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“Remind me again what we’re doing all the way out here?” Ace says, peering up in front of them.
Nancy draws her coat around herself, the cold biting at her cheeks even as she balances the flashlight in one hand while the other rummages in the knot hole of the tree.
“Hannah told me it was in here,” she breathes. She tries very hard not to think about whatever bugs or creatures may have once lived in this hole, stifling a squeak when her fingers brush what she thinks is a tiny skull.
Girl detective, she might be, but she wasn’t made of steel.
“Aha!” Nancy’s fingers close around something smooth and metallic and she pulls her hand out of the hole.
“That’s what you dragged me away from Jaime’s hot chocolate for?” Ace says, stepping closer to her and peering over her shoulder to glance at the object in her hands. Nancy ignores the way her heart goes erratic, racing at his comforting yet intoxicating proximity. “Doesn’t look worth missing out on imported hot chocolate from France for,” he mutters.
“You just wanted the marshmallows.”
“They weren’t kosher! I couldn’t even have them.”
“They make kosher marshmallows?”
Ace nods seriously. “How else do you think my mom made my dad and I hot chocolate when I was growing up?”
Nancy rolls her eyes, a fond smile pulling at her lips, before she glances down at the object in her hands once more. “Well,” she sighs, “another weird mystical object on our hands.”
“Hannah asked you to get this for…..what?”
Nancy shrugs. “No clue. Just that she needed it for some ritual.”
“Weird,” Ace mutters. He turns away, running his hand through his hair, peering through the forest line. Nancy admires the cut of his jaw, sharp and strong, against the pale gray sky. “We’ll have to walk back to Florence.”
“How far away is she?”
“Ten minutes.” Nancy gives him a startled look, not expecting such a specific answer, and Ace gives her a casual shrug with an easy grin.
“Eagle scout.”
Nancy laughs lightly, shaking her head. “Well then, we should get going. It’s getting late.”
She and Ace make their way through the woods, leaves crunching underfoot as they step over tree roots and pick through brambles. But the thing about Maine weather is that it’s unpredictable, and turns on a dime without any forewarning.
Which is exactly what it does in this case.
She’s not too worried when the first few fat flakes start falling, more irritated that her hair was going to be wet when they get back to the car, but then it starts picking up, so much so she can barely see Ace in front of her.
“Nancy,” he calls, turning around. She squints her eyes, shivering, and can barely make him out in front of her with the flurries.
“I’m here,” she answers.
A moment later, she feels a warm hand close around her own, and though she can’t feel his skin through the layers of his glove and her own, her heart still races in her chest at his touch. “We have to get out of this storm.”
Nancy’s nodding before he even finishes speaking. She had anticipated a bit of rough weather—although not this rough, not by far—which was the whole reason she had brought Ace along with her. She trusts him the most in this situation.
(and every situation, really, but she doesn’t want to consider the implications of that. it’s easier to rationalize this one)
“How?”
Ace tugs on her hand gently and she follows him. “I think I saw a cabin a few paces away from us on our way. Hopefully we can ride this storm out there and then get back.”
Nancy’s teeth chatter, the snow soaking through her coat and starting to chill her. “Y—yeah,” she breathes. “Sounds good.”
She focuses on Ace’s hand in hers as he leads them through the flurry, especially the colder she gets, his fingers tangled around hers—her only lifeline. Sometimes it feels like all the warmth she is feeling is coming from him, his hand.
“Here,” he breathes, finally, and Nancy nearly crashes into his back when he makes an abrupt stop. “We’re here.”
Nancy pushes past him and crouches down to examine the lock. She pulls her lock-picking tools out of her jacket—she never goes anywhere without them, like any good slight felon—and works at the cabin door, sighing in relief when the tumblers turn and click.
Ace practically shoves her into the cabin, shutting the door firmly behind them. He moves immediately to the windows. “Go check that one,” he orders, a firmness in his voice he rarely uses. “We need to keep them sealed so we don’t lose any heat to the storm.”
Between the both of them they quickly lock all of the windows, using rags they find in the kitchen to stop up every possible gap, and Nancy can already feel the room heating up. When they finally finish, she steps back, surveying their new home.
It’s a small cabin, split into a living room and a kitchen with a small hallway leading off into what she assumes to be a bathroom and a bedroom. “Whose place is this?”
Ace shrugs. “Who cares?”
“Strange that it’s so well stocked yet abandoned,” she murmurs, opening the cabinet doors to see it is fairly full of canned foods and non-perishables.
“Probably some logger’s that isn’t here right now.” Ace glances over at the door. “Maybe an axe-murderer. An axe-murdering logger.” Ace snaps his fingers. “That would be a really good disguise.”
Nancy rolls her eyes once more. “Can we just focus on waiting this storm out?”
“Yeah, well,” Ace says, glancing at the door. “It doesn’t exactly look like it’s going to be calming down any time soon.”
“Great,” Nancy sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “So we’re stuck.”
“For the foreseeable future, yes.”
She wraps her arms around herself, trying to rub some warmth into her skin. “Great.”
“Hey.” A worried look crosses Ace’s face as she shivers, and in a moment, he is by her side. “Are you ok?”
“I’m f—fine,” Nancy says, but the chattering of her teeth underscores her declaration.
“You gotta take your clothes off.”
Nancy chokes on her inhale. “Uh—what?”
Ace flushes red. “I mean—just—you should take your coat and sweater off at least. They’re pretty wet from—from the snow.”
“I—” Nancy swallows. “Uh—I don’t think it’s quite warm enough yet for me to do that.”
Ace runs a hand through his hair, not looking at her. “I can start up the fireplace.”
Nancy glances over at it, nothing more than a simple, crude fireplace built into the wall with stacks of logs next to it. “Are you sure? There’s not even a flint or a match, or anything like that.”
“I was an Eagle Scout, Nance.” His hand lands on her shoulder, searing through her skin, and suddenly she cannot imagine being cold. He squeezes her shoulder once before letting go. “It’ll be fine.”
Now that he mentioned it, her clothes were starting to get uncomfortable and she really didn’t want them.
“Oh—ok,” she says.
Feeling strange at the prospect of undressing with Ace’s eyes on her, she turns around, frozen fingers fumbling at the buttons of her coat. She quickly pulls it off, tugging off her gloves and bringing her cold fingers up to her lips to try and artificially rub some warmth into them. For good measure, she kicks off her boots and tugs her socks off as well.
She’s getting warmer and warmer, but it’s not until she strips her sweater off—leaving her in just a simple striped shirt and jeans—that she feels warmth, heat at her back.
For a second, she thinks it is Ace, and she turns around, half expecting to see him gazing down at her, but then she sees the fireplace crackling merrily away.
Of course.
Regardless of the source of the warmth, however, it’s still warm and Nancy makes her way over to it immediately. “Oh,” she sighs, eyes fluttering shut at how good it feels, bringing sensation back into her fingers.
“That better?” Ace says, glancing over at her.
“Yeah,” Nancy laughs, turning to look at him. Her heart stops in her chest for a moment at how close they are, his hair falling into his eyes, and it takes everything in her not to let her gaze fall to his lips.
Ace clears his throat and looks away, stepping back from her and pulling his own winter coat off, leaving him in a sweater that he shoves up to his elbows, exposing mouth-watering forearms.
“Well,” he sighs, running his hand through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes, “might as well get comfortable.” Glancing out the window, he winces as he says, “doesn’t look like the storm is gonna quit anytime soon.”
Kicking off his boots, he disappears down the tiny hallway leading into a tiny kitchen, opening the cabinets. “What….are you doing?” Nancy asks, trailing after him.
“Looking for maple syrup,” Ace answers.
“Why?” she asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorway.
“I make pancakes whenever there’s a storm. It’s tradition.”
“Tradition?” Nancy drawls, watching him move around the kitchen. “Isn’t it a little presumptuous to go rifling around someone else’s kitchen in the name of tradition?”
He gives her an easy grin as he stretches up and grabs the flour from the top cabinet, opening the fridge, and pulling out a carton of eggs. “Nancy Drew isn’t lecturing me on respecting people’s boundaries, right?”
Her mouth drops open in mock shock. “Excuse me?”
His eyes flicker up to hers, dancing with joy. “You’re telling me I’m wrong?”
Nancy pushes off the doorway and walks over to him, pressing her hands flat against the counter and looking down at the mixing bowl he’s pulled out. “When I snoop, it’s always with a purpose.”
“There’s no greater purpose in life than pancakes, Nance,” Ace says, with such seriousness Nancy can’t hold back a snicker. “Especially pancakes in a storm.”
“Mmm.” She glances around the kitchen, sighing. “Well, I guess we can leave some money and a note. I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“That’s the spirit.” He smiles at her, and it takes root in her stomach, growing and spreading branches of warmth throughout her chest.
(these—reactions, she was having towards ace, they were getting more and more distracting by the day. it was like he was a match, lighting up a whole fireworks show inside of her—and she didn’t know how to get a handle on it)
“So, why pancakes, of all things?”
Ace shrugs, tugging on his lips with his teeth. She waits for him to answer, because throughout her time of knowing Ace, of learning about him, that giving him space was the best thing to do. That he would come to her, if only she would wait for him.
(she would wait for ace forever)
“My dad always made them when I was a kid before he headed out to deal with the storm,” Ace says, quietly. His fingers tap an egg against the counter, cracking it into the bowl. “After—after his accident, it took a while for my mom to convince him to do it again, but he did, eventually. And once I got a bit older he would let me help him.”
Nancy smiles. “That sounds nice.”
“It was.” He looks over at her. “So, um. Kind of a tradition. And we have to eat something, don’t we?”
“That we do.”
Ace turns to face her fully, crossing his arms. “You gonna stand there and let me do all the work?”
She smirks. “That was the plan.”
“Don’t want to be my sous chef?”
Nancy pretends to consider it. “Only if I can sneak some of the chocolate chips.”
“Deal.”
Ace hands her a whisk and the bowl before he grabs another bowl, turning around and turning the stove on. “How’s your dad?” he asks, conversational.
“Ryan or Carson?”
“Either.” Ace flips a spatula over in his hand, handing her the bag of chocolate chips. As promised, she pours a few into her palm and pops them into her mouth before dumping half the bag into the mix. “Nancy!” Ace exclaims.
“What?” she says, turning too-innocent eyes on him.
Ace chuckles. “You can’t put too many chocolate chips in the batter.”
“Why not?”
“Because it messes with the pancakes.”
