Building Faith (Long Beach Series Book 2) (23 page)

“No, it's Zoey's. She didn't like my original outfit.” She sips more of the water and gazes at me. “Do you like it?” she asks me curiously when she sets the bottle aside.

I'm still kneeling on the carpet, not yet ready to move away. I hold her gaze. “I'd like it a lot better if I knew it was meant for me.”

Puzzlement flickers in her eyes. “Why would you think I'd dress up for someone else?”

“You hid your freckles, and I see you've been with Logan,” I can't help but say in a tight tone.

She automatically reaches up and touches her cheek with her free hand. “Zoey did my makeup. Why would you think I've been with Logan?”

I nod to her wrist. “I see you got a new tat.”

She nods. “I got it Wednesday night. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Did he ask you out?” I'm barely hanging on to my temper at the thought of her going out with Logan.

Her pretty blue eyes search mine. “He did, but I turned him down. I said I was interested in someone else. You thought...are you jealous?”

“Yeah, Angel, I was jealous thinking you might be seeing him again,” I say bluntly.

“I'm not. There's only you...” She bites her delectable lower lip and her eyes drop.

I sigh with resignation. “We need to talk, but not while you're feeling like crap. Can I swing by later?”

Her eyes lift, and she meets my gaze dead on. “I'd really like that.”

Ace doesn't show up until about mid-afternoon. My nerves are wound tight as I open the door and smile warmly at him. I'm really hoping that the outcome of our conversation is going to positive. If we breakup...

I watch as Ace steps inside and looks around the living room and kitchen. “Where's the cat?”

“Her name is Daisy,” I tease. He has a tendency to call her 'the cat' rather than by her name. “I put her in the bathroom.”

He nods, and his eyes still scan the living room as if he's nervous. That's when I realize that he is nervous. The fact that he's feeling uncertain has me wanting to reassure him. I do the only thing I can think of, I walk over to him and slip my arms around his upper back, hugging him like I've done so many times in the past. His arms immediately come around me, and I feel his lips brush the crown of my head. My cheek presses against his hard chest, and it simply feels wonderful to be in his arms again.

I pull back and look up at him. His eyes are dark with something I've never seen before. “Whatever you have to say to me, it changes nothing unless you want it to,” I promise gently.

His lips twist, and he looks away. “You haven't even heard what I have to say yet.”

“Do you think any less of me because of my past?” I ask bluntly.

My question has his eyes jerking back to mine, and he looks momentarily offended. “Of course not.”

I reach up and touch his cheek, which tics slightly beneath my hand. “Then you have nothing to worry about,” I assure.

He gazes down at me silently, and I see emotions swirl in the depths of his eyes. I recognize shame, doubt, hope, and a hint of wariness. These are all things that I've felt when I've confided in him about Justin.

I don't want to push him to talk if he's not ready, so I back off and ease out of his arms. “We don't have to talk. We can go do something instead,” I offer.

Surprise flickers across his face. “You'd do that? Just forget what an ass I was Tuesday night and move on?”

“If that's what you want,” I say steadily. I'm hoping he'll choose to be honest with me, but if I'm right about his past, I don't want him to feel pressured into talking about it.

Ace shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I don't deserve you.”

“That's sad that you don't think so, but it doesn't really matter. I think I deserve you, and I'm not giving up on us unless that's what you want to do.” I'm done feeling shy where my feelings are concerned. We either both fight for what we're developing between us or we risk losing it.

Something fierce flares in his eyes, and he steps towards me. “I'm not giving up on us. What we have is new to me and absolutely amazing. You have to know by now that I'd risk anything to keep you in my life,” he reaches for me and pulls me into his arms, his lips lowering to mine.

I expect him to kiss me with his usual assuredness and boldness, but instead, the kiss is sweet and more of a brush of the lips than anything. When the kiss is over with, my eyes flutter open. I look up at him and smile softly. “I really, really like you.” I think I'm in love with him already, but I'm not sure if he's ready for that type of emotional connection.

He smiles and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I really, really like you, too.” I watch as he sobers up and draws in a deep breath, exhaling slightly. “I've asked you questions about your past because it's the reason you stand before me today. Our pasts help shape us into the people we are, and I've always wanted to know the good and the bad because you're important to me. I'm realizing that you need to know about my own past to understand why I'm the way I am. You need to know why I reacted the way I did Tuesday night,” he says quietly.

