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Instead—and fuck if I can identify which higher power gives me the strength to do it—I calmly jab at the button to end the call.

Then I ask the woman I love, “What videos?”

THIRTY-NINE

Violet

Gasping, I turn around, see that Ace has my phone in his hand.

And the call log is pulled up.

And the last number—TJ’s number—is now outgoing instead of incoming.

Fuck. Fuck.

I grab the handle of my suitcase, start yanking it toward the door. “I need to go.”

Ace snags it, tugs it out of my hand, and sends it sailing in the direction of my tote. Its contents don’t scatter, not because he tossed it any gentler, but because the zipper is doing the Lord’s work.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says quietly.

“Ace,” I tell him. “This was nice while it lasted—” He grunts, pain rippling across his face, and it takes everything in me to keep my feet. God, I don’t want to hurt him. Except if I don’t do this, I will hurt him. Not just today, but I’ll hurt his future. Ruin his future.

Because my brothers know about him and they know about us and⁠—

In love with this man or not, I cannot be the one to risk what he’s worked so hard for.

“It’s only been two weeks,” I say, wishing I could find my ice, knowing I may never find it again. “That’s hardly a blip of time in our lives. Let’s just call it here and move on with our lives.”

He’s quiet.

Still and quiet.

And staring at me as though he can see into my soul.

I close my eyes.

Which means that I miss Ace moving closer.

“No,” he says and my lids fly open, “we’re not moving on. We’re not ending this.”

“I—”

He cups my cheek. “I love you.”

Those words.

I can’t allow myself to hear those words, can’t allow them to penetrate my heart. I can’t.

Only…they’re already in.

So, when I open my mouth to say something absolutely unforgivable, the words don’t escape.

They can’t.

I can’t hurt him.

His thumb smooths back and forth over my skin. “And you love me too.”