Once he seemed satisfied with his own examination, he applied a bandage to the raw skin and carefully propped my legs up onto the coffee table.
“Keep this on here for a few minutes.” He draped the bag of frozen vegetables over my knees. “It will help with the swelling.”
I nodded, and he retrieved the pocketknife from his jeans, moving to cut the plastic ties from my ankles. But after he separated them, he frowned, observing the bloody marks left behind from the fall. The muscles in his forearm flexed as his fingers traced over the sensitive skin of my ankle, and when he spoke, his voice was rougher than I’d ever heard it. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say. I could hardly even breathe. So I just watched him apply the same care he’d shown before as he tended to my ankles, coating the cuts with antibacterial ointment and bandaging them up. He seemed like he was in another world, lost inside his own head, and I wondered what he was thinking about when he paused to stare at the faint smudge of blood against my skin.
At that moment, I could relate to him. I didn’t know a thing about his past, but I recognized that look. He was recalling something from his darkest memories. Something awful. And more than anything, I wanted to know what that was.
When Ace snapped out of it and stood, his expression darkened as his eyes moved over me again. I didn’t know what to expect when he bent toward me, but instinct had my adrenal system in overdrive, preparing for a fight. Only nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
“What happened here?” he growled as his fingers grazed the side of my neck. It was bruised from Joe, and although I’d done a fair job hiding it with makeup, it was obvious it had either melted or come off during our scuffle.
“Nothing,” I forced out. There was no way in hell I was going to tell Ace about any of that. The thought burned me with shame.
His fingers twitched as they curled into a fist at his side. I had a feeling he was envisioning himself pummeling whoever did this to me right about now, and stupidly, I liked that idea far too much. If only life were that easy. Joe was my problem, and I only hoped my parting threat would make him think twice about seeking Gypsy or me out again.
“You’re fucking done with that shit,” Ace announced. “No more cons. No more bullshit. Do you understand?”
A humorless laugh forced itself from my lips. Of course, he would think that I’d brought this on myself. He probably even thought I deserved it for stealing from idiots who just wanted to use me and throw me away.
“It’s cute how you think you can control my life.” I smiled up at him. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”
The tension never left his face as he walked into the kitchen and threw my ruined phone into the garbage as if to drive his point home. I expected more of a fight from him, and I was a little disappointed when he didn’t give me one.
“You hungry?” he bit out.
“No.” I leaned back into the cushion and studied him. “Why did you do that to my phone?”
“You were being a brat.”
I wanted to protest. I needed that phone to stay in contact with Gypsy. Except Gypsy had abandoned me to the wolf. She was the reason I was here in the first place. So what would I even say to her? No, I didn’t think I had anything to say to her right now. But Trouble was a different story. She would get worried if she didn’t hear from me. If she couldn’t track my location or check in, she’d probably start to freak. And what about her rent and food? What would happen to her if I was gone?
Worry gnawed at me, and Ace seemed to sense it, but he didn’t ask me about it. Instead, he cut the ties from my wrist and handed me the remote.
“Watch some television and don’t try anything stupid. I’m making dinner.”
BIRDIE WAS SUBDUED AS SHE picked through her salad, eating only the croutons. I wasn’t sure what to expect from her next, and that set me on edge. I liked my routine, and so far, she’d managed to disrupt every part of my day.
“Do you have any wine?” she asked, eyeballing the glass of water beside her.
“Eat your salad.” I pointed at her plate with my fork. “Or have some more chicken if you want.”
Instead, she shoved her plate away and leaned back, staring off into nothing. I didn’t like the idea of her going hungry, and I made it clear when I shoved her plate back in front of her.