“I'd like to understand,” I agree carefully. “As long as this is what you want, too.”

He looks momentarily disgusted with himself. “I want to, but I hate appearing weak.”

I reach up and put my hands on either side of his face, making him look at me. “You are the strongest man I know. When I'm with you, I feel safe and protected. There's nothing you can say to me that's going to make me look at it as a sign of weakness inside you. I promise.”

“You still don't know, Faith.”

“Then tell me. Share with me what has you so twisted up inside, and we'll work through it together.”

He releases another sigh before he reaches up and takes both my hands in his. He places a kiss in the center of one of my palms before leading me over to the couch. We sit down side by side, but I immediately turn so that I'm facing him.

Ace rubs a hand over his face. “This is so much harder than I thought it would be.”

“Let's start with something you're comfortable talking about. Why don't you tell me about your family and work your way up to what's bothering you,” I suggest.

He nods, looking slightly relieved and tosses out a company name. “You familiar with it?” he asks as he watches my reaction.

I mull over his question and nod. “Computer software, right?”

“Yes.” His eyes hold mine. “My dad owns it.”

His dad
owns...
Ace isn't just wealthy, he's
rich
. “Okay,” I say softly, not wanting to make too much of a deal out of it.

“My mom comes from old money, and she's always been involved in charitable organizations—that's her place of expertise. She's involved in a lot of worldwide organizations, and it keeps her busy. I grew up with nannies, and as an only child, I was lonely and bored. Don't get me wrong, my parents love me, but we're not an overly affectionate family,” he explains.

I nod, my heart aching for the lonely little boy he must have been.

“As I grew older, I got bored easily. All my friends were wealthy, and it was always the same old shit,” he says dryly. “My daddy bought me this, or my daddy bought me that. Everything was a competition as to who had what. I just grew bored with it, and by the time I reached my pre-teens, I was desperate to know what life was like on the other side.” His lips tighten and he stares at the carpet on the floor, avoiding my eyes. “I was thirteen when I decided I wanted to go to camp. A real camp where regular kids stay for weeks and play games and do outdoor activities. I begged and begged to go,” he says as his lip curls in a way that I've never seen on him before.

This is where his life changes, and I'm silent as I wait. I won't push. My hand feels empty, and I want to reach out to him so badly, but I don't want him to feel like I'm pitying him in any way. I already have a feeling as to where this story is going, but I need him to be able to tell me in his own words.

He still won't look at me, and he grimly continues. “My parents offered to send me to a camp where the rich and elite go, but I was adamant on going to a regular camp with regular kids. They finally signed me up for a six week camp out of exasperation since I wouldn't let the idea go. So I got to see how the other kids lived. Only it wasn't all I thought it would be cracked up to be. At first it was fun. I made new friends—real friends. They didn't care where I came from, they just wanted to have fun and enjoy the summer.”

In the corner of my eye, I see his fists clench and his right knee starts to jiggle slightly, betraying his agitation. I wish there was a way to ease the pain that these memories are causing. All I can do at this point is simply let him talk and listen.

“Then,
she
set her sights on me, and I never had a chance,” he says flatly.

My own fists curl as I fight the urge to touch him. He's still not looking at me, and I can tell he's trying to separate himself from me as he tells his story. I'll let him. For now.

“She was a camp counselor, probably twenty or so. She kept finding ways to be near me, or to touch my hand or arm. I didn't think much of it. I mean, I was aware of girls and all that, but I was paying attention to the girls my own age, not the ones that were supposed to be trustworthy adults.” Disgust flickers across his features, and he reaches up to run a hand over his face. “I was always taller than the other kids my own age. I'm just naturally built, and I never had to work hard to buff up, even at that age. A lot of people mistook me for fifteen or sixteen rather than thirteen.” He shakes his head, his eyes finally flickering to mine. “She knew my age, but she didn't care.”

I meet his gaze unflinchingly and wait.

