I didn't stop running until I reached the edge of Hollow Creek Trail.
Rain had started again, light but constant — like the sky couldn't stop crying either.
I sat on the curb, soaked and shaking.
Because if what Jaxon said was true…
Then Ace wasn't just hiding things.
He was rewriting them.
And I was the idiot who believed the first draft.
---
I didn't answer Ace's calls.
Didn't read the texts.
Didn't check the note he left in my locker the next day — but yeah, I kept it anyway.
Pathetic, right?
Melanie was the one who finally snapped me out of it.
"Okay, no. You don't get to spiral alone," she said, dragging me into her room and tossing me a hoodie and a cinnamon bun.
"I don't want to talk."
"Tough."
I glared. "He lied, Mel."
"Or maybe he didn't. Maybe you're just scared of what the truth means."
"What if Jaxon was telling the truth?"
Mel crossed her arms. "Then Ace should've told you. But if you really think he's a monster, then stop crying over him."
I looked down.
Exactly.
I couldn't stop.
---
That night, I opened the note he left.
'You don't owe me anything. But if you want to hear the truth — meet me at the old basketball court. Saturday. 6 PM. No lies. Just me.'
I read it once.
Then again.
And again.
Until the words felt like a bruise against my ribs.
---
I almost didn't go.
But I did.
Because I needed to know.
Because somewhere deep down, past the betrayal and the ache —
I stillcared.
---
The court was empty. Sunset bleeding across the sky like a wound.
Ace sat on the bleachers, head down, hoodie up.
I stopped a few feet away.
"You said no lies," I said.
He looked up. Eyes hollow. Honest.
And afraid.
"I didn't set him up," he said. "But I didn't stop him either."
I stayed silent.
"I caught him stealing from my mom. I begged him to stop. I offered him my own money, Hope. I tried. But he wouldn't. He said I was soft. That I didn't understand loyalty."
Ace's voice cracked.
"I threatened to tell my dad. And that night… Jaxon broke in. Said he'd teach me a lesson. Said I made him choose the hard way."
He looked down at his hands.
"I didn't call the cops. My mom did. She didn't know it was him at first. She thought it was just some thief. I… didn't correct her. I froze. I let her press charges."
My chest tightened.
"You let your brother go to jail."
"He wasn't my brother anymore," Ace said quietly. "He was someone who hurt us. Who looked me in the eyes and said I deserved it."
Tears clung to his lashes.
"I've hated myself every day since. Not for what happened — but because I keep wondering if I could've stopped it."
I sat down beside him. Slowly.
"You were a kid," I whispered.
"No. I was old enough to know better. Old enough to stand up and say something."
"But scared enough not to. And that doesn't make you weak, Ace."
He looked at me, broken and soft all at once.
"I don't want you to think I'm like him."
"I never did," I said. "I just needed you to trust me enough to tellme."
We sat there in the half-dark.
No noise but the breeze and our breathing.
"Do you still hate me?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I hate that you had to carry this alone."
And for the first time since everything fell apart, he let me hold him.
---
Later, as we stood up to leave, Ace pulled something from his pocket.
It was a sketch — of me, again.
This time, not smiling.
But strong.
"You make me want to stop running," he said.
I took the drawing. Pressed it to my chest.
Then looked at him and said,
"Then stop."
---