“No one’s gonna see them but us. Chef Jamie isn’t here to critique us in his fake-French.”
“The man can’t even speak French,” Ace mutters, and takes the bowl from her anyways.
He pours the batter on the griddle and it sizzles. Nancy watches small bubbles on the top of the batter pop. The silence stretching out between them is comforting and stifling all at the same time. “I know he might not be up to your standards,” she teases, “but I’m not sure anyone would be.”
“All I ask is that he doesn’t butcher the beauty of the French language on a regular basis.” Ace flips the pancakes, a perfect golden brown, and glances over at her. “That doesn’t seem like a high standard to me.”
Nancy grins, shaking her head. “Well, not all of us can be polyglots like you.”
“Weird word.” Ace licks his lips as he places the pancakes on a plate and pours the rest of the batter onto the griddle, risking another glance at her. “You never answered my question about your dad, by the way.”
Nancy flushes against her will. “I mean, there’s not much to tell.”
“Nothing going on with either of them?”
Well, that wasn’t exactly the truth. But the truth was that both Carson and Ryan had become—the only word was annoying—about Ace and everything to do with him. They’d been far too interested in every story she had that mentioned him, had bugged her to bring him over, and have him spend time with—with them. Ryan had even insisted Ace be added to the chore wheel and Carson had already planned on giving him a code to their keyless entry. Nancy knew they wanted him, wanted them, to happen.
It was all—too much, and not enough. She wanted Ace like that, wanted him to slot into her family so easily it was like he had always been a part of it, but wanting that, hoping for that, seemed to be too much. She didn’t know how to tell her fathers that having Ace like that in her life wasn’t a real possibility, it was simply something she ached for with her whole body. That he didn’t feel about her the way she felt about him, that he didn’t love her back in the way she loved him.
Telling them that wouldn’t just break their hearts. It would break hers all over again.
“No,” she answers. “They’re normal. Asking about you.”
“Really?” Ace turns the stove off and slides a plate of pancakes in front of her. They look perfect, golden brown and fluffy, and her mouth waters. “What do they want to know?”
Nancy shrugs, digging through the cabinets for a fork. “How you are, what you’re up to, that sort of thing.”
“They couldn’t just ask me?” He raises an eyebrow, accepting the fork she holds out to him.
“You’ll have to ask them yourself why not.” Desperate to steer this conversation anywhere else, she sticks her fork in her pancakes and takes a bite. “Oh,” she moans, eyes fluttering shut for a second, the chocolate melting over her tongue. “Ace, these are amazing.”
She swallows, opening her eyes to look at him, and he’s gazing at her with an intensity that makes electricity arc down her spine and her breath hitch in her chest. She curls her fingers tighter around the fork, desperate to ground herself to something.
“Um,” he says, his voice breaking her out of her head. “Thank you.”
Nancy glances down and takes another bite, doing her best to awkwardly not look at him. “Shouldn’t I be thanking Thom?”
“Honestly?” Ace answers as he takes his plate and brushes past her to the living room. “Yeah, probably. It is his recipe.”
“I’ll make sure to stop by and let him know,” Nancy says. She’s still a bit cold, so she sits on the floor in front of the fireplace, curling her legs up under her.
“He’ll be glad to see you.” Ace sticks his fork in his own pancakes, shoveling them into his mouth, and Nancy rolls her eyes. “But make sure to say hi to my mom too. She’ll never forgive you if you say hi to my dad and not her.”
“Of course I would say hello to Rebecca,” Nancy says. She reaches over and steals a bite of Ace’s pancakes—far too easily, for how territorial she’s seen him get about his pancakes. “Like I wouldn’t.”
“She adores you,” Ace says, and then stops, the tips of his ears turning a bit red.
Nancy smirks. “Really?”
Ace reaches over and steals some of her pancakes, sticking his tongue out at her when she tries to bat his hand away. “Duh. Says that I could learn a lot from you. That you’re full of purpose and driven and a good person.”
Nancy blinks. “I didn’t know she felt that way about me.”
Ace snorts. “Please, Nancy. You’d have to be blind to not realize how much she likes you.”
She blinks once more, glancing down at the dinner plate with far too much intrigue. It’s painted with small lavender blossoms, and she traces her finger over one of the petals, trying to figure out how to respond. “I guess I just—always thought she might have a bad opinion of me.” She laughs bitterly, trying not to let the pain bleed through her voice. “You know, because of everything that’s—that’s happened.”
“Nancy,” Ace says, his voice soft and warm, gentle. She feels it wrap around her like something alive, settling into her bones. Against her will, she looks up at him, his blue eyes intent on her. “Why would you ever think that?”
Nancy clears her throat, looks away from him and out the window to the bustling storm, and suddenly this warm, cozy cabin that protects them from the elements feels stifling and far too small. “I just—I’m none of those things, Ace,” she admits, feeling like she is under a microscope under his gaze.
(no, it is something more intense than that. ace’s gaze on her is like a flashlight, like sunlight in her eyes, and she can barely stand it)
“I’m not—driven and full of purpose.” She smiles, but there’s no humour in it. “And I’m definitely not a good person.”
“Nance—” he starts, but she can’t be here, so she stands up and walks into the kitchen, turning on the tap and running her plate underneath the water. “You can’t seriously believe that,” he says, coming to her side.
Nancy takes his plate and runs it under the tap as well, hoping her answer gets drowned out. “Isn’t it true, Ace? All I’ve done is put you guys in danger—risked your lives, for me. You drank poison for me.” She holds up her hand to stop him from saying his normal rebuttal. “I’m not a good person, Ace. A good person wouldn’t do that to their friends, wouldn't be so—selfish.”
“Nancy.” She doesn’t want to hear whatever platitudes Ace has to offer, doesn’t want to hear whatever soothing words he might give, because they’re not true, and she can’t bear to hear them coming from him—Ace, who is the best person she knows, without a doubt.
He doesn’t let her go though, catching her, and drawing her closer to him, hands wrapping around her elbows. “You’re the opposite of selfish.” He swallows, looking like the words are difficult to get out, and something in her stomach flips at the notion he is trying for her anyways. “I—everyone knows you have the biggest heart. All you want to do is try and help the town. Nancy, you’re selfless.”
She bites her cheek. “Your mom should hate me,” she says softly. “After putting you in so much—so much danger. I don’t even forgive myself. I don’t know how she’s ok with any of it.”
Ace laughs. “I’m not exactly sure how much of it she knows, but Nancy.” He draws her just a bit closer, heart-stoppingly so. “Even if she doesn’t know,” he murmurs, “she knows there is a reason I always go to you.”
Nancy swallows, curling her fingers into fists so she doesn’t touch him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying my mom knows that I choose you because of—because of who you are. Because she sees exactly what I see in you: that you have a big heart, and you care so much, and you make—you make people want to be better, Nancy. You make everyone around you want to be better.”
She wishes she had the bravery to ask if he felt that way. “Thank you, Ace.”
He smiles at her, slowly, before he suddenly realizes the position they’re in and steps back, letting his hands fall from her elbows. “Of—of course.”
Nancy suddenly feels the need to tell him, give him what he has given her. “You know she thinks the exact same things about you, right?”
Ace smiles bitterly at her, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he glances down at the kitchen counter. “You don’t need to say that.”
“I mean it,” Nancy insists. Her heart hurts at even the possibility of Ace thinking he is anything less than amazing, anything less than the best person in the world. It is more than a truth for her, it is an immutable fact of her life.
“Right,” Ace drawls. “I’m just as driven and dedicated as the hero of Horseshoe Bay.”
“Ace,” she protests.
“I know what everyone thinks about me, Nancy,” he says. “That I—I don’t have a purpose. That I’m just wasting my life here.”
“That’s not true.” She cuts him off because she can’t bear to hear any more, can’t bear to hear that he has such a poor opinion of herself, when to her it is like he hung every star in the sky. “Ace, you do have a purpose. You’re amazing and I know that your mom feels the same way.”
Ace’s eyes flicker up to lock with hers, blue bright against his lashes. Nancy holds her breath as the silence stretches out between them, heavy and palpable.
Clearing his throat, he looks away from her. “It’s getting dark,” Ace murmurs. “We should get some rest and get going in the morning—it’s not safe to go out in this weather.”
“Um—yeah. Okay,” she manages. Ace disappears out of the kitchen into the hallway, and Nancy follows him to the bedroom, stopping in her tracks when she sees it.
There’s only one bed.
Feeling her face flush bright red, Nancy forces herself to look Ace in the eyes. “Uh, so, how do you—”
“You can have the bed,” he answers far too easily, seemingly unaffected by the awkward situation they’ve found themselves in. “I’ll just take the living room.”
“Oh.” He brushes past her and grabs the blanket folded at the end of the bed, the extra pillow there. “No, I’ll take the living room, you can—”
He snorts. “No. If my mother ever found out I took the bed—I’d be dead. Take it, I’ll be fine on the couch, seriously.”
Nancy swallows, and despite the cabin being warm and inviting, she feels cold at the prospect of sleeping so close yet so far from Ace. But she can’t very well ask him to sleep with her. That risks their friendship in ways she doesn’t think she’ll ever be ok with.
So instead she nods. “Okay.”
“See you in the morning.”
“Um—yeah,” Nancy says, staring at the wooden door as it clicks shut behind Ace. She flops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and groans.
A whole night with Ace just a room away. Just great.
Nancy wakes up slowly, groggy. She groans, rubbing at her eyes, squinting against the harsh sunlight, before she jolts awake, aware of her surroundings.
“Oof,” she grunts, as she nearly falls out of the tiny twin bed in her haste, just catching herself at the last moment. Without bothering to look at her appearance—which she’s sure is a mess—she darts to the living room, desperate to see if the snow has quieted down any.
She’s greeted, instead, by the sight of the storm still raging outside and even worse—snow piled up so high it reaches halfway up the window.
“Oh my god,” she breathes.
“Nancy?”
She turns her head to see Ace rising from where he’d been sleeping, hair tousled, eyes bleary, and clouded with sleep. Her heart twists at the sight of him—so soft and gentle and domestic—she averts her eyes before he catches her staring at him.
She can’t help it; she’s never seen Ace like this. In the morning he becomes more muted, blurred and rounded at the edges, and something about it draws her in.
He yawns, rubbing his hand against his eyes, blinking open. “Oh, shit,” he swears, when he catches sight of the windows.
“We’re stuck,” Nancy says. She glances at Ace. “Fuck, Ace, we’re stuck.”
