Page 14 of Dance Practice, Marooned: Part 2

I don’t argue, because I am suddenly so fucking tired I’d take a nap on a pile of rocks if I had to.

But then someone else appears at the edge of the trees. It’s Ace. He walks in like he always does, as if he has just come back from war. His shoulders are always stiff, ready, like he is waiting for the next threat to appear. He pauses, glances around at the camps, then his eyes settle on me and his head tips slightly. I look away.

Mostly because staring at him has heat rising in my body over memories of our last encounter.

Aggie leans in, voice low. “Noticed anything weird about him lately?”

I turn to her. “What do you mean, weird?”

She shrugs. “He disappears. Like, for hours. Sometimes almost a whole day.”

I try to remember if I’ve noticed, but I haven’t. Probably because I have been avoiding him at every cost since he fucked me against that tree. If I see him, I walk in the opposite direction. Mostly because every single time his eyes meet mine, it fucking burns a hole right into my heart and I can’t take it. I don’t want to look at him, because if I do, he might just see how much being away from him hurts.

How much I want to forgive him, but don’t.

Because my pride, my need to survive, it’s all too strong.

“He seems like the kind who can’t sit still,” Aggie goes on. “He is probably planning an escape.”

I hope so.

Before I can answer, he turns and walks in our direction. Aggie shrinks away, as if she was never beside me, and I could scream. She always does that, disappears so I have no choice but to speak to him alone.

“Grace.” He says my name like he’s testing it out for the first time.

I look up at him, and for a half-second, I remember the feeling of his arms around me that night. I remember his heartbeat against my cheek, the warmth of him, and the way it almost made the world make sense for two blinks of an eye. I remember his cock driving in and out of me, the frustration and anger we both shared.

But then I also remember the facts: what he did, what he would have done, given the chance. How nothing will ever be the same between us, maybe ever.

His face flickers, seeing something on mine I didn’t mean to show. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“If it looks like more, maybe that’s a you problem.”

My voice comes out snappier than I intended, but I just want to lay down and sleep. I don’t want everyone fussing over me. He leans in, and for a moment, he is so close I can smell the salt and smoke on his skin.

“You sick?” he asks. He doesn’t say it softly, but he says it with a concern so raw it doesn’t need volume.

“I’m fine.”

“She’s not,” Tatiana calls and I throw a scowl in her direction.

“I am,” I say again, before he can answer.

He leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re not well, Grace. Let us help before it gets worse. You matter to us and we need you.”

The words land with more weight than I want to let them, so I just shrug like I don’t care.

But he’s relentless. “I’ll make you some electrolytes, and we have some Tylenol left.”

“I’m not taking that,” I say, shaking my head. “No. Someone might need that more than me. I’m fine, I just need to rest.”

His face hardens. “I’m not listenin’ to your bullshit. I’m getting it. Sit.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me no room to argue.