Chapter 25

The ache in my belly hadn’t eased. If anything, lying in bed made me more aware of it. I curled tighter into myself, pressing the pillow against my stomach, hoping the pressure would help. My eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door clicking softly.

It was Ace.

He stepped inside with a small bag dangling from one hand. His expression was calm and unreadable, as usual. He set the bag down on the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of water, a blister pack of painkillers, and a bar of chocolate.

“Here,” he said simply.

I blinked, propping myself up slowly on my elbows. “You actually… got them.”

He gave me a look, half amused, half annoyed. “What did you think, that I’d lie?”

“I thought you’d get distracted,” I admitted honestly.

He shook his head, tearing open the painkillers. “You’re not that easy to forget.”

Heat prickled across my cheeks. I took the pill he offered, his fingers brushing mine briefly, then reached for the water. But he tilted the bottle toward me himself, holding it as though I was incapable of lifting it.

“I can drink on my own,” I protested.

“I know,” he said, unbothered. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Reluctantly, I let him tip the water to my lips. His eyes never left mine, and for some reason, the act felt far more intimate than it should have. When I swallowed, he smiled faintly, like he was satisfied, then he set the bottle down.

“Good girl.”

The words sent a strange shiver through me, and I quickly reached for the chocolate to distract myself. But Ace was faster. He tore the wrapper open and broke off a square, holding it in front of my lips.

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Seriously,” he echoed, smirking.

I rolled my eyes but parted my lips anyway. The chocolate melted on my tongue, rich and sweet, and I tried not to focus on the way his gaze lingered as though he’d fed me something forbidden.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little,” I admitted.

“Then have more.” He fed me another piece, then another. By the fourth, I swatted his hand away.

“You’re going to make me sick.”

“Or you’ll thank me later,” he countered easily, leaning back in the chair he’d dragged closer to the bed.

Both of us went silent for a few seconds as the room was filled only by the sound of my breathing evening out. The painkillers had begun to dull the cramps, or maybe it was just his presence distracting me.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I said quietly.

He shrugged. “I wanted to.”

That was all. He didn’t smirk, didn’t make any cocky remark. He was just honest. That made something flutter uneasily in my chest.

So, I shifted against the pillow, trying to lighten the mood. “So, do you make it a habit to take care of women in bed?”

His lips curved slowly. “Well... only the ones I like.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible, Ace.”

“And you’re stubborn, Sabrina,” he shot back.

“Stubborn? Me?”

“You didn’t want to take the pill at first, didn’t want me to feed you, didn’t want me to help at all. You act like you don’t need anyone, but the truth is…” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You like it when someone does.”

I froze, caught off guard by how close to the truth he’d struck. My instinct was to deny it, but the words stuck in my throat.

Instead, I said, “And what about you? You act like you don’t care about anyone, but you’re here, aren’t you?”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable flashing across his face. “Touché.”

We stared at each other for a moment before laughter broke the tension.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s call it even.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out casually. “So, since we’re apparently stuck here, how about we actually talk? Ask me something.”

I arched a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything at all. Surprise me.”

I thought for a moment. “Okay. What’s your favorite color?”

He groaned. “That’s your question? Really?”

“You said anything.”

He smirked. “Black.”

“Of course it is.” I rolled my eyes. “You look like the type who only owns black shirts.”

“Not true,” he said. “I have white and dark grey ones too.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That doesn’t count.”

He gestured at me. “Your turn.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Predictable,” he teased.

“It’s calming,” I defended. “Not everything has to be dark and broody.”

He tilted his head, studying me. “Yeah, you do look like someone who’d chase peace.”

I ignored the way his words settled in my chest and quickly asked, “Okay, next question. Do you have a dream car?”

“Already have it,” he said smugly.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“The black one you saw earlier.”

“The one you almost drove off in when I stopped you?”

“That’s the one.”

I shook my head, smiling faintly. “Show-off.”

“Your turn again,” he said, grinning.

And so, it went. We exchanged questions like kids playing a game, though the answers sometimes dug deeper than either of us expected. Favorite food. Favorite music. Whether we preferred city life or quiet escapes.

Then the conversation slowed, and his gaze dropped, voice quieter. “About earlier.”

I stiffened slightly, remembering the sting of his words, the way mine had cut just as deep.

“I know I’ve apologized about this, but I shouldn’t have brought up your father,” he said. His tone was low and sounded regretful. “That was out of line.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “And I shouldn’t have mentioned your mother. That was cruel.”

His expression softened completely. There was no sarcasm or sharpness. Just raw honesty. “Apology accepted.”

“Same here,” I whispered.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was warm, forgiving.

He leaned forward again, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “See? We can survive without trying to kill each other.”

I smiled faintly. “Barely.”

His thumb lingered near my temple before dropping away. “Get some rest. The pills will kick in soon.”

I nodded, sinking deeper into the pillow. My body felt heavy, drowsy. But before my eyes closed, I caught his gaze still on me, softer than I’d ever seen it.

And so, I wondered if maybe Ace was going to be more impossible to resist as he’s dangerous to my heart and body, now that Scott was gone.