Ace nods. “I promise.” He mimes zipping his lips. “You can trust me.”
“I know.” I give his hand a quick squeeze. “I do.”
And that’s why, once he’s turned his attention back to preparing breakfast, I make the decision to confess to something that’s been bothering me ever since that night in Tacoma. ButI wait until Ace’s attention is on the pancakes he’s making, so I don’t have to feel his eyes on me as I say it.
Just as he’s carefully pouring the batter onto the griddle—regular pancakes this time, rather than the doomed chocolate chip ones of a year ago—I say, “I’m just so pissed at myself. With everything that happened at the fundraiser. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Ace stills for a second. His gaze jumps to mine, and then, just as quickly, returns to the pancakes. “Why?”
My heart thuds hard. “Because.” I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Two reasons, really.”
He keeps his focus on the griddle. But it’s clear he’s paying close attention. “Okay?”
“First? I should have known better.”
“What do you mean, known better?”
“Known better than to go off on an op alone. I would never have done that before. Even if I had to do it solo, my team would have been right there with me. But in Tacoma, I was so determined to do it on my own, I ignored what I was trained to do.”
“Well,” Ace replies carefully, “you did tell me. And I told my team. So you weren’t completely alone.”
“True. But I didn’t tell you everything. I could have. I could have asked you to meet me in the hallway to discuss it. We could have worked together. But, no. I got it into my head that I was going to take him down by myself.”
Ace finishes pouring the batter and sets the bowl to the side. Then he looks at me with a somber gaze. “I could lie and say you did the right thing. But I don’t think you want me to lie, do you?”
My chest squeezes. “No. Never.”
“Then I’ll say this. I think you had a good plan, except for the part where you didn’t tell me right away. But.” He frowns. Sighs. “I messed up, too. I should have?—”
“I didn’t tell you, though. I asked you to wait.”
He shakes his head. “But I had a bad feeling from the start. My gut?—”
“Ace.” I firm my voice. “What happened was in no way your fault. Not in the least.Idecided to go with that asshole by myself. Because I got it in my head that I needed to prove I could still run an op. That I was capable enough to take a predator down.”
“Why—”
“Because I wanted to feel strong again.”
“Yara.”
“It’s dumb,” I admit. “Ichosecivilian life. So I have no right to complain. But sometimes I feel like something’s missing. LikeI’mmissing something. And then… there I was. Sitting next to this guy who was going to drug me. Take advantage of me. And my adrenaline started pumping again. I had that feeling, you know?”
Ace glances at the pancakes, which are starting to brown around the edges. As he flips them, he says, “Yes. I do know.”
“So I acted. Impulsively. I’m not sorry I did, but I regret how I did it. And… I really hate how it turned out.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that. Rationally, at least. But it doesn’t change the fact that I lost control.”
“You didn’t,” he replies.
“I did. I got triggered by a stupid serving tray falling and ended up making a complete fool of myself. And I know you said it wasn’t my fault. That it’s normal. But it doesn’t feel normal. It makes me feel weak. That’s why I’ve been off ever since. Because I can’t stop thinking about how I used to be this strong, Special Forces soldier. And now I’m having panic attacks over broken dishes and running away from invisible enemies in empty parking lots. It makes me feel weak and I hate it.”
By the time I finish, my face is hot and my heart is racing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lay all that on you. Forget I said anything.”
The silence that follows feels eternal.
