Page 87 of Sixty Days Of Summer

Jerry then turns back to me and Daisy, his tone shifting to a more conclusive note. “It appears there’s a clear gap between the accusations and the evidence. Ace, Daisy, thank you for sharing your side of the story and clarifying the situation.”

He leans forward, talking to me. “But people will watch this who have seen you lose your temper, Ace. They’ll be trying to work out where the truth lies. I think, at the very least, you’ve been portrayed as someone who doesn’t care—someone painted as a crazy person who could explode at any given moment. So, to those watching us now, to those who still doubt you, what do you want to say to them?”

I turn my head to the camera, my heart racing as I meet its gaze. “I am not a violent man. I never have been. This is just a twisted attempt to exploit me for money.” My voice steadies as I speak, each word a declaration of my truth.

“Ace, Daisy, thank you very much,” Jerry says, then faces the camera with an authoritative nod. “Believe it or not, but from what it appears, the real story here seems to not be about Ace Roberts but maybe the issues within Gloria’s life.”

The camera’s cut off and Jerry stands up, stepping away from us. I glance at Daisy, who meets my gaze with a smile. Despite the lingering pain, I’m grateful for her support and for this chance to finally set things right.

To the side, our mother and that wannabe biker fucker are already yanking off their mics, eager to make their escape. The tension between them is palpable as they move swiftly toward the exit. They don’t spare me a glance, and I don’t care. I have no words left for them, and their retreat only reinforces my resolve to leave the past behind.

As a crew member comes over to remove the microphone from me, I barely register the movement. My focus is entirely on Scarlet as she walks toward me. Every glance at her during the interview felt like a breath of fresh air, cutting through the weight that’s been pressing on me for so long. Confronting my mother and reliving those painful memories has drained me, but having Scarlet here makes it feel a little more bearable.

It’s as if she’s the missing piece that makes my world fall into place. For the first time in ages, the world feels like it’s tilting in a better direction, and the burden of the past is beginning to recede.

Chapter 31

Scarlet

I’m so proud of Ace for confronting his demons head-on like that. After the interview, we spent some time with Daisy, just hanging out and killing time before our flights. We grabbed dinner at the airport, and I could see the heaviness lifting off him bit by bit. It’s good to see him like this—smiling a little more—even though the shadow of everything he’d just been through still lingers.

When I saw his mother sitting there in the studio, I honestly thought Ace was going to lose it. The way he froze the second he saw her—I braced myself for a meltdown. But he held it together. Every accusation against him was torn apart, exposed as nothingbut lies. To everyone who called him an abuser and waved those hateful signs—fuck you. I can’t help but smile, knowing the “hero” you defended was nothing but a fraud.

In the moments before boarding, Xander, Theo, and Nate all called Ace to check-in. I love how these guys look out for each other. It hurts to think that just a few weeks ago, they were at odds because of me. I never want to be the reason for any more tension between them.

By the time we arrive in New York and the cab pulls up to the hotel, it’s late. The doorman’s warm smile welcomes us as we step through the grand double doors and into the lobby. Ace takes my hand, and we walk through the refined space, the quiet hum of late-night activity surrounding us. We grab the envelope Kit left at the front desk and head down the long corridor.

As we wait for the elevator, Ace turns toward me, his eyes softening. He just watches me for a moment, and I can tell he wants to say something, but it's like he doesn’t know how to get the words out. Before he can even try, the elevator doors slide open, and just like that, the moment is ruined.

Stepping into the elevator, the doors slide shut with a soft hiss, and Ace turns to me with a tenderness I’ve never seen in him before. He pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to mine in a soft, lingering kiss.

When he pulls back, his eyes are softer, vulnerable in a way that speaks louder than any words. He doesn’t say anything, but that look—the raw, genuine side of him—tells me exactly how much I mean to him. In that silent moment, it's as if he's letting me see the part of him he keeps hidden from the world.

He takes a deep breath, swallowing hard, his brows knitting as though he’s wrestling with something deep inside. “I... I love you,” he says at last, his voice barely a whisper. “I fucking love you, Scar.”

A rush of emotions overwhelms me, and tears well in my eyes as I struggle to keep them from spilling over. The depth of what he’s just said—the sincerity in his voice—touches something deep within me.

I look at him, my vision blurred by tears, and smile. “I love you too,” I whisper.

Finally, a single tear escapes, rolling down my cheek, but I don’t bother to wipe it away. Instead, I let it fall, feeling both vulnerable and utterly cherished.

Ace reaches out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek with his thumb. The moment feels timeless, and I can’t help but feel that, in this quiet, intimate space, we’ve both discovered something incredibly precious and real.

The elevator doors slide open and we step out, our fingers still entwined, the warmth of his hand a comfort against mine. The warm, buttery glow of the sconces along the hallway bathes us in a gentle light, creating a cozy cocoon just for us.

As we step into our room and the door closes behind us, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of us in this intimate haven. Ace’s gaze locks onto mine, his eyes blazing with intensity. He steps closer, the heat of his body sending a spark through the space between us, electrifying the air. Time seems to stand still, and in this moment, nothing else matters but the love we’ve just confessed.

His touch is both gentle and commanding as he cups my face, his thumbs tracing along my jawline, sending shivers through me. He leans in, and our lips meet in a slow, teasing kiss that quickly ignites into something urgent and wild.

He pulls me in closer, our mouths moving together like we’re desperate to meld into one. Each stroke of his tongue sends fire racing through my veins, lighting me up from the inside. I can feel his need against me—hot and hard—his cockstraining as he presses against me, heightening the urgency of every moment.

My fingers thread into his hair, holding him tight, like I’m afraid to let go. The kiss is full of everything we’ve been holding back. Every touch, every breath, only drives me deeper into him. The need between us is unbearable. I need him. All of him.

He grips the edge of my shirt and, without hesitation, pulls it off in one swift motion, along with my bra. I gasp as he takes my nipple into his mouth, each touch sending waves of pleasure rippling through my body. In seconds, he unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my legs, leaving me fully exposed.

“Christ,” he breathes, his eyes burning with desire as they roam over my naked form. His fingers trace the curve of my breast, gliding over my skin until they rest possessively on my hip. “You’re so fucking perfect, Scar.”

I tug at the waistband of his jeans, urgency thrumming in my veins. “Get these off now,” I demand, my voice low and filled with need.

---