Broken Bonds (Unbreakable Bonds #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

chapter twenty-one

CELINE

“We should’ve walked,” I griped as the truck went over yet another pothole, jostling everyone. I swallowed back a shout of agony. Why did this have to hurt so fucking much? There wasn’t anyone else on the roads. Couldn’t the damn driver avoid them?

“You mean, I should’ve walked because you can’t.” Irritation laced Ace’s voice. I knew he was tired and ready to get out of this truck just like I was, but he didn’t have to be a dick.

We were on the bed of an old pickup truck that belonged to one of the rescue workers, surrounded by victims of the storm. Everyone was tired, scared, and grumpy. It wasn’t just us. But God , I could barely think past the pain in my legs.

“You don’t have to be an asshole twenty-four-seven, you know?” I snapped.

Ace rolled his head over to look at me, arching a brow. “What fun would that be, princess?” First, we had an argument about sitting in the bed of the truck, and now, I was really wishing we had walked because the truck was jostling my legs to the point it was almost unbearable. We hit another rough bump, and I squeezed my eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath.

“You’re so rude. I told you I didn’t want to come in this truck.”

“And I couldn’t carry you and your thunder thighs all the way to your house,” he snapped. My gasp was carried away by the wind as I glared at him, the urge to punch his pretty face strong .

“Would you two shut up?” a man grumbled from the corner of the back of the pickup, closest to the back window of the cab.

I shot him a glare, making him cast his eyes away from me, before I turned back to Ace, who was failing at hiding his amusement. “I don’t have thunder thighs,” I snapped. Wind whipped my hair all over my face with small, sharp stings as pain blossomed in my chest at Ace’s words.

He sighed. “It’s not the end of the world, princess. Some guys like it.”

Was he one of those guys? Why did I even care? I shouldn’t care.

“You’re a pig,” I sneered.

“I’m one of those guys, princess.” He shot me a smirk. My heart skipped a beat in my chest, and I felt like I’d swallowed my tongue. “I like your thunder thighs—something for me to hold onto when I kiss you.”

Oh, Jesus, please help me.

My heart was going to beat right out of my chest. Did he want to kiss me?

The truck lurched to a stop, throwing me forward a few inches. My hands shot out to brace my fall, and Ace’s hand gripped my upper arm, keeping me in place.

I looked up, and the insults I was going to throw at Ace dried on my tongue. The beach house—rather, the remains of it—filled my gaze.

No.

A cry tore from my throat at the sight of the destroyed house and the memories that had been washed away. Aidan. Oh, Aidan.

Upturned trees covered the driveway. Someone’s bike lay in the long, gravel road to the house, and the swinging bench Aidan and I used to sit on every Friday evening was laying in pieces in the middle of the front yard.

Puddles of water were everywhere, and I knew the inside would be even worse. Ace hopped off the back of the truck, his gaze on mine, his arms reaching for me. I shook my head, tears blurring my vision.

“No,” I croaked. This wasn’t happening. This could not be happening. Was every good memory of Aidan going to be tainted until I had nothing good of him left?

“Come on; we can’t keep these people waiting. They want to get home, too.” I glanced at the tired people around me, their dirt-covered faces wearing expressions of panic, fear, and sadness—so much sadness—etched into all of their eyes as they stared at the beach house.

Ace helped me down, his arms tight around my weak body. He thanked the driver, who nodded and sped off, the groan of the engine disappearing around the bend.

I stared at the house where so many memories were made. Memories now wrecked. Destroyed.

Ace took one step and then another, his footsteps sloshing each time his boot hit the wet ground. He avoided big branches and other debris along the path to the front door like a maze. And with every step closer, my chest tightened more and more.

The front door wasn’t hanging right. The bottom hinges were broken off. Ace used his foot to nudge it open, and water came rushing out, soaking his feet. We both muttered expletives as we stared at the mess in front of us. My heart screamed in agony.

Everything was ruined .

“I want to go home,” I whispered, tears flowing down my cheeks.

“Let’s just check?—”

I interrupted him. “Take me home, Ace. Just take me home.” My dad could deal with this. I couldn’t. Not today. Not anytime soon. Panic clawed up my throat at the sight of my safe place, the place where Aidan and I didn’t fight. Destroyed.

“Okay,” Ace said softly, sensing my panic. “I have to figure out a way to change the flat on the Jeep first.”

I shook my head. “We don’t have tools.”

He nodded. “I know. I have to make a plan.”

We went straight into the garage after he fought open the now bent door, finally throwing it open, almost dropping me in the process. Inside the garage, there wasn’t a lot of water or damage, so we both released a breath of relief. I wasn’t sure if I could sit in here, in the midst of destruction and chaos if it’d been ruined, too.

Ace set me down on a deck chair while he looked around the garage for the tools he needed. He found a jack in the back corner of the garage and then hunted through the few cabinets, looking for a tire iron.

“There has to be one here—just one,” he muttered.

“We’re going to be stuck here, aren’t we?” I had the desolation in my voice. But I wanted to leave. I didn’t want to be here.

Ace looked up from the cabinet, his blue eyes glowing with determination. “No. I’m taking you home, Celine. I’m going to fix this and take you home just like you asked me to.”

Ten minutes passed, and still, he didn’t find what he needed. “Ace, there’s nothing here.” He rummaged around some more, still not giving up. I sighed and closed my eyes.

“Found something!” I tried to stop the excitement thrumming through my body. “I’m going to fix this, baby girl.” His southern accent intensified around the term of endearment, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest, my throat thick with so much adoration for the asshole in front of me, I could barely contain it.

Why did he have to be so damn perfectly imperfect?

It took him nearly an hour to fix the flat with a lot of grunts and groans filling the sticky air as he did so. But finally, he tossed the jack and the tire iron into the back of the jeep, turning to me with a broad smile that stole the breath right from my lungs.

“Let’s get you home, princess.” He finally stood up from the ground, the muscles in his back and shoulders flexing. He looked at me, pride in his blue eyes, a streak of black grease on his left cheek under his eye, hands dirty, clothes wet, and ultimately, very sexy. Seriously, he couldn’t have looked any better if he tried.

He lifted me effortlessly from the chair I’d been sitting in, despite the teasing about my thunder thighs, and put me down on the plush, leather passenger seat of the Wrangler. He threw our black backpack into the back and then swung himself into the driver’s seat. He slammed the door shut, his right hand turning the ignition on.

The Jeep rumbled to life, cold air blasting through the A/C onto our sticky faces. He reversed out slowly, the big tires creaking with each twig they snapped. Once we were clear of the mangled garage door, he threw the Jeep into park and hopped out, running in to close it back the best he could. Then, he slid back into the driver’s seat, snapped his seatbelt on, and guided the car down the long driveway.

“What about your bike?” I asked, seeing its red metal gleaming beneath the still partially open garage door. His bike was fine, tucked away in a corner, safe from the water and harm.

I was waiting for him to leave me for the bike.

I was waiting for him to be like Aidan.

“It can wait a few more days,” he said, his eyes focused on the road.

“But I thought?—”

He shook his head. “You’re more important than a bike, Celine.”

My heart was going to float out of my chest. “Ace, I just?—”

His nostrils flared. “I’m not him .” His hands tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

I kept my mouth shut, half afraid I’d start confessing how much I liked him if I opened my mouth.

Ace wasn’t Aidan, and he continued to prove it over and over. And now… well, now, I was starting to believe it.