My lips still remembered his kiss.
But my brain?
It was screaming.
Because sneaking back into the house soakedfromtherain and wellpastcurfew was kind of hard to explain to my parents.
I barely got two steps inside before—
"Hope Marie Mallory."
I winced.
Both my parents stood in the living room, arms crossed, expressions carved from granite.
"Where have you been?" my mother demanded.
"I—"
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Dad added, eyes narrowed.
I swallowed. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry."
"You didn't answer your phone," Mom snapped. "We were about to call the police."
"I said I'm sorry."
Dad's voice dropped lower. "We don't raise our daughter to sneak around in the dark with boys like—"
"Don't," I said quietly.
"Hope."
"Don't call him 'boys like that.' You don't know him."
"I know enough," he said. "And you're grounded."
---
Grounded meant no phone.
No friends.
No café.
And definitely no Ace.
For three days, I was a ghost in my own house.
But the silence? It made everything louder.
The way Ace had looked at me that night.
The pain in his voice.
The way it felt when we finally chose each other—just for a second.
It wasn't just a mistake.
It was the beginning of something we weren't supposed to want.
But did anyway.
---
Melanie came by on day four, despite my "no visitors" status.
She flopped onto my bed and stared at me.
"You still with him?"
I hesitated. "Yeah."
She sighed, softer this time. "Then just promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't let him pull you under. If he starts sinking again… swim."
I didn't reply.
But I understood.
---
On Friday, Ace slipped a note into my locker.
No texts. Just paper.
'Friday. 5 PM. Old greenhouse behind Hollow Creek Trail. Trust me.'
My heart flipped.
So I lied to my parents, put on a hoodie, and went.
---
The greenhouse was falling apart.
Glass cracked. Ivy creeping up rusted metal.
But inside? It was warm. Quiet. Lit by a string of fairy lights someone had run through the beams like a secret dream.
Ace sat on an overturned crate, sketchbook in hand, headphones around his neck.
"You found it," he said with a smile.
"You made this place look like magic."
"I needed a space that felt… different."
I walked over, sat beside him. "What do you draw?"
"Things I wish were real."
He flipped the book toward me.
The first page?
Me.
Sitting at the café, smiling into my journal.
My breath caught.
"You drew me?"
He shrugged, suddenly shy. "You looked… real. And peaceful. I wanted to remember it."
"Ace…"
"You calm the noise, Hope."
My throat tightened.
But before I could answer, a voice echoed through the glass.
"Well, well. Never thought I'd find you here again."
Ace stood in an instant, face hardening.
I turned—and there he was.
JaxonCarter.
Ace's brother.
---
He looked older than Ace. Taller. Eyes sharper.
He walked in with a confidence that chilled the air around him.
"I heard you're spending time with Daddy's favorite now," he said. "Sweet little Hope. What a name."
Ace's fists clenched. "What are you doing here?"
"Just got out. Figured I'd see what baby brother's been up to."
"Leave."
Jaxon's eyes flicked to me. "She doesn't know, does she?"
"Jaxon."
"She doesn't know what really happened that night. How you made me take the fall."
I froze.
"What?"
Ace didn't move. Didn't blink.
"He's lying," he said quietly.
But something in his voice cracked.
"Tell her, Ace," Jaxon said, voice like a weapon. "Tell her how you let them think I broke in. Tell her how you setmeup to protect yourself."
I backed away. "Ace…?"
His eyes met mine. Pained. Desperate.
"It's not what you think."
But I was already running.
Because the thing about love?
It feels like flying…
Until you realize the ground was never there.
---