Ace's Wilder

Wrecked

Jase knew he shouldn't have been surprised to find her there, halfway up the metal bleachers, staring out at the empty, yet pristine green grass of the baseball diamond across the parking lot from Sawyer County High School. She was still mostly in her funeral clothes—black jacket lying in a heap off to the side, towering heels kicked off at the bottom of the steps, but she was lounging back on her elbows, in a dark gray cotton tanktop and black tailored pants, looking like she was part of a photoshoot instead of a one-woman silent vigil.

He'd seen her at the church, where she'd spent a lot of time with Coach Maddox's wife, talking and hugging. He'd seen her wipe away a few tears, and wanted to run to her—scoop her into his arms and make them stop—but he wasn't sure how he'd be received, so he'd stayed away. She'd offered him only a small smile from across the aisle during the service; one he'd quickly returned before she looked away again, missing the million things he wanted to telepathically tell her.

He wasn't sure she'd be in town for this. He'd actually doubted it. If he had been in her shoes, he'd have never wanted to see another funeral for as long as he lived. But, he knew her well enough to know that if she thought someone needed her, she could compartmentalize whatever she was feeling long enough to show up. That's what she did. Ace Love showed up for the people she loved the most.

Jase, rather, used the people he loved the most as emotional punching bags. He had a lot of regrets about that, of course. None so extensive than the ones he had related to her. She was probably both the result of and the reason for it all.

If she saw him in her periphery, she didn't give any indication. The sun was bright and warm – a cruel contrast to the feelings of the day – and she kept her eyes, behind dark Ray-Bans, turned out toward the field.

Jase stopped at the bottom of the stands and craned his neck to look up at her. "Permission to come aboard?"

Ace's face settled into a slow, easy smile, although it didn't reach her eyes. "Permission granted. Shoes off though. It's an informal affair."

Jase nodded, making his way up the platform before sitting down on the bottom row to remove his shoes and dress socks, before tugging off his jacket and loosening his tie. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and made his way up toward Ace.

"Hi," he sighed, sitting down a comfortable distance away from her.

She laughed a little to herself—more out of irony, or apathy, than humor, he suspected, but she responded, either way. "Funny meeting you here."

He offered her his own sad smile. "Yeah, I guess I should have known. It was always your place, first, really."

At some point, back in high school, Ace had revealed to him that she liked to come here. This vantage point – several feet above and behind the backstop – was her favorite for a lot of reasons, and she'd been coming here since she was old enough to drive. Every time Ace needed to really think about something, she'd come here and just...sit. He wondered if she ever did that at Camden Yards.

He wondered if he had the right to ask.

She shook her head. "It was always yours. I think I just came here back then to feel a little closer to your world, maybe. Old habits die hard, I guess."

He could feel his cheeks flush, and his heart crack. "It's good to see you, kid."

And it was.

"I've been thinking about you a lot," he admitted after she didn't respond.

The sun had sunk below the treeline behind them. Ace took her sunglasses off and set them to the side. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired. Their turquoise color looked even brighter in contrast. She'd been crying.