Ace: His Angel (Phoenix Riders MC 1)

29: Hidden Scars

Ace POV

Anger radiated off me, my Hellhound clawing at me from the inside, but I refrained, not wanting to scare Kaitlyn. She pulled back the moment she saw my anger, afraid I directed it at her, which only angered me more.

"I'm so sorry, Ace," she whispered. I wanted to tell her not to apologize, but I bit my tongue.

Angel cried herself to sleep, curled up on the edge of the bed, and Killer moved her to his room to give her plenty of space while I worked off my anger. I spent a few hours punching the punching bag before my body ached, but I kept replaying her conversation.

"He's my ex."

Taking a deep breath, I threw one last punch at the bag and headed inside. Unwrapping my bloody and bruised hands, I knew Kaitlyn wouldn't be too happy to see them.

She deserves better than me. I walked away from her when she needed me the most because I couldn't control my anger.

I need Angel as much as she needs me. She may not be proud of her past, but I refuse to walk away from her because of it. She hides from everyone, including herself, with an ex still haunting her. There was more to her story, but her walls were high, protecting herself. It didn't help that we let him into the club, and respected him to an extent, but only as a prospect. Never as a brother.

Quickly showering in my room, I threw on sweats and my cut before finding Angel. Quietly opening the door, I found an empty bed. Where is she?!

The bathroom light was on, and I heard the water running. Opening the door, Angel sat under the running water, fully clothed. Taking off my cut, I joined her, feeling ice-cold water on my skin.

Why is she sitting in an ice-cold shower? She's always cold as is.

Blocking the water with my body, I sat down, pulling her shaking body into mine. Reaching to warm the water, a small hand stopped me, and I didn't understand why.

"Please don't," she pleaded.

Her big, beautiful green eyes were puffy from crying, and my anger came rushing back. She shouldn't punish herself; this isn't her fault, it's mine. I rubbed her arms, trying to get her blood moving and warm her up.

Everyone is right. I don't deserve her. My Hellhound will destroy her. This is my fault.

"Don't," Kaitlyn bit out. "Stop blaming yourself, and it's not your fault. This is part of the story no one likes. I am still broken and suffering from my past. A cold shower helps ground me, numbing me enough to fall asleep. Safely," she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

I understood Kaitlyn's struggle all too well. She wants to be free from her all-consuming past and feel nothing. Dying is easier than living, and she was choosing to fight, to live. Watching Angel punish herself for her past, things she wasn't responsible for, only made me want to fight for her more.

I will always fight for you, Angel. I promise.

Two minutes after watching her suffer, forcing her heart to work harder than necessary, I couldn't handle it. Turning off the shower, I wrapped her in all the towels and carried her to bed. She needed to take off her wet clothes, but I didn't want to cross a line by doing it myself. Instead, I grabbed a clean, dry shirt and boxers and laid them next to her.

I turned away to give her space, but still watched her. However, Angel sat unmoving, lost in her thoughts. Leaning down, I kissed her head and whispered, "Come back to me, Angel. I'm right here."

She slowly nodded and didn't move for a few moments.

"Can you just hold me?" she pleaded, looking at me.

"Angel, I don't want you to freeze. Once you change, I will hold you and never let you go," I said, holding her hands.

"Will you h-help me?" she asked. Her brokenness punched me harder than anyone could have.

I didn't want to touch her and make her think it was something else, but I had to try. Kneeling in front of her, I grabbed her shirt and froze, unable to touch her. Anyone else, in any other situation, I wouldn't hesitate, but this is different. Angel is different.

You're not good enough. You're going to fuck this up.

"I don't want you to think -"

Cupping my face, she rested her forehead against mine. "Please..." My heart pounded against my chest, wanting to give in, but I didn't want to fuck it up.

My heart pounded against my chest as Angel pulled away, taking off her shirt, bra, and shorts, leaving me breathless. Her scar was on display, dark prink scar tissue up top and a faded, lighter skin-tone color towards the bottom. Small scars littered her chest, deep ones, to almost invisible ones near her belly button.

Kaitlyn took my hand in hers and traced over them, having memorized them herself. Eventually, she let go, and I let my hands run over every bump and ridge on her soft skin. I didn't want to stray, but she needs to know I see all of her and still love her. Tracing over the fresh scars on her hips, she stiffened under his touch.

I see you, Angel. All of you.

Angel's tears landed on my arm, and I wiped them away. "I don't like those. They shouldn't even be on me," she sniffled.

Putting on a dry shirt, I crawled into bed and pulled her onto my chest. "They are beautiful and could never take away from who you are," I assured her, slowly rubbing her back.

Her breathing slowed, and I thought she fell asleep, but green eyes stared at me, her chin resting on my chest. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Sitting up, she straddled my lap, put on her glasses, and traced over my tattoos, sending goosebumps across my body. Her touch tempted me to do things I shouldn't.

Angel paused at a tattoo on my right inner arm: a blue flower. She silently questioned its significance. "It was my first tattoo. The flower represents love, which my mom aside to protect me evil," I answered.

She stared at it. Sadness engulfed her eyes, and she nodded, understanding there was more to my story, but I wasn't ready to share. Her hands moved again, stopping at the open space over my heart. "I'm saving that spot for my person," I stated, hoping she understood I wanted it to be her. "I have another empty spot on my shoulder."

"Can I see the spot on the back?" she whispered.

Moving, I sat on the edge of the bed. Angel's fingers traced over the empty spot. "Do you have anything planned here?"

"No," I lied. I wanted a Grim Reaper but hadn't found the time yet. But watching her eyes light up, I wanted whatever she had planned.

I may not deserve Angel, but I want to make her my old lady. Her for others, even when they hurt her, is a testament to her strength. And when she can't be strong, I will be for her.

She's mine now, and I'm never letting her go.