She fishes her phone out of her pocket, thankful that she charged it before she left her house, but when she turns it on, she curses when she sees she has no service.
“And I’m not getting any bars.” She shoves her phone back in her pocket, running her hand through her hair. “We’re stranded and nobody knows where we are.”
“Hey, hey, Nance,” Ace says, nearly tripping over the blankets at his feet as he rushes over to her. “Relax, ok?” His hands wrap around her shoulders, comforting and strong.
Ace holds her like she imagines one would hold an injured animal, with gentleness and grace but firmness as well. “Nancy, look at me.”
She can barely manage to do it, but she drags her eyes to his, meeting them head on. “It’s going to be ok. We’re fine as long as we stay here—there’s plenty of food, enough to last us at least two weeks. And the snow will definitely calm down before that, and we’ll be able to get back home, ok?”
Nancy swallows. “Yeah, you’re right.” She takes a deep breath, a little embarrassed at how quickly she unraveled. She was Nancy Drew. A snowstorm wasn’t enough to terrify her.
(and it wasn’t. but the prospect of spending any more time with ace—especially in a small cabin they were both stuck in, no reprieve from his presence, was enough to terrify her. she could barely get through work shifts with him, how on earth was she supposed to survive any more time with it just being the two of them?)
“Ok, first we need to—to take stock of what we have,” Nancy says. “To make sure we’ve got enough to keep us going.”
Ace nods. “I’ll take the kitchen, you take the bathroom. I didn’t spot any clothes, but maybe there’s a change of them we can borrow for a bit. And see if there’s any extra toothbrushes or whatever.” He pulls a face. “We do not want to go a few days without brushing—the worst Eagle Scout trip ever was when Tommy Robinson forgot his on a three day hike.”
She giggles despite herself. Ace was good at that, pulling smiles out of her even when she didn’t want to give them. “Yeah, sounds good.”
He gives her shoulders another reassuring squeeze before letting go, and Nancy wishes he wouldn’t.
Instead, she turns away and steps back into the bedroom.
Twenty minutes later, she steps back into the living room to find Ace standing in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and lips slightly pursed as he looks out the window. “We’ve got two extra toothbrushes and towels in the bathroom,” she says. “I, uh, think we have enough extra clothes, but I kind of feel weird about wearing clothes from someone I’ve never met before.”
“Enough food,” he responds, narrowing his eyes at the storm. “And plenty of firewood. We’ll figure out the clothes situation later—it’s not that important.”
“Uh, yeah.”
Ace finally looks over at her, offering her a small, lopsided grin. “Well, we better brush my teeth. Don’t want to knock you out with my morning breath.”
Nancy stifles a grin. “Yeah, uh, that would be bad, considering we’re stuck here together.”
“My jokes would go completely unappreciated.”
“They’re unappreciated now, Ace,” she deadpans, even as she follows him into the too-small bathroom.
“You’re telling me all of the time and energy I put into creating art is unappreciated?”
“Maybe if you had better jokes,” she smirks, accepting the purple toothbrush he holds out to her.
Ace just shakes his head, brushing the hair out of his eyes as he turns to the mirror. They brush their teeth in a tangle of limbs and Nancy does all she can to ignore how jarringly domestic this is. She’s never realized before how large Ace is—not in a terrifying way, of course, but not in an easy-to-ignore way either. He dwarfs the small bathroom, broad shoulders spanning nearly the breadth of the sink, and she can’t help but feel small next to his frame. He is so much in the way Ace always is. Like always, he eclipses everything around him.
“Well,” Nancy says, turning to him. “Since we’re stuck, what do you want to do?”
Ace rubs his hand over his jaw, and she catches sight of a small streak of toothpaste next to his mouth. Without thinking, she reaches up and smoothes her thumb over it and it’s not until his eyes lock on hers that she realizes she’s cupping his jaw on her hand, fingers pressing against his pulse point.
She clears her throat, running her thumb under the bathroom faucet. “Dibs on the first shower,” Ace says, voice hoarse.
“Isn’t it polite to offer that to the lady first?” Nancy can’t quite look at him as she asks, afraid to tread further on this new, uneven ground between them.
“Yeah, but I want the hot water.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “Fine,” Nancy huffs, crossing her arms. “Be that way.”
“I will.”
She rolls her eyes and steps out of the bathroom, making a beeline for the kitchen. Ace had made pancakes for them yesterday, so she figures it’s her responsibility to scrounge up something edible for lunch.
The problem with the cabin, as aforementioned, is that it is small. And as she hears the tap turn on, Nancy swallows, determined not to think about Ace. In the shower. Ace in the shower.
“Fuck,” she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. If she was going to make anything edible, considering how much of a mess she was in the kitchen, she needed to focus on that.
Throwing open the cabinets, Nancy manages to cobble together mac and cheese from the boxed pasta and block of cheese she finds in the fridge—given the owner of the cabin’s tendency to swing towards non-perishable items, she figured that hoping for a fresh fruit or vegetable was securely out of the question.
She’s just turning the flame off the pot when the bathroom door swings open, steam escaping the small room and appearing in the hallway.
“I made lunch,” she announces, opening the cabinets for two plates.
“Uh oh,” Ace’s voice says, a teasing lilt to it. “Should I be worried about food poisoning?”
“Shut up.” She pulls the plates out and sets them on the table.
“When was the last time you cooked?” Ace appears in the doorway, grinning at her, but words die on her lips as she takes him in.
His hair is damp and pushed away from his face, nothing more than a towel wrapped around his hips, and her face flames as she takes him in. The smooth, tanned skin stretching over firm muscle that makes her mouth water, the jut of his hip far too tempting. She drags her eyes down his body, down the faint lines of muscle, lower, and lower, until she comes to the vee of his hips. And of all things it’s his fucking hipbones that makes her want to drag him to her, pull that towel off, and kiss him until the only word in his mouth is her name.
“I—uh,” Nancy stammers, feeling like she needs to go and bury her face in the snow to cool herself down, because the sight of Ace like this sets every cell in her body on fire.
God, it was one thing being in love with Ace. She could shove that to the back of her mind most of the time—although it never went away, simply lurked until another moment brought it into the light—but being attracted to Ace was something else entirely. It had started before she realized she was in love with him—if she was being honest, she’d been attracted to him since they first met, but it just got worse with time. The more she looked at him, the more she wanted to kiss him, to lock him in a room with her.
“I can make—mac and cheese,” she stammers, tearing her eyes away from him—a physical thing. “I’m not that incompetent.”
“Really?” As if to torment her more, completely unaware of the lecherous and debauched thoughts swirling around in her mind, he walks over to her, the veins of his hand protruding, stark against his skin, his hip where his fingers clutch at the towel. He rakes his hand through his hair, the muscles of his chest and arms stretching and flexing.
She does everything she can not to stare at them.
(she fails, miserably)
He hums as he peers into the pot, and Nancy, desperate not to look him in the eyes, fixes her gaze on a spot over his shoulder, which is when she realizes he’s also still slightly damp from the shower.
Fuck her.
He smells so good, sharp and clear like pine, and his proximity combined with his scent and the fact that so much of his bare skin is on display so close to her leaves her clutching the counter surreptitiously so her knees don’t give out. “Not bad, Drew,” he says, mouth twisting into a grin.
“I’m glad it has your stamp of approval,” she fires back, desperate to act as if her mind isn’t literally melting.
Thankfully, he steps back a moment later, just before Nancy considers throwing all caution to the wind and kissing him, shaking his head like a dog, small drops of water flying everywhere. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious, Nancy.”
She swallows before giving him a smile in thanks. “Do you want to shower before we eat?” he asks, jabbing his thumb towards the bathroom.
“Uh.” Her voice sounds like she’s just run a marathon instead of simply standing in place. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go.”
“Great.” Ace gives her a heart-stopping grin—small by anyone else’s standards, but every smile he gives her acts like a defibrillator on her heart—before ducking out of the hallway. She can hear the door of the bedroom click shut behind him.
Nancy darts into the bathroom instantly, and it’s not until the door shuts behind her and she locks it that she lets herself sag against the sink, pressing her palms to her cheeks.
How on earth was she going to survive another second of this, let alone a few days, at best? Another second of having Ace at her fingertips, but never within her grasp.
(she feels like tantalus with the fruit, the greatest object of her desires just out of her reach)
She wishes she could blame the heat spreading through her body on the lingering steam from Ace’s shower, but she knows the truth.
She wasn’t sure how much longer she could ignore how much she wanted him, but she was going to have to.
After she showers and they eat—lapsing into halfway uncomfortable silence occasionally— Nancy shrugs her jacket on.
Ace catches sight of her while he’s finishing up the dishes and turns around. “Uh, where do you think you’re going?”
“Just to get a peek.” Nancy tilts her head towards the door. “Maybe it’s not as bad as we think.”
Ace purses his lips, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Do you really believe that?”
No, she didn’t, but frankly, being much closer to Ace for longer was going to drive her absolutely insane and she needed her space.
“Uh—well,” she says, rubbing her palms on her jeans. “We’re gonna have to check eventually, right? Better late than never.”
Ace frowns. “Nancy.”
“Fine,” she groans, throwing up her hands. “I’ll stay inside. But I’m bored, Ace. There’s no service here and there’s literally nothing to do.”
Ace tilts his head, a smile on his lips. “So let’s find something to do.”
He marches out into the living room, Nancy trailing after him. “Look,” he says, pointing to a stack of board games in the corner. “We can do game night.”
Nancy raises an eyebrow. “Just us?”
He shrugs. “We don’t exactly have any other options. Unless you’re hiding George somewhere.” He narrows his eyes at her suspiciously, even as she rolls her own.
“Don’t you think if I were hiding George, I would have had her cook something for me instead of mac and cheese?”
Ace laughs. “Fair enough. So, what do you say?”
“Fine,” Nancy agrees. “But we can’t count any of this towards our win-loss tally. Our friends will be pissed if they find out we played without them.”
Ace steps closer to her, wagging his eyebrows. He leans down to whisper, “it’ll be our secret.”
Nancy glances up at him, at how close he is to her, and she does her very best to ignore it.
(meaning, she doesn’t ignore it at all)
“What game?”
“Stratego?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” Nancy declares. “You know that’s your best game, you’re undefeated, and I am not dealing with how competitive you get when playing that.”
Ace pouts, drawing her gaze to his mouth. God, she wants to sink her teeth into his lower lip.