He looks away, lips flattening in a line before continuing. “She got me alone one night after a campfire. I realized then and there that she was interested in me, but I wasn't into her. She had a good body, but she wasn't all that pretty—just forgettable. She didn't have anything I wanted, but she kept pressing against me and touching me.” He abruptly moves forward, dropping his elbows on his knees, his face hidden in hands where I can't see it. “I tried to resist at first, but she got her hand down my pants and my body liked what she was doing. I...” He shakes his head in his hands, growling low with anger and obvious shame. “I let her get me off. When she was finished, I felt like shit. I was disgusted, and I walked away without a word. I contemplated going to one of the other counselors, but I could just imagine what my dad would say. He'd laugh at me for not enjoying my first sexual experience, and that would be the end of it.” 

He scrubs his hands over his face. “That summer, she continued to get me alone. I didn't know what to do, I'd never been in a situation like that before. I was bigger, I could have easily pushed her to the ground to get away, but I didn't want to cause trouble. I liked the camp, I just didn't like her. But then she'd do stuff to my body that felt good, and it always ended the same way. I'd resist, and she'd get me warmed up and eventually she’d get her way. She touched me, blew me, and eventually we moved on to sex. I came home from camp feeling dirty and ashamed. That summer changed me, and I never asked to go back to camp again.”

“Look at me,” I say softly. His head drops in shame for a moment, and then he reluctantly turns to look at me, resignation in his eyes. “Hey,” I say, reaching out to grasp his hand. “You were just a
boy.
You can't blame yourself, Ace.”

“I was physically stronger than her. You want to know why I didn't push her off me before things got too heated?” he asks, his eyes flashing. “I'll tell you why, because there was a sick part of me that knew how it would end, and I was looking forward to another orgasm. I should have been stronger.” His face twists with pain. “She used my body against me, got me to crave what she could do to me even though I knew it was wrong. Afterwards, I always felt so disgusted and ashamed of myself. I just...”

“She was the one that was wrong, Ace. She manipulated you.”

He looks at me with raw, bitter eyes. “I know she did. I know, Faith. But that summer haunts me in ways that you can't imagine. You don't even know the worst of it.”

I squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Tell me the worst of it, and we'll deal with it together.”

He swallows and looks down at our clasped hands. “The last night of camp, she had another female camp counselor join us,” he says in a deadened tone.

My heart constricts, and I fight back tears as I think of the boy that felt he couldn't say no. They'd used him so carelessly with no idea of the emotional damage they'd inflicted upon him. “I'm so sorry,” I whisper.

“I don't want to go into details, okay? I just...you know it all now, that's what matters.”

“Okay,” I say, keeping my tone soft.

He draws in a deep breath and exhales, the tension slowly leaving his body. “After that summer, I avoided girls for a while. I was so fucked up in the head. My self-esteem went to shit with all the guilt from everything I'd done that summer. It got to the point that if I woke up with a boner, I'd break out in a cold sweat and feel sick to my stomach. I didn't have my first and only girlfriend until I was fifteen.”

He glances at me, now more willing to meet my eyes. “I could pass as a senior with my build, so she was two years older than me. I met her through a friend that went to another school. She was pretty cool and not like the rich girls I was used to. I warmed up to her fast and began to want things that most teenagers want. I wanted to touch her and hold her. That kind of stuff. She was into sex, though. I was falling hard for her, so I hid my aversion to it. She kept talking about how she'd experienced being tied down once with an ex.”

He shakes his head. “Man, she was so young to be already messing with that kind of stuff. In the end, I trusted her enough to try it out with her, though. The idea of having her tied to her bed excited me, because I knew I'd be in full control. She wouldn't be able to use my body against me or control me with her hands tied. I liked it, a lot.” He grimaces and gives me a wry look. “We messed around with restraints most of the time, but once in my car, she tried to go down on me, and I couldn't get it up. I was so fucking embarrassed, and I thought she was going to breakup with me, but she didn't. A few days later her parents were out late, and she called me over to mess around. I got her all tied up, and I was good to go. I realized then and there that I was messed up when it comes to allowing anyone to touch me below the waist. I became fascinated with the fact that some women like being restrained, and it grew into a bit of an obsession.” He gives me an amused look. “Not at that age, though. It grew more into an obsession once I hit college. The girl that introduced me to it cheated on me after two months, and the breakup hurt me enough to keep me from messing around with anyone else until I graduated.”