaded over me, and I tilted my head back, letting it wash the faint clamminess from my skin. Steam fogged the mirror, cocooning me in a hazy warmth.

By the time I stepped out, wrapped in a towel, I felt calmer. Tired, but calmer. I dressed properly for the situation. I wore a soft cotton underwear, loose shorts, and a shirt I’d stolen from Scott’s drawer. It still smelled faintly of him, and I hugged it closer as I walked back into the bedroom.

I sank into the bed, the sheets cool against my legs. Curling onto my side, I pressed my knees slightly upward, easing the ache in my abdomen. My eyelids felt heavy. The morning had drained me, the airport goodbye, the car ride, the confrontation with Ace still gnawed at the corners of my mind. And now this.

Before long, I drifted off.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before the sound of knocks stirred me.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I groaned softly, tugging the sheet over my head. Whoever it was, I didn’t want to talk. If I stayed quiet, they’d go away.

But the knocks didn’t stop. They grew softer, more insistent, like the person knew I was inside, resisting.

I held my breath, willing silence back into the room.

Then the creak of the door reached my ears.

My heart stuttered.

The hinges groaned quietly as the door eased open, slow, deliberate. I stiffened under the sheet, every nerve alert. A click followed. It was the sound of the lock sliding into place.

Footsteps padded across the floor, unhurried but sure. The air shifted near me, a warm presence drawing closer. Then a hand touched me.

Not rough, but soft and deliberate. Fingers trailing across my arm, tracing the curve of my skin. My breath hitched involuntarily.

A voice whispered my name, low and husky.

“Sabrina…”

My eyes flew open. I shifted just enough to see him.

Ace.

His figure loomed over me, dark hair slightly messy, eyes shadowed by the dim light filtering through the curtains. He leaned down, his hand brushing my hair aside as he lowered his mouth to the curve of my neck. His lips were warm, firm, lingering far too long.

“Ace,” I gasped, jerking slightly. The sheet tangled around my legs as I pushed up onto my elbows. “Stop.”

He straightened, watching me with unreadable eyes. For a moment, silence stretched. It felt charged and heavy. Then he moved forward again, leaning in as though to kiss me.

I twisted my face away, his lips grazing my cheek instead. My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Don’t,” I whispered, more firmly this time.

His jaw flexed. Then, to my surprise, he exhaled and sat back slightly. “I’m sorry.”

I blinked at him, caught off guard.

“For what I said the other day,” he clarified, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting mine again. “About… my father not loving you. And for speaking about your dad.”

The sting of those words resurfaced, but I shook my head. “It’s all good.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet, almost softer than I’d ever heard it.

I pulled my knees up, hugging them loosely. “Still… I can’t kiss you.”

He frowned, confusion flickering across his face. “Why not?”

Heat crept to my cheeks. I hesitated before admitting, “Because I know I won’t be able to control myself from wanting more. And I can’t. Not now.”

His brow furrowed. “Not now?”

I lowered my gaze, embarrassed. “I… I’m on my period.”

For a moment, silence. Then Ace laughed. A short, genuine laugh that startled me.

My head snapped up, narrowing my eyes. “What’s funny?”

His grin widened slightly. “It means you’re not pregnant.”

The seriousness in his tone mixed with the humor in his eyes made me huff out a laugh of my own, despite myself. The tension cracked, just a little.

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss lightly against my forehead. The gesture was unexpectedly tender, sending a shiver down my spine.

“So,” he murmured, “I’m going to have to hold myself for at least a week? Am I right?”

I rolled my eyes, though a smile tugged at my lips. “Three days. My flow doesn’t last long.”

That made him grin, wide and wolfish, as though he’d just been given good news.

He tilted his head, studying me. “Are you in pain?”

I hesitated before nodding. “A little. Cramps.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Wait here.”

I frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To get you something,” he said simply, standing and heading toward the door. “Drugs, chocolate, whatever else helps. Don’t move.”

I watched him leave, my chest tightening with something I couldn’t quite name.

No smirk. No cutting remark. Just quiet determination.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the faint ache in my belly and a heavier ache in my heart.