Chapter 27: Ace's fist slams into the goalpost at Lee's words, blood smearing the metal as her breath comes in ragged bursts. 'She's better off,' she snarls, but her eyes betray her when Lee reveals CC's been sleeping in Ace's stolen jersey, the fabric crusted with dried tears and the scent of her frantic masturbation.
The predawn air bit sharp and clean, slicing through Ace’s thin workout shirt as she slammed the soccer ball against the chain-link fence surrounding the empty field. Thwack. It rebounded hard, skittering across the dew-slicked grass. She chased it down, her cleats tearing divots in the damp earth, the rhythmic crunch-thud-crunch-thud of her sprinting steps the only sound besides her own ragged breathing. Thwack. Again. Aiming lower this time, putting her shoulder into the kick, the impact vibrating up her leg. The ball rocketed back, faster.
She didn’t stop. Didn’t think. Just ran, trapped the ball with a brutal stomp, pivoted, and launched it again. Thwack. Over and over. Each kick was a purge. The sickening crack of the basement table leg snapping under CC’s weight. The choked gasp when her fingers plunged deep. The raw, bitten scream muffled against the bookshelf. The horrifying vulnerability in CC’s tear-streaked eyes afterwards, as Ace knelt, cleaning wounds she had inflicted with hands that trembled. The silence that followed, thick and suffocating, before CC had fled her room without a word.
Thwack. The ball slammed into the fence near the top, rattling the metal violently. Ace swore, low and guttural, chasing the rebound. Her lungs burned. Muscles screamed. Sweat plastered her dark hair to her temples despite the chill. She needed the burn, the exhaustion, anything to drown out the images replaying behind her eyes: CC’s pale skin marked by her teeth, her throat, her knees. The way she’d flinched when Ace moved too fast afterwards. The fucking silence.
She trapped the ball again, spinning it under her cleat, preparing for another savage kick. The rising sun painted the eastern sky in streaks of bruised orange and pale gold, glinting off the wet grass. The distant hum of the waking city felt irrelevant, miles away.
"Jesus, Walker. Trying to murder the fence, or just exorcise some demons?"
Ace froze, foot poised over the ball. She didn’t turn immediately, catching her breath, shoulders heaving. Lee stood at the edge of the field, just inside the open gate, holding two steaming paper cups. He looked unfairly awake, bundled in a thick hoodie, his breath misting in the cold air. His usual playful smirk was absent, replaced by a watchful concern.
"Demons," Ace rasped, finally turning to face him. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, the movement jerky. "What are you doing here? It’s fucking dawn."
"Couldn’t sleep," Lee shrugged, walking onto the field. The wet grass soaked the cuffs of his jeans instantly. "Figured I’d find you here, trying to kick a hole in reality. Brought reinforcements." He held out one of the cups. "Double espresso. Figured you’d need jet fuel after whatever workout you’re punishing yourself with."
Ace hesitated, then stalked over, taking the cup. The heat seared her chilled fingers. She took a scalding gulp, the bitterness sharp and welcome. "Thanks." She avoided his eyes, staring past him at the glowing horizon.
Lee sipped his own drink, watching her. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant chirp of waking birds. Ace shifted, the adrenaline fading, leaving behind a hollow ache deep in her bones, worse than any muscle fatigue.
"So," Lee said finally, his voice softer. "How bad is it?"
Ace stiffened. "What?"
"You. CC. The fallout from... whatever the hell happened after I left." He gestured vaguely back towards the dorms. "The vibe was Chernobyl-level toxic when I walked away. And CC..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang.
Ace’s grip tightened on the coffee cup. "What about CC?" Her voice was flat, deliberately devoid of inflection.
Lee met her gaze squarely. "She hasn’t left her dorm room in three days, Ace. Not for class. Not for food. Maya’s been bringing her trays like she’s quarantined. She’s…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Gutted. Looks like she hasn’t slept. Barely speaks."
Ace felt the words like physical blows. Three days. Trapped. Gutted. She looked down, kicking absently at a clump of wet grass. The image of CC curled up in her own dorm bed, silent and broken, slammed into her. Her doing. All of it. The possessive fury, the public humiliation, the private violence… and the pathetic, belated attempt at cleaning up the mess. It hadn’t fixed anything. It had just made CC flee. "Fuck," she breathed, the word barely audible.
"Yeah. Fuck," Lee echoed. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving her face. "She’s fucking miserable without you, dumbass."
The casualness of the statement, the brutal truth wrapped in Lee’s characteristic bluntness, cracked something open inside Ace. The carefully constructed wall of exertion and caffeine-fueled numbness crumbled. She squeezed her eyes shut, the image of CC’s tear-streaked face, bruised and vulnerable in the lamplight, overwhelming her. The raw sound of her choked sobs during that punishing climax against the bookshelf echoed in her memory, twisted now with the knowledge of CC’s current isolation.
"She shouldn’t be," Ace forced out, her voice thick, strained. "After what I… what I did? Downstairs? And then… upstairs?" She couldn’t bring herself to detail it, the shame was a physical weight crushing her chest. "She should be running fucking screaming. Not hiding." She opened her eyes, staring at Lee with a desperation she couldn’t hide. "She should hate me."
Lee sighed, a long, weary sound. "Maybe she should. But she doesn’t. That’s the messy part, Ace." He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower, more intense. "Look, I wasn’t there for the encore, but I saw enough downstairs to know it wasn’t… gentle. And I saw her face when she left your room. She looked wrecked. Physically. Emotionally. But miserable without you? That’s different than hating you." He shook his head. "She’s confused. Scared shitless, probably. Questioning everything she thought she knew about herself, about you… hell, about what she even wants. But she’s not answering her door for anyone but Maya. She’s not answering your calls, is she?"
Ace flinched. She hadn’t dared call. Hadn’t known what the fuck to say. "No."
"Exactly." Lee jabbed a finger towards her. "She’s hiding, yeah. But she’s not running away. Not yet. She’s… processing. And whatever she’s processing? You’re fucking central to it. The good, the bad, the terrifyingly possessive, the violently apologetic… all of it." He took a deep breath. "She’s miserable without you. That means something. Something big. And fragile. And probably terrifying for her."
Ace stared at him, the truth of his words sinking in, cold and heavy. CC wasn't gone. She was wounded, hiding, but still tethered. The realization didn't bring relief. It brought a fresh wave of dread, sharper than any physical pain. What did she do with that? How the fuck did she fix this? The apology in her dorm room felt pathetic now, insufficient against the scale of the damage. The brutal possession, the raw claiming… it had been real, undeniable. So had the violence. So had the fear she’d seen in CC’s eyes. How did those pieces fit? Could they?
She looked down at her hands – the hands that had pinned CC, invaded her, bruised her, then cleaned her wounds with trembling gentleness. The hands that wanted to hold her again, to protect her… from everything, including herself. The contradiction was paralyzing.
Lee watched the internal storm play out on her face. He finished his coffee, crumpling the cup. "Stop kicking the fence, Ace," he said quietly, but with finality. "Go shower. Figure out what the hell you’re going to do. Because sitting here punishing yourself and a soccer ball isn’t helping her. And it sure as shit isn’t helping you." He turned to leave, then paused. "Just… don’t fuck it up worse, okay? She’s fragile right now. Handle it. Or don’t go near her at all."
He walked off the field, leaving Ace alone in the golden dawn light, the silence now deafening, filled only with the echo of Lee’s words and the terrifying, fragile possibility hanging in the cold, damp air. The ball lay forgotten near the fence. Ace stood motionless, the untouched espresso cooling rapidly in her hand, the weight of what came next settling on her shoulders like stone.