Page 100 of Ace

"We know about Faye and the roommate," I tell her. "We knew before you mentioned them earlier. I feel like I've been trying to get to you all damn day. I never should've left in the first place."

"What is this?" she asks again, referencing the cut on my cheek with tender fingers.

"A warning to stay away from you," I tell her, knowing I can't lie to her.

"Are you going to listen?"

My head is shaking before she finishes her sentence.

"Are you going to make that difficult for me?"

She huffs a laugh but then winces from the pain. "Do you want me to?"

I shake my head. "I'll fight for you, baby, but remember I'm fucking old. I'd rather not have to just for the sake of it."

"I don't want to go to the hospital," she says once we're on the road.

"It's not an option," I tell her. "As much as I want to get you alone and hold you in my arms, your health is too important. A quick check and we can find a place to crash."

There's no way she's going back to her house anytime soon.

"I need to speak with William," she says, but it doesn't sound like a conversation she's happy about having.

I can only imagine what's going through her head with everything that was revealed and what she went through today. My heart aches to take the pain and trauma from her.

The quick trip to the hospital turned into four hours of monitoring for a head injury by the hospital staff. She has bumps and bruises from falling, but other than that and the gnarly headache she'll have for a few days, she's okay.

Physically, she's mostly good, but I worry about the emotional side of it, wondering as I open the door to the hotel room if I shouldn't try and find a professional for her to speak with. I can comfort her, and assure her that I'm here for her, but I can't fix it. I know a therapist can't fix it either. This is just something she has to work through but I don't want to fuck her up even more by saying the wrong thing.

"Do you have—"

"The headache is mostly gone. It's more of a dull ache, and only hurts when I press my fingers to it," she says, lifting her hand to her forehead.

The bruise there is massive along with the accompanying goose egg, and I know she's going to freak a little when she sees it for the first time in the mirror.

"That's not what I was going to ask," I tell her with a soft smile, closing us into the hotel room.

Exhaustion coats me like a second skin, and I know she has to be just as tired, but showers will be required before we can go to sleep. With washrags provided by the hospital, I worked to wipe most of the blood from her skin, but there's only so much you can do in a triage bay.

"Sorry," she whispers. "I'm just so tired."

"Same. Let's shower."

She breathes a sigh of relief as if this is the best plan in the world.

I know her back is bruised from the fall but seeing it completely without clothing when I help pull the hospital-provided scrub top off of her makes me wince.

"You are going to be sore for a while," I mutter, gently letting the tip of one finger trace the purple and nearly black bruise on her right shoulder blade.

"I feel like I got run over by a truck," she says as she works down the scrub bottoms.

I strip quickly, turning on the shower and making sure the water is warm enough before helping her step over the side of the tub.

"I didn't think to stop and get different shampoo, conditioner, and soap," I say pointing to the prefilled dispenser on the wall.

"It's fine," she says, once again grimacing in pain when she lifts her hand toward the shampoo.

"Lean your head back."

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