Fuck, she needs to get ahold of herself. She tears her gaze from his mouth, locking eyes with him. “Fine,” he whines.
“Scrabble?” she asks.
“Fine,” he acquiesces, walking over and pulling the board game out. “Wow, this is the really nice deluxe edition.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised that Carson hasn’t sprung for that yet, considering how much he loves the game.”
Ace glances at her. “Your dad loves Scrabble?”
Nancy snorts. “I think love might be a mild way of putting it. How do you think I got so good—he was ruthless. If I wanted to win during game night, I had to be as ruthless as him.”
“You’re good? I didn’t know,” he teases, catching the pillow she throws at him.
She was good, thank you very much. Currently the reigning champion, but Ace was catching up to her. Nancy was honestly a little embarrassed at how close he was to beating her the times she won.
Ace during game night was—distractingly attractive. It was probably why he was beating her so often. He just got competitive, focused and intense in a way he rarely was. He would bite his lip and stare at the board with this intensity, and Nancy had found herself wondering if he was as focused and intense in b—
Nancy slams the breaks on that train of thought. That was dangerous territory to venture into and she was going to be stuck with him in this small cabin for the next few days, minimum. There was absolutely no way she was going to survive this entire thing if she let her thoughts keep straying.
She probably shouldn’t have agreed to play Scrabble.
Ace sits cross-legged on the floor, pulling the board out of the box. Nancy sits across from him, her back to the couch, and pulls the bag of letters out. They set up the game, Nancy ignoring the way her hand electrifies when her hand brushes his occasionally while setting up the game.
“Yeah,” she says, as they start playing. She lays down her first word, repast. A meal. “So, are we keeping our track record, just for this game?”
He smiles slowly. “Let’s just play for now. A clean slate.” His eyes dance with mirth, a cocky smirk present on his lips. “If you’re not chicken.”
She meets his challenge head-on. “As if.”
Ace grins at her, a slash of sunlight. She tries not to be blinded; fails and ducks her head towards the board once more. “Good.”
He lays down his word. “Grisly. Causing horr—”
“I know what grisly means,” she snaps, already a bit upset he scored higher than her. She had to prove a point to him, prove he hadn’t rendered her so far gone for him she was losing at—at Scrabble.
Ace just raises his eyebrow, smirking again, this time a flash of lightning. “Getting upset, Drew?”
He only ever calls her by her last name on game nights and it always irritates her. It’s hot too, which makes it all the more frustrating. “No.”
She lays down her next word. “Yip. A high pitched squeal.”
They go back and forth like this, always close in score. She wants to beat him, she has to. But she would be lying if she said pushing his buttons during game night wasn’t a little bit fun. And again, really hot.
She nearly combusts when he tugs his lip between his teeth, staring at the board.
Half of Nancy is seriously considering throwing all caution to this wind and kissing him. She desperately needs to get a hold of herself.
“So,” Ace says, eyes sparkling as she takes her time looking at her letters, trying to figure out a word. They’ve lapsed into the lazier part of the game, where they settle into a close tie as they run out of letters. “You mentioned your dad loving Scrabble was how you learned to be good. What was your favourite game?”
Nancy raises an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Ace stares at her for a second, before understanding dawns in his eyes. “Clue. Obviously.”
Nancy shrugs. “You said it, not me.”
“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure that out,” Ace says. He picks up a piece and begins to twirl it through his hands as he thinks. Nancy’s eyes are drawn to his fingers, her blush deepening as she realizes how dexterous they can be. She focuses on her letters; the board. “No wonder you’re nearly undefeated in that.”
As good as Nancy was in Scrabble, it was nothing compared to her in Clue. She won almost every game, sitting in double digits while everyone else was less than five.
She shrugs. “You know. Would be embarrassing if I wasn’t.” Desperate to cool the increasing tension between them, she lays down the least sexy word she can find. Perturb. “Make someone anxious or unsettled.”
Ace keeps passing the tile through his fingers as he looks at the board, taking his time. “Clue was your favourite,” he says softly. “And Scrabble your dad’s.”
“What about your dad?” Nancy says, fingers digging into the rug as she leans back, watching Ace.
She knows Ace’s father is something of a sore subject with him, but in a way that particularly intrigues her. Because it seems more like Ace was mad at himself for disappointing his father, rather than being mad at his father for his expectations. Her heart breaks a little at the thought of it; at Ace, always blaming himself.
(she loves him so much it hurts. he was perfect to her, would always be perfect to her)
He lays down his next word before answering. “Dad likes Scrabble the best too.”
She throws her head back and laughs, a quick and sharp thing. “Of course.”
Ace shrugs. “I think it’s because he likes that it’s another way to speak.” He watches as she takes her turn. “He likes words—has always loved them. Practically learnt a new language for and with my mother.”
Nancy smiles faintly. “That’s so romantic.”
Ace glances up at her. “I guess so.”
She snorts. “I don’t know what kind of wonderful men you’ve been dating, but I can’t imagine any of the guys I’ve been with to do anything like that for me.”
“Not even Nick?” Ace looks like he wants to take back the words as soon as he says them, but instead he clenches his jaw—highlighting that beautiful jawline of his she wants to trace with her mouth—and remains stubbornly silent.
Nancy shakes her head. “No, we never had that kind of relationship. I—I don’t think I was ever ready to open up to him the way he needed. He is that kind of guy—just not for me.”
Ace stares at her. His eyes are a luminous blue, like molten metal. He looks like there is a whole world brewing in his head and she wonders if she will ever be a navigator of it.
(ace’s mind is a storm, and nancy wants to be a stormchaser)
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
Ace doesn’t look at her as he answers. “That he wasn’t like that for you. You must be hurt over that.”
Nancy narrows her eyes at him. “Why?”
“Well, if you—liked him that much,” he stammers, a faint blush spilling over his cheeks, down his neck. His voice is gruff as he adds. “I’m sorry.”
Nancy peers at him, trying to figure out why he is acting so strange.
“Anyways,” he says hurriedly. “Um—I wasn’t aware my dad was that romantic, but I guess he is.”
She drops it, mostly because Ace seems like he wants her to. “He is.”
Ace hands her a few more tiles, keeping his eyes trained on hers. “Yeah. It’s a—a good fact about them.”
Nancy smirks. “What did your father say when you told him Scrabble was my favourite? He must have liked me the best out of all of your friends.”
Ace shrugs. “Who’s to say he already doesn’t?”
Her cheeks pinken at that, at the implications she knows aren’t true. “You’re just trying to distract me from telling me what he said. Did he give you tips on how to beat me?” she teases.
Ace laughs. “No, I don’t need them.” His blush deepens as he thinks though, clearly remembering something.
“Tell me,” Nancy goades. “What did he say?”
Ace’s tongue runs over his lips, fidgeting slightly as he says “Uh—he said, ‘Don’t let her go.’ And you know, I wasn’t ever planning on it. But he really reminded me of that.”
Her skin feels like it’s on fire, even though she’s not even near the fireplace. She knows he doesn’t mean that, she knows. But she can’t help and wish anyways.
“What, you’re stuck to me?” she teases. “How are you never going to let me go?”
Ace smirks. “You did say I was growing on you.”
“Like a fungus, Ace.”
“I am a fun-guy, Nancy.” She groans at his pun as he laughs, a carefree sound that echoes in her ears.
God, she wants to pull that laugh from him for the rest of her life. And even then, she doesn’t think it would ever be enough.
It was more intoxicating than anything she’d drunk before, more potent than any adrenaline rush.
She ignores the way her heart twists in her chest. “Well, uh, your dad means well.”
Ace shrugs. “He really likes you.”
Her stomach should not be fluttering at that, that his dad likes her. But it’s stupid, because Ace has her dreaming about things she thought she left behind when she was young. Staying somewhere. Building something. What, she doesn’t know. But it doesn’t matter unless it’s with him.
“Of course he does,” she says. “I’m amazing.”
He lays down one more word. “Yeah. You really are. But not at Scrabble.”
Nancy glances down at the board. “What?”
He smirks. “I win.”
Nancy’s mouth drops open as she takes in the board, eyes flashing down to the notepad she’s been taking down the points in. There are no more tiles left between them, and she adds up the numbers she’s been absently jotting down on the page.
He’s right.
“Are you kidding me?” Nancy glares at him. “How did you beat me?”
Ace smirks. “Practicing with my dad. He’s ruthless too.”
“I hate you.”
Ace looks at her mournfully with those blue eyes, and she feels herself already softening, melting as easily as a lit candle under his gaze. “Don’t be mean, Nancy.”
She scowls at him—tries, really, but she can’t stay mad. “Just this once.”
He grins. “You’re the best.”
“It doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things because it doesn’t count towards anything.” She crosses her arms. “I still hold the winning spot at game night.”
“Not for long.”
Nancy glares at him. “You’re not going to beat me.”
“Hmm,” Ace says, starting to clean up the game. “Don’t count your oysters before you fish, Nancy.”
She rolls her eyes, standing up to put the game back on the shelf. “You got lucky.”
“This is why you lost! The word is skill.”
Nancy turns around and walks over to him, poking him in the chest. “I am not letting you take Scrabble from me.”
He looks down at her and smirks, hair falling in his eyes. “I can’t help it if I’m naturally good at this game.”
“You can’t be naturally good at Scrabble,” Nancy says, stepping away from him and trying to put a bit of space between them. She leans against the bookshelf. “It doesn’t work like that, it’s not like singing.”
“I’m naturally good at a lot of things,” Ace protests. “Your dad thinks I could be a secret tech billionaire, I’m good enough with computers.”
Nancy laughs at that. “Please, Ace.”
“It just proves I’m naturally gifted at many things.”
Nancy arches a brow. “Like what?”
“Baking, for one. Driving.” Ace ticks them off on his fingers. “I’d say I have pretty decent taste in music. We’re here and not stuck in the storm, so I was a pretty good Eagle Scout. And I think I’m great at compliments.”
Nancy snorts. “Great at compliments? What does that even mean?”
Ace shrugs. “It’s something my mom always said I should be good at.”
“How can you even be good at giving someone compliments?”
Ace’s mouth quirks up in a smile. “Are you asking me to prove it to you?”
She shrugs. “Okay.”
“Nick is loyal,” he says. “Like, uncommonly loyal. Bess’s optimism is something to admire. George is brave, braver than most of us.” His gaze locks on her. “You’re driven.”
Nancy smiles. “Stealing your mom’s compliments? I wouldn’t call that good at compliments, Ace.”
