Chapter 2 #2

{Melanie's P.O.V}

The key turned in the lock with a heavy, metallic click that sounded way too much like a cell door shutting.

Ace pushed the front door open, stepping aside just enough for me to drag my two oversized duffel bags into the entryway.

The house was infuriatingly neat..minimalist furniture, polished hardwood, and not a single stray item out of place.

I dropped my bags onto the floor with a dull thud, the noise echoing off the high ceilings.

Ace closed the door behind us, locked it, and set his keys on the entryway table. He didn't look at me. He just stood there, tall, broad-shouldered, and entirely unbothered, as if forced cohabitation with his best friend’s sister—the girl currently burning on the altar of internet scandal—was just another Tuesday.

"Guest room is upstairs, second door on the left," he said, his voice flat, completely devoid of any warmth. "Bathroom is right across the hall. Keep your stuff in your room. Don't touch my playbook, don't leave the kitchen a mess, and keep the curtains drawn."

He turned on his heel to walk toward the kitchen, and something inside me snapped.

"That’s it?" My voice exploded into the quiet house, sharper and louder than I intended.

Ace stopped.

Slowly, he turned around, his dark eyes meeting mine with a heavy, maddening stillness. "What else do you want me to say, Mel?"

"What else do I want you to say?" A dry, bitter laugh escaped my throat as I shoved my hands through my hair, clutching the roots. My chest was heaving, the air suddenly feeling way too thin in the room. "You’ve spoken ten words to me in six months, Ace! You treat me like I’m invisible on the court, you act like I’m a disease every time I walk into the gym, and now I’m supposed to just move in with you? We’re supposed to fake-date?"

"It’s Miller’s idea. Take it up with him."

"It’s a nightmare!" I shouted, taking a step toward him, the panic I’d been suppressing all afternoon finally breaking through the dam. "My life is literally crumbling, Ace! Do you have any idea what is happening right now?"

I pulled out my phone, the screen still flashing with endless notifications, news alerts, and death threats from toxic fans. I shoved it toward his chest.

"Look at it! They think I’m a slut! They think I slept with Ken to leak our team’s plays! They’re calling for my suspension, they’re petitioning to strip my scholarship, and I can’t even open social media without seeing thousands of people telling me to die!"

My voice cracked on the last word, a harsh, jagged sound. The walls were closing in, squeezing the air right out of my lungs. My pulse was hammering in my ears like a freight train.

Ace didn't flinch. He didn't even glance down at the phone. He just stood there, staring at me, his jaw clenching slightly.

"They don't know anything," he said quietly.

"It doesn't matter what they know!" I practically screamed, tears of sheer rage and terror blinding my vision. "The story is out there! My career is over! I worked my entire life—every single morning, every late-night shootaround, every bruise, every insult about being a girl on a men's team—I gave up everything to earn my spot on that court! And in twelve hours, it’s all gone!"

I started pacing the hardwood floor, my breathing shallow and fast. Hyperventilation was creeping up on me, making my fingers go numb.

"And for what?" I choked out, wrapping my arms around my waist as if I could physically hold myself together. "For a mistake? For one horrible, disgusting night that I couldn't—"

I bit my tongue so hard I tasted copper, stopping dead in my tracks.

The room went dead silent.

Ace’s eyes narrowed, the ice in his expression suddenly shifting into something dark, sharp, and dangerously focused. He took one slow, deliberate step toward me.

"One night that you couldn't what, Mel?" his voice dropped an octave, deep and laced with a quiet, lethal edge.

Panic seized me, cold and suffocating. Ken’s face flashed in my mind—his smug, cruel smirk as he held my brother’s life in his hands.

The moment it gets out, Melanie, that’s the end of your career.

I had let Ken touch me, let him degrade me, all to keep Zayn out of a body bag. And now I was trapped in a lie, forced to pretend it was some cheap, scandalous affair instead of the nightmare it actually was.

"Nothing," I whispered, stepping back, but my heel hit the bottom stair. "It’s nothing. Just... leave me alone."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," Ace said softly. He didn't stop advancing until he was standing directly in front of me, his massive frame blocking out the warm light of the hallway.

The proximity was suffocating. I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the woodsmoke and mint on his breath. .

.

For months, he had kept his distance, treating me like toxic waste. But right now, standing this close, the tension between us was a physical force, taut and vibrating like a pulled wire.

"I don't need your pity, Ace," I spat out, squeezing my eyes shut to hide the tears spilling down my cheeks. "And I don't need you acting like you care. You hate me. You’ve hated me since the day I made this team."

"I don't hate you, Mel," he growled.

I opened my eyes, glaring up at him through blurred vision. "Then why do you look at me like you want to destroy me every time I breathe near you?"

Ace reached out, his long fingers stopping just short of brushing the damp hair from my cheek.

He didn't touch me, but the sheer intent of the gesture sent a shiver straight down my spine, setting every nerve ending on fire. His dark eyes burned into mine, ruthless and completely unreadable.

"Because having you near me is a distraction I can't afford," he said, his voice a low, rough murmur that vibrated in my chest. "And right now, you're freaking out over a crowd of spineless cowards who don't know a damn thing about who you are."

"You don't know who I am either!" I choked out, my chest heaving against the tight space between us.

"I know you're the toughest point guard in this league," Ace said, his tone leaving zero room for argument. "I know you don't break. So stop breaking right now."

"We do what Miller says," Ace whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "We play the game. We give them the show they want. And I promise you, Mel... nobody is taking your spot on that court. Not Ken, not the fans, not anyone. I won't let them."

I couldn't speak. My hands were trembling, but for the first time all day, it wasn't from fear.

Ace stepped back abruptly, the cold mask sliding right back over his features.

"Take your bags upstairs," he said smoothly, turning toward the kitchen as if he hadn't just shattered my entire world. "We have a press conference in the morning."