“I’m not done.” Ace steps towards her. “You’re dedicated. You give everything to the people around you and you never ask for anything in return. You’re smart, I mean, you know you are.” Ace steps a little closer, and she digs her fingers into the bookshelf tighter to force down the urge to run. “But I’m just—constantly in awe of you.” He swallows. “There’s a lot I could stand to learn from you.”
She laughs, though it’s weak. “Ace, you’re really smart too.”
He nods. “Yeah, but I could still learn things from you. You’re generous, so kind. You care so much about everyone around you—enough that you’ll put yourself through pain for them. You took in Bess, gave her a home.”
“We all did.”
“You’re amazing, Nancy,” he murmurs. He steps closer, barely a foot away. “You have such a strong sense of justice, of right and wrong, more than most people. You just want to make things better, and I—can’t tell you how admirable that is. You believe in this town, you believe in the people around you. You believe in them when no one else does.” He reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers curving along the line of her jaw. “You believed in me when no one else did. And you—you inspire everyone around you.”
“Ace.” Her voice sounds like he has just recited a love poem to her.
(hadn’t he?)
She’s reading too much into this, she has to be. “You’re just making that up.”
He shakes his head. “You know Ryan told me that?” Ace’s eyes are kind on hers, and he is so close she wants to melt into him and never leave. “That being around you made him want to be better.”
“No,” she whispers.
“He’s right.” Ace’s fingers just barely graze her cheek, but she feels it in every cell in her body.
(no other person has made her feel like this. to even compare ace to anyone she had been with previous was like comparing a lightning bolt to a flashlight, or even a lighthouse. it couldn’t be done)
“You make everyone around want to be better. They want to be someone you would be proud of, want to be someone you care about.” His eyes dart over his gaze as he is nervous about her reaction. “It would be a privilege to be someone you love.”
The words are on the tip of her tongue, begging for her to say them. Would it really be so bad to tell him? Wouldn’t she survive whatever happened?
“I—” she starts, not knowing what to say to that. “I always thought—people didn’t want it.”
“No.” He shakes his head for emphasis. “No, people want it from you. They want to earn it.”
“It’s not hard to earn,” she breathes.
And Ace has, a thousand times over. He earns it every day, just by being him. Sometimes Nancy thinks all she was put on this earth to do was to love him. If anyone in the world deserves it, it is Ace.
Ace’s gaze searches hers.
(what is he looking for?)
Suddenly, he steps back, putting distance between them. Nancy blinks, shocked out of a stupor. “There,” he breathes, voice shaking as he runs his hand through his hair. “I, uh, I hope you believe me now.”
She blinks. Right.
“Oh. Um, yeah.” Nancy glances away from him, rubbing her hand down her arm. “For sure.”
Ace looks at her. “It’s getting a little late, I’m gonna get started on dinner.”
She nods. “Yeah, ok. Uh, do you need any help?”
“No, I think I’m good.”
Internally, she’s relieved. She doesn’t think she can handle being around Ace right now. She needed time to settle back to normal, needed time to get back to equilibrium.
She turns around to look for a book to read, to lose herself in order to distract from Ace’s presence.
“Nancy?”
She glances over her shoulder back at him. He’s hovering in the doorway, fingers clutching at the wood. “I know that I wanted to prove something to you,” he says, slow. “But—I meant everything I said too. Don’t think I didn’t.”
With those parting words, he disappears into the kitchen, and Nancy groans, letting her forehead rest against the bookshelf. He was going to kill her.
She avoids him for the next few hours, averting her eyes and burying her head in a book whenever he walks into the living room. The cabin really isn’t that large, and she only feels like it’s getting smaller. She can hardly avoid him.
She’s never been more hyperaware of him in her life, and she prays to god the snow stops soon.
Nancy does, however, finally manage to lose herself in the book, and when she finally snaps it shut, she realizes, with a start, it’s dark around.
A quick glance at the clock shows it’s a few hours later, and she hasn’t seen Ace in a while.
Despite everything, Nancy’s stomach twists uncomfortably. What if he went out to get help in the blizzard? Was he stuck? Would she be able to find him?
Nancy shakes her head, stopping her thoughts in their tracks. She was getting caught up in her thoughts. She knew Ace better than that, and he would have never done something so reckless. That was more something she would do.
Something clatters in the kitchen, and she turns towards it. Obviously. It was dinner time.
Nancy pokes her head in the kitchen. “Ace?”
He’s standing with his back to her at the counter, but turns at the sound of her voice. “Nance?” He gives her a small smile when he sees her standing there. “Hi.”
“Hey.” She digs her nails into the wooden door frame to stop herself from moving closer to him, not trusting herself.
(she couldn’t help it. her body was pulled to his, for longer than she knew. for the first time, she understood what magnetic meant)
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Just trying to figure out what to eat.” He taps his fingers on the table. “I was thinking pizza?” He moves slightly to the side, and she can see the dough in front of him. “Easy and one of the first things I learned how to cook on my own.”
“Without your mom’s help?” She glances at the dough. “Do we have enough for that?”
He shrugs. “It won’t be incredibly fancy, but it’ll be filling and last us a while.”
Good rationale. Ace must see the agreement in her eyes because he turns his back to her again. “So,” he says, conversational. “Good book?”
Unfortunately for Nancy’s ability to speak, he starts kneading the dough, and she forgets how to breathe.
Admires the curve of his body as his muscles shift under his skin. She wants to map it out, with her palms, her fingers, her lips. Wants to spend more than a few hours every day with him—because even that often isn’t enough time. Doesn’t think she’ll ever have enough time, but wants to try anyway.
“Uh, yeah,” she says, distracted by a stray curl of hair around his ear. His earring doesn’t wink from it, and she misses it, suddenly. He’s not wearing a snapback either and she misses that as well.
“What was it about? You know me, always looking to expand my literary horizons.”
“I never took you for the classics type,” she answers, moving closer to him. It’s a bad idea, but suddenly she wants to see his face, look into his eyes.
“Excuse me, I am as intellectual as Dead Poets Society,” Ace counters.
“I meant, you seemed more into like, journalism and exposés. Not—”
“Shakespeare?” She finally rounds the door completely to lean against the counter next to him, pressing against the small of her back as she glances down at the pizza dough.
“Yeah,” she admits.
“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t appreciate Shakespeare?” Ace works his hands into the dough and Nancy follows the motion of his hands naturally with her eyes, watching as his hands work at the dough.
It sears into her head, the way his hands flex, strong and sure, over the dough. His forearms are strained with cords of muscle she wants to follow with her mouth, and it takes everything in her to pull her eyes away and stare at a spot on the wall, decidedly not looking at him.
It feels tattooed on the inside of her eyelids, though.
“Fair point.” She clears her throat, walking over to the fridge. “What else do we need?”
“Uh—I pulled everything out,” he says, jerking his head over at the small table they’ve been having their meals on.
She glances over. “Oh.” Nancy walks over, traces her finger around the top of a jar of canned tomatoes. “Okay, how can I help?”
Ace glances up at her. “You don’t have to, Nancy. I have everything covered.”
She keeps her gaze trained on his face. “Come on, Ace.”
He sighs. “Are you sure?” Smirking slightly, he says, “from what I remember, you’re not……the best in the kitchen.”
She scowls at him. “I’m helping.”
Ace raises his hands. “Okay, okay then. Well, come help me roll this out. It’s gonna take longer to do the dough than anything else, so it’s the best thing you can help with.”
“Great,” she agrees. She washes her hands and then walks over to him.
He spreads the flour out over the counter and hands her the rolling pin. “Just start rolling it out.”
Nancy presses her hands into the roller and works it into the dough. She presses down, doesn’t let her eyes flick up until Ace turns and focuses his attention on the food on the dinner table.
She absentmindedly presses the roller further into the dough, not paying attention to it at all as she drinks him in.
She wants to be closer, all of a sudden, after feeling that cold electricity down her spine when she didn’t know where he was. She wants to be close to him with a degree of selfishness that frightens her.
For once, Nancy gives in.
“Ace?” she says, letting the roller slip slightly.
“Mm?” he says, peering between two boxes as he turns around. “Yeah, Nance?”
His eyes flicker up to hers, giving her a quick, reassuring grin before returning to whatever he’s reading. It strikes Nancy, all of a sudden, how easy this is.
(with anyone else, she would have run at the first sign of settling. of something more. but not with ace. this, right here, feels like where she belongs. where they belong. this moment in a kitchen in a snowy cabin. this endless present)
“Um,” she says, trying not to let her force tremble with the force of her realization—rather similar to how she felt when the feelings she’d been having for Ace had finally dawned on her—and giving him a shaking smile. “I actually—don’t know how to do this.”
This, in fact, is a complete lie.
Ace blinks for a second. “Do what?” he says.
God, he was so thick sometimes.
She loves him all the more for it.
“Uh—I’ve never made pizza before.” She holds her hands up helplessly. “I don’t know what to do.”
Two more complete lies.
The truth: for the eighteen years her mother had been around, they’d had pizza nights for as long as she could remember, every other week making homemade pizzas. Nancy had rolled her own dough hundreds of times, for more years than she could count on two hands. She hardly needed Ace’s help with rolling pizza dough.
But there was no real harm in letting him think she did, was there?
Ace squints at her, setting the boxes down. “You’ve made pizza at The Claw before,” he says slowly.
“Uh—” Nancy stammers, her cheeks flushing slightly as she tries to cover up her lie. That had happened like, twice, when they’d all stayed late and gotten dinner together. She didn’t think he was paying that close attention to her, that she’d helped out.
“George did most of the work.” She bites her tongue to stop herself from rambling, speaking slowly. “I just helped out occasionally.”
Ace raises his eyebrow.
Nancy shrugs, playing nonchalant. “I could really use the help.”
Ace’s eyes flash up and down her body. “Ok,” he says.
She gets the impression he knows she’s lying, but she doesn’t particularly care, because he’s coming closer anyways.
“Ok,” he murmurs, crossing the small kitchen to her. She turns back just as he reaches her, clearing her throat and resisting the urge to nervously tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, like a blushing schoolgirl.
“First,” he says, touching his fingers to the back of her hand. “You didn’t even put any flour.”
“Huh?”
Nancy looks down at the dough, blinking in shock. She hadn’t meant to do that.
Ace’s voice is impossibly close to her ear when he whispers, “Distracted, Drew?”
Nancy wills her heart not to flip in her chest at his proximity, and fails miserably. “Um,” she says, struggling for air. “I told you. Really bad.”
“Mm,” Ace hums, stepping closer, his other hand coming to rest on her arm. He’s all around her, and suddenly she realizes how truly badly she’s fucked.
God, why did she want to be close to him again?
Ace’s hands dip into the bowl of flour and sprinkle it over the dough. He runs his other hand down her arm, fire trailing in his wake, to rest his hands over hers. “I’ll show you.”
For a little bit, Nancy loses herself in him. In the sound of his voice as he explains it to her, in the way his touch seems to make her skin glow, the way his scent warms her from within. His arms wrap around her, caging her against the counter, but it brings her a sense of security. She rarely gets to feel this way about Ace, and sometimes, she’s so wrapped up in how it hurts to love Ace, she forgets everything good about loving Ace.
Because there is—so much good.
“Um,” Ace says, voice breaking all of a sudden and pulling her back to reality. “That’s, um, how it works.”
She realizes she’s practically melted back into him, her head resting against his chest. She—hadn’t noticed.
(nancy tries very hard to ignore that it is far too easy to lower her guard when ace is around, but when it stares at her as plain as this, she cannot)
“Right,” Suddenly needing air, she straightens up, focusing all of her attention on the pizza. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”
Ace breathes, and Nancy stifles a shiver as it ghosts over her neck.
He is so close.
“Ok,” he says, voice lower than normal. He steps back.
The loss of him is like the sun falling out of the sky; an instant darkness that surrounds her. She knows she can fight it off without him, but he gives her strength. More than he would ever know. Ace lights her way.
He clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is normal. “I’m gonna go get started on the sauce.”
“Okay,” Nancy says, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as shaky and breathless to him as it does to her. “Sounds good.”
When she finally finishes rolling the dough and turns around to see what else she can help with, Ace has got the sauce bubbling on the stove, and is laying out an assortment of vegetables. “So, what can I do next?”
“Go sit down,” he says easily.
“But, Ace, I want to—”
“Nancy,” he says, something in his voice stopping her in her tracks. It’s soft as he turns around, eyes peering at her. “Seriously, I’ll bring the stuff over to you, we can make them together.”
Nancy’s heart flips in her chest again. “Only if I can have extra olives.”
“Sure,” he agrees, pointing the spoon to the living room. “I’ll call you, go relax.”
Nancy shakes her head. “Oh, no way.” She hops up on the counter instead. “I’ll just stay here and talk to you.”
Ace shakes his head, smiling. “Do whatever you want,” he says but the tips of his ears are pink.
They chat lightly while he cooks. Frankly, Nancy is half distracted by him, by the way he moves, but she regales him with tales of cases she’s long memorized the details of so he doesn’t notice.
She even gets distracted halfway into making their pizzas when he reaches over and steals one of her peppers, popping it into his mouth.
His eyes sparkle as he looks at her, and she has never seen Ace this carefree and easy in her life. It makes her want to see this forever.
“Don’t do that,” she snaps, stealing one from his pizza.
He raises his hands. “Okay, okay,” he laughs.
They lapse into silence as they finish, stealing glances at one another all the while.
When Ace places them in the oven, they retire to the living room.
Nancy pulls out her phone and looks through some materials on another case while Ace pulls a book from the bookshelf and starts reading it. When the timer goes off, he gets dinner and they break their rule, eating it in the living room.
She feels loose, easy, and comfortable. She feels, against all odds, safe.
It’s no surprise that she falls asleep on the couch soon after, slipping into darkness.
Nancy wakes up in the most unceremonious of ways: falling off the couch.
She winces as she pushes herself up off the floor—the couch wasn’t a tall one, but falling on the carpet still wasn’t exactly comfortable. She pushes her hair through her hair, glancing around her to get her bearing. She must have fallen asleep in the living room.
Ace is in the chair opposite her, sleeping quietly, and Nancy’s heart flips as she looks at him. Why didn’t he take the bed, if she was here?
Nancy resolves to get up and brush her hair, straightening out her clothes—god, she really needs another shower—in the bathroom before making her way to the kitchen.
Ace is still asleep when she steps out and she decides to make him breakfast to give him another moment to rest.
She could really use some coffee, but it’s nowhere to be found, so instead she drops two tea bags in the mugs and roots through the pantry. She’s nowhere near Ace, with his sinfully good pancakes, so she scrounges up the rest of the eggs and makes them scrambled eggs.
She’s just plating them when she hears her voice. “Nancy?”
“Hey,” she says, turning around. His eyes are slightly sleepy still, his hair tousled, and the sight is so tempting she has to plant her feet to stop herself from going over to him. “I made breakfast.”
Ace runs his hand through his hair, yawning. “You didn’t have to.”
She shrugs. “I wanted to. Go brush your teeth, we can eat now.”
Ace shuffles in the direction of the bathroom, glancing back at her for a split second before he disappears through the doorway.
She busies herself with setting their mugs down, and then pulls out the book of crosswords she saw in the living room, flipping through until she comes to one that hasn’t been done. She fills the answers in slowly, waiting for Ace to join her.
He does, quickly, slightly less disheveled, although the smile he gives her as he sits down is tinged with sleep. “Hi.”
“Good morning.” Nancy flips the book closed. “The weather still bad?”
Ace nods. “Yeah, but it is slowing down. I think we might—actually be able to leave tomorrow, if not, the day after.”
Nancy’s stomach twists at his words. She is torn. She wants to go back, she misses her family so much. But there is a part of her, a part that is larger than she cares to admit, that begs to stay here with Ace. In this little world they’ve crafted for themselves, where she can pretend there is something more, that they have built something together.
“That’s good,” she murmurs, taking a sip of her tea so she doesn’t say anything else. Ace digs his fork into his eggs, shoveling them into his mouth, and Nancy rolls her eyes.
“What?” he says, catching sight of her affronted expression. “I’m a growing boy?”
Nancy rolls her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re twenty-one, not thirteen.”
“I wasn’t aware you stopped being hungry once you hit puberty,” he banters back, reaching out and tugging on a lock of her hair. She bats his hand away and flips back to the crossword, filling it out almost absentmindedly. Ace leans over, peering at it.
“Nephrectomy,” he answers, pointing to a word.
Nancy fills it in. “Didn’t know you liked crosswords.”
“I don’t, I’m just naturally good at them.”
Nancy laughs, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. He’s closer than she thought, their noses almost brushing.
(she waits for him to look away. he doesn’t)
She can’t help but focus on every single detail of his face, her brain bouncing around and going a bit haywire at his proximity, and it zeroes in on the shadow across his jaw she’s not used to seeing.
Without thinking, Nancy reaches out, dragging her finger down the line of his jaw, feeling it scratch under her fingertips. “What’s this?” she murmurs.
“My attempt at a beard,” Ace deadpans.
Nancy chuckles. “I couldn’t tell, it’s so patchy.”
“Ouch, Nance.”
She giggles. “Sorry.” Her fingers brush over his jaw again, slower this time, admiring how sharp it is under her touch. She can feel the muscles of it move slightly as he clenches his jaw, eyes locked on hers. “I’ve just never seen you with stubble.”
He gives her a grin, one she can feel under the pads of her fingers. “I usually shave every few days. Haven’t had an opportunity lately.”
“Good.”
Ace raises an eyebrow. “Good?”
“I don’t like beards.”
Ace blinks at her and Nancy realizes what she’s just said, like an idiot. She flushes. “I mean—some guys just shouldn’t have beards,” she rushes to add. “Not that—my opinion would impact what you do and you shouldn’t let it. I just—think you look better without one. But that’s just me.”
She clamps her mouth shut to cut off her ramblings, lest she sound even more like an idiot. It’s a bit too late, because Ace’s mouth is twitching with silent amusement as he looks at her, but she raises her head and salvages what little pride she has left.
“I guess we have to get out of here soon then,” he teases. “So I don’t get a full beard and blind you with my ugliness.”
Nancy sticks her tongue out at him. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she protests weakly.
Ace just leans back, finally pulling himself away from her touch, but his eyes sparkle with joy, a wide smile stretched across his face.
Nancy never wants that look to leave. She never wants him to feel anything other than happy again, and most selfish of all, she wants to be the cause of that look. She wants to make him that happy for the rest of her life.
“Sure you didn’t, Drew,” he laughs. “Now,” he says, knocking his foot against her leg slightly. “Finish your breakfast, so I can destroy you at chess.”
Nancy raises her eyebrows. “Destroy me at chess, are you going to?”
Ace shrugs. “It’s inevitable.”
“Oh, you’re on,” she mutters.
Nancy lazes around for the entire first half of the day. She’s been running—doing so much all the time lately that she forgot how nice it was to not do anything. She’s sure in a few hours she’ll feel stir crazy, but she doesn’t now and so she’s going to enjoy it.
She spends the entire morning wrapped up in a blanket and watching the fireplace dance, occasionally thumbing through the book in her lap to keep her occupied. Eventually, she plays the game of chess with Ace as she promised, the two of them silent.
It’s easy to exist in silence with him. It is a rare feeling, one Nancy hasn’t felt before. But she likes it.
Eventually, though, she does become stir crazy, and she picks up the book, thumbing through it with more purpose.
She’s sure it’s interesting, but for some reason, she can’t focus on it.
Nancy groans, setting the book down. “Ace,” she says.
Ace looks up at her. “Yeah, Nance?”
“I’m bored.”
Ace laughs, snapping his book shut. He leans forward, shifting on the couch to sit closer to her. She pulls her legs up on the chair. “You’re bored.”
Nancy sighs. “There’s nothing to do here.” Her gaze falls on the book he’s holding. When he tilts it slightly, the light from the fire catches and the title flashes gold.
“Shakespeare?” she murmurs, reaching out and taking the book from him. She runs her thumb over the letters. “As You Like it?” She glances up at him. “A comedy?”
“Is that so surprising?” he says, reaching back to take it from her. “I thought we went over the Shakespeare thing. It’s what prompted me to pick it up.”
“Insane that this cabin has it,” she comments.
Ace shrugs. “It’s good.”
“Read it to me,” Nancy says, flushing as she realizes what words just slipped out of her mouth. “Um, I mean, you don’t—”
“Okay.”
She blinks at him. “What?”
Ace shrugs. “My mom is a librarian, remember? She read aloud to me.” He sombers for a moment, fingers tracing over the letters on the spine. “For a lot longer than most kids, I think. When my dad had his—his accident, my house got quiet. I didn’t like it. My mom—she started reading to me again. To help keep the quiet away.” He smiles. “I’d love to.”
Nancy gives him a grateful smile in return. “Oh. Okay.”
Ace flips open the book. “Should I just pick up when I stopped?”
“Yeah, but first, can we put another log on the fire?” Nancy wraps her arms around herself. “It’s a bit cold here.”
Ace’s eyes light up. “I have just the thing.” He stands up, gesturing to the fire. “Sit on the floor there, it’ll be warmer; I’ll be right back.”
Nancy opens her mouth to ask, but Ace is already turning around, and his name dies on her tongue.
Sighing, she does as he said, wrapping the blanket around herself and staring into the flames. He’s right, it is warmer here, and the motion of the flames is hypnotic and soothing.
“Here.” She turns to see Ace folding his legs under himself as he sits down next to her, handing her a mug. She takes it, perring down.
“Hot chocolate?”
He shrugs. “I started making it a while ago, it just needed some time on the stove.” He winces. “Sorry, no whipped cream or marshmallows.”
“They would have to be kosher anyways,” she quotes back to him, gratified at the smile that spreads across his face.
She takes a sip of the hot chocolate, stifling a moan. It spreads through her body, thick and hot, and warms her up nearly as well as the fire. “Ace, this is amazing.”
“I’ve got the essentials down,” he says seriously. “Pizza, pancakes, and hot chocolate.”
Nancy laughs, taking another sip. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” She looks at him over the rim of her mug. “Just start wherever,” she murmurs.
Ace flips through the book. “Lucky for you,” he says, “I was just about to start my favourite scene.”
Nancy sits back and sips her drink, getting lost in the easy way Ace reads aloud. He’s familiar with the words, and it’s doubly attractive and soothing. She’s read the play, of course, but there’s something in Ace’s voice that makes her see it in a new light.
She finishes her hot chocolate and moves closer to him, resting her thigh against his as he continues to read. She stifles a yawn, tiredness settling in as she listens to him.
Ace stops, looking at her. “Do you want to lie down?”
“Just a little,” Nancy murmurs. She’s surprised she doesn’t even fight him on it which is a sign of how tired she is.
Come to think of it, the couch wasn’t particularly comfortable. She had no idea how Ace was dealing with it.
Glancing up at him, she suddenly can see dark circles under his eyes. “You’re tired too,” she notes.
He winces. “The couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable.”
Nancy lays down, patting the space next to her. “Lie down. We both could use the rest.”
Ace arches an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t prefer the bed?”
Nancy’s brain short circuits at the implication. “What?” she says, dumbly.
Ace’s chin jerks towards the hallway. “You have the bed, you don’t want to relax there?”
“Oh.” Of course. “No.” Nancy glances away. “Um, it’s warmer here.” She pats the spot next to her again, desperate to move. “Come on, just lie down.”
Ace looks at her, and it is like she is a magnifying glass, completely see through, and yet every emotion amplifies under his gaze. He can see right through her. He blinks, and the look in his eyes is gone. “Ok.”
Lying down, he holds the book up above his face. Nancy turns her head to look inside. “I haven’t gotten to my favourite part yet, though.”
Nancy lays her hand on her stomach, ignoring how hot his leg feels, pressed up against hers. “Then keep going.”
Ace clears his throat. “Me believe it? You may as soon make her that you love believe it, which I warrant she is apter to do than to confess she does. That is one of the points in the which women still give the lie to their consciences. But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the verses on the trees wherein Rosalind is so admired?”
Nancy sighs, watching him read, paying more attention to the way his mouth moves as he speaks than the words he’s saying.
“I swear to thee, youth, by the white hand of Rosalind, I am that he, that unfortunate he.” Ace takes a deep breath. “But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?”
There is a pause before he says his next words, one that is so long Nancy almost turns her face to the book, but he starts just then. “Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.”
There is something in the way he speaks, a slight strain to his voice, that gives Nancy pause.
“Are you thinking of someone?” It’s the only conclusion she can come to.
Ace startles, setting the book down and turning to face her. “What?”
Nancy quotes back, “‘neither rhyme nor reason can express how much.’ Were you—um—thinking about someone in particular when you said that?”
Ace’s gaze trails over her face, and he is silent for a second before responding. “Yes.”
Nancy feels the vicious stab of jealousy in her stomach, even as she gives him a sad smile. “Someone you loved a lot but couldn’t tell?”
Ace pauses, licks his lips. “Something like that,” he murmurs.
Nancy frowns sympathetically, putting up a front even as her heart feels like it is being clawed to shreds. “I’m sorry. I—that’s hard.”
She can’t exactly commiserate with him without bleeding herself dry, stripping away every one of her defenses until she was left raw and wounded. But she can try to let him know she’s here. “You always got me, though.”
Ace smiles, even as his eyes are strained a bit. “Thanks, Nancy,” he murmurs.
It’s sincere, even as there is something clouding his vision she can’t quite place. Nancy bites back something else she wants to say, something stupid and idiotic. He looks away from her, staring up at the ceiling, completely silent.
She worries at her lip, debating whether to say something.
She spends so long thinking about it, she falls asleep.
Nancy wakes up slowly, feeling like she’s under layers and layers of clouds. She’s so warm, and comfortable, she feels like she could fall right back asleep, like she could stay here forever.
She yawns, determined to do just that, but then something moves under her, and she startles. What?
Nancy opens her eyes to see an arm wrapped around her waist, her face tucked into a shoulder, and she jerks back slightly to find she’s wrapped herself around Ace.
Fucking hell. Nancy’s cheeks burn, seeing her arm is wrapped around his waist, his hand resting on her hip, fingers hot against her skin. Thank god he’s asleep.
She has half a mind to disentangle herself from him, but she is really warm. And it’s a lot warmer here than it is in the rest of the cabin. A quick glance at the windows shows it’s dark out, but that means nothing this late into winter. Ace is still sleeping peacefully, though, and if Nancy’s being honest with herself, she wants to get more sleep as well.
How many times has she dreamt of this? Of being able to hold him, of being held by him. It’s here, and—she doesn’t think she can give it up.
So, she doesn’t, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, relishing in his warmth and letting the scent of him lure her to sleep.
This time when Nancy wakes up, she wakes Ace up with her.
When she blinks, and raises her head, confused as to where she is, her head knocks into Ace’s chin, and he winces.
“Ouch,” he mutters into her hair.
“Ace?” Nancy yawns again, looking around. “You’re up?”
“No,” he grumbles, nuzzling her hair slightly, and Nancy gasps. His hand on her waist draws her closer to him slightly. “I’m cold,” he complains. “And you’re really warm.” His fingers tighten on her waist, the warmth of his leg pressing against hers. “Go back to sleep.”
Nancy does her best not to melt back into him (by which she means, she doesn’t try very hard at all), but shakes her head slightly. “No, we have to get up.”
Ace breathes, the warmth of his breath washing over her. “Why?”
“Why? Ace,” she says, turning around to look at him. “We have to go back.”
Ace opens one blue eye to look at her and frowns. “It’s probably still snowing.”
Nancy raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to check?”
Ace groans, finally pulling away from her to run his hands through his hair, falling back on the ground after. He turns to her slightly, hair tousled. “I want to sleep.”
Nancy shakes her head, pushing herself up. “Come on, sleepyhead. We have to get going.”
She pushes herself up, taking a step away from him and straightening her clothes out. She had to keep moving to get away from him as soon as he let her go, otherwise she would go right back to him, beg him to hold her again.
(will you hold me?)
Nancy physically shakes her head to dispel the memory—is it a memory if it never really happened?—and walks to the kitchen, intent on brushing her teeth.
She runs her hands through her hair, wincing when it catches on several tangles. She really needs to comb it out, but there wasn’t anything like that here.
She does her best to detangle it with her fingers, braiding it back to mitigate the damage.
Emerging from the bathroom, Nancy goes to the windows to check the weather.
She gasps when she sees, finally.
The snow’s stopped.
“Ace!” she calls, turning around, regret punching through her a split second after she says his name. She can’t hide it, though, no matter how much she might want to.
Ace appears in the doorway. “I saw,” he says, handing her her coat. “Just let me brush my teeth and we can leave, ok?” he says, already shrugging on his own jacket and making his way to the bathroom.
Nancy nods eagerly. “Yeah, of course.”
She laces up her boots as she waits, making sure to tuck her jeans into them, grateful she had worn the taller ones. The snow, even if it had stopped, was deep, and she needs to stay as dry as possible.
Florence was probably half buried, but if they got back to the road, they could call a tow and a car to get back home.
“Ok,” Ace says, coming out. He slips his own boots on quickly, tucking his hair back behind his ears. “Ready?”
Nancy swallows roughly, feeling like she should say something else, take advantage of this last moment between them.
But she can’t manage to. She can’t manage to say anything, because she can’t bear to ruin their friendship. Not when it is the most important thing in her life.
“Yeah,” she says, hoping her voice doesn’t shake. “I’m ready.”
Ace holds his hand out to her. “Come on.”
She stares at it for a split second before sliding her hand into his, grateful for the gloves that separate them.
Even through the layers, his hand is warm.
Ace tugs her out the door gently.
After being in the small cabin with only the firelight and the few lights provided by the generator, the curtains drawn shut to keep it as warm as possible, the sunlight is blinding, especially against the white snow, and Nancy stops in her tracks, blinking against the harsh glare.
The forest is completely silent, the snow muffling the sounds of nature that Nancy would normally hear. As she steps out onto the first step of the porch, the snow crunches under her foot, sounding obscenely loud in the stillness of the forest. The snow is deep, and there are no marks on it but the occasional footprints of an animal—a deer, a rabbit, and a fox.
“Do you know where to go?” she asks, turning to Ace.
He gives her a smile. “I wouldn’t have brought us out here if I didn’t.”
He points to their right. “That way. Follow me, I’ll get us there.”
Nancy follows him, clutching his hand tightly, and drawing her jacket around her tighter as she wades through the snow.
It’s cold, but it’s beautiful, and with Ace’s hand in hers, in another world, Nancy might be able to pretend they were here for enjoyment, on a romantic walk. In another world, he might draw her in closer, press his lips against hers. In another world, she might be able to ask him to do this again. In another world, this might not be a unique occurrence.
Nancy puts those thoughts out of her mind. Wanting more from Ace, always wanting more from him, would only break her heart.
Ace glances behind him as he leads her through the forest. “Are you ok?”
Nancy gives him a smile. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
Nancy shakes her head, not ready to open up to him quite yet. “It’s nothing.”
Ace looks at her as the road slowly comes into view. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right, Nancy?” He kicks the snow out onto the road, clearing a small path for her to step through. They stand next to Florence, which, as Nancy predicted, is covered in snow. Ace brushes some snow off the handle, and pops it open. A shower of snowflakes falls to the ground, dusting his hair as he ducks in to grab the snow brusher on the back seat.
“Not too bad,” Ace mutters, almost to himself. “I can actually get us out of here, just need to clear out the snow.”
“Great.” Nancy pulls out her phone, which blows up with texts and calls now that she has service. She sends a message to her friends and her dads that she’s fine. “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
Ace doesn’t say anything, silent as he clears away the snow around Florence’s tires. It’s not until he gets to the windshield that he finally speaks again.
He looks at her across the car, eyes bright and intense as he brushes the snow off the windshield. “I’m your friend.” His eyes flicker up to hers again, teeth biting into his lip slightly. “You know I care about you, Nancy. I’ll always want to hear what you have to say.”
Nancy cannot take it anymore, cannot take the way he is looking at her and the words he is saying. They are all entirely too much.
(they are what she desperately wants but cannot have)
“But you don’t, Ace!”
He blinks. “What?”
“You don’t care about me,” Nancy says, the words spilling out of her before she can take them back. “You don’t care about me like that and I—I can’t stand here and listen to you tell me that.”
“Of course I care about you, Nancy,” he argues, putting the brush down and stepping around the car. “You know that.”
“But it’s not the same!”
“Not the same as what?”
“As me!” She runs her hands through her hair, frustrated, tears pricking at her eyes, hot on her skin. “You can’t—say stuff like that, it hurts, Ace.”
“Why?” Ace’s brow furrows, frustrated. “Nancy, you deserve to be told that people care about you.”
“Not when it’s you!”
“Why?” He steps closer, jaw clenching, eyes flush with an emotion she cannot quite place. “Why am I different?”
“Because I’m in love with you!” Nancy snaps. “I’m in love with you and—and you go on about how you care about me and all of these nice things you think about me and you take care of me and you’re always here for me, and it messes with my brain, Ace! It hurts to be around you and love you and not be able to tell you, and then you look at me like that and you say things like that, and I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how to act—act normal and be around you. It hurts.”
Ace stares at her, and Nancy holds her breath. She’s either completely ruined things between them, or she hasn’t, and she cannot figure out which one it is.
Just as Ace opens his mouth to say something, a honk pierces the air, jolting them both out of their trance.
“Nancy!”
Nancy glances over to see Ryan hanging out of the window of his car. “Thank god,” he calls. “Get in, Carson’s been worried sick about you.”
“I—I texted you guys,” she stammers. Her fingers curl around one another. “I—”
“Come on, Nance,” Ryan breathes. “Let’s go home.”
She throws a helpless glance at Ace. He swallows. He doesn’t say anything.
Nancy can find no excuse to fight Ryan, can find no reason to stay.
Instead, she climbs into the passenger seat of Ryan’s car, staring straight ahead so she doesn’t see how she is leaving Ace standing there, alone.
She doesn’t see Ace for three days after that.
It’s nerve-wracking, and Nancy loses count of the number of times she picks up her phone to type out a message, or to go to his contact, her thumb hovering over the call button.
Sometimes, she sees the little bubbles pop up as well, showing that he’s typing, and she holds her breath, waiting for what he might say.
But he never sends it.
It’s just as well. Nancy can’t start it, doesn’t even know what she would say.
She could lie, claim that she didn’t mean any of it, but that would be dishonest in the worst way. The furthest thing from the truth possible. Because as painful as this was, as painful as it was loving him, it was who she was. Loving Ace was a part of her and to try and get rid of it would be like trying to cut a piece of her out.
(if love was pain, then nancy was hurting, but she would for him)
So she stays silent, unsure of how to bring it up, waiting for him.
She had said her piece, hadn’t she? It was his turn now.
Nancy figures she can see him once the new year begins, and then they will be able to figure this out, navigate this uncertain ground together. It would be hard, but she could do it.
That is, until she hears about the holiday party her dads are throwing.
“Tonight?” Nancy gapes at them, crossing her arms. “You guys didn’t think to tell me about this before?”
Ryan glances at Carson, who shrugs. “Well, it was sort of a last minute thing, Nancy. Nick mentioned that he would have one at the Youth Center for the kids, and then I realized he and George could probably do with a more adult-oriented one. You kids have been through so much.”
Carson steps forward, smiling gently at Nancy. “Come on, Nancy. It’ll be nice—we’ve invited several of the officers, and all of your friends will be here.”
Nancy swallows roughly. “I just—wish you guys had told me a little sooner.”
All of her friends. That meant Ace would be here and she can’t face him yet, can’t face him before she’s prepared herself.
Ryan gives her a strange look. “Are you alright, Nancy?”
And she can’t say no without making them suspicious, can’t say no without stripping herself bare and revealing why. So she plasters on a grin and nods, resolving to avoid him best she could during the party and somehow survive.
It’s easy, for the first hour. She’s busy hosting, busy welcoming people into her home. She makes herself scarce when Carson welcomes Ace and his parents into their home, sequestering herself in the kitchen, and yet she cannot ignore him, she is not capable of shutting him out completely.
(there are the five human senses that are widely known, and then senses beyond that; time, space, position. nancy has another one, a unique sense that only activates itself when ace is around. there is a part of her reserved only for him, for knowing where he is at all times)
It gets harder, as time goes on. She sees him talking with Nick, and when his eyes catch hers, his hand tightens around the glass in his hand for a split second before loosening. Nancy swallows and ducks her head down, brushing her hair behind her ears as she continues chatting with Jean.
The further the party goes on, the harder she finds it to avoid him, even though Ace doesn’t exactly seem to be making any effort to speak to her, at least not quite yet.
All of that changes when she finds herself, after chatting with Nick, turning around, and bumping right into Ace.
“Whoa,” he says, hands immediately going to her elbows to steady her.
Nancy pushes herself off of him instantly. “Sorry,” she mutters, ducking her head. She tries to move past him, to give him the space he so clearly seems to need, but he stops her, holding onto her wrist.
“Wait, Nancy—”
She stops in her tracks, turning around to look at him.
Ace’s eyes plead with her. She sighs. “What, Ace?” She pulls her wrist from his grasp and crosses her arms, looking at him. “What do you have to say?”
He just looks at her. Her gaze darts between his eyes and his mouth, wondering what words are resting on the tip of his tongue, what he will say next.
It turns out there are no words, because before Nancy can take another breath, Ace is moving towards her, his hands curling around her jaw to tilt her head up and press his mouth against hers.
She doesn’t even stiffen in shock, instead melting into him right away, her arms dropping to wrap around his waist, nails digging into his back as she draws him closer. Ace presses his body against hers, pushes her up against the threshold of her doorway, and kisses her.
Her body curves into his, so easily and fully she cannot tell where he ends and she begins. He kisses her, kisses her like she is sunshine and he has been lost in a dark cave. He kisses her like there is no one else in the room but them, like this will be the only time he will ever kiss her.
She is on fire in his arms, like flames are licking at her from the inside out, burning her up.
With Ace, Nancy is only too happy to burn.
She kisses them back until her lungs threaten to give out, until her knees go a bit weak, despite being pressed up against the doorway. And when she finally pulls away, she doesn’t let him go, keeping him close.
“I spent,” he breathes out against her lips. “Three days trying to find the right words to say.” When he opens his eyes, they’re bright blue, like a star, and suddenly Nancy knows what it must feel like to have the full force of the sun trained on her.
Ace’s eyes are like twin stars, and she loses herself in them. “What?” she murmurs.
“Three days,” he repeats. He kisses her again, soft and gentle, and it feels like slipping into a worn, loved sweater. “I tried to—make it perfect. I wanted to tell you I felt the same way, that I—I loved you too.” Even now as he says it, the words are clunky, tripping over his tongue as they come out of his mouth, and yet she loves him for trying nonetheless. “And you deserve poetry. I wanted to—to give you poetry.” He laughs. “I even asked my mom.” Another kiss, this time on her upper lip.
Nancy chuckles. “What did she say?”
“She said that I couldn’t—use anyone else’s words. That I had to find my own.”
His eyes, searching, on hers. A flashlight into her soul, into the deepest, darkest parts of her. The parts of her she keeps hidden from everyone else that he uncovers anyways.
“So I spent three days trying to figure out what I wanted to say to you,” he continues. His hands shift slightly, sliding up her jaw to cradle her head, and his nose brushes hers. “And then I saw you and I—realized that I didn’t need words.”
Ace draws away, and Nancy aches with it, aches with every inch of distance he puts between them, even as she knows he isn’t going far.
(love is togetherness)
“I wasted time,” he murmurs, thumb smoothing over her cheek, smoothing away every rough and hardened edge of her soul, healing her from within, “trying to figure out what to say. And I didn’t want to waste any more time. I didn’t have to tell you how I felt—I tried that already. I just had to show you.”
“Show me that you loved me?”
Ace nods. “Yes,” he whispers. He leans down and kisses the corner of her mouth, trailing his lips to her mouth to kiss her, chastely. “And, if you’re up to it,” he says, pulling away fully to look her in the eyes, “I can—can keep showing you?”
Nancy smiles. “For how long?”
“As long as you’ll have me.”
Nancy laughs, bringing her hands up to curl around his wrists. His pulse is hammering against her palms, fast as the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Strangely, it soothes her, how nervous he is, because she is nervous too.
With Ace, she is always on equal ground. He is her partner, in every sense of the word, and that is a fact she knows she can always take comfort in.
“Are you sure you want to promise me something like that? I’m the daughter of a lawyer, you shouldn’t promise anything non-binding.”
Ace grins. “Nancy, I don’t think I’ll ever regret promising you anything.”
She kisses him back. “If you’re sure.”
“Finally!”
Nancy startles, pulling away from Ace to find their friends watching them, all with various smug expressions on their faces. Bess stalks over to them. “This is lovely. Now we can all go on a triple date. Come on!” She grins at both of them. “I nicked a bottle of champagne from the fridge, we can go get drunk in your room.”
Nancy and Ace share a glance, biting back smiles. “Ready?” he asks again. He holds his hand out once more.
Nancy takes it. “Ready.”
