Mafia's Second Chance Love

Chapter 6: Bridge

Leaving Ethan's apartment, I felt the weight of the past pressing upon my chest like an old, cherished book I could never let go of. Seeing Ace on the screen brought back memories I tried to lock away.

I returned to my own small space, my apartment, where the present was just a fleeting visitor in a museum of memories. With a steaming cup of tea in hand, I settled into my favorite dark green armchair, gazing out at the world beyond the window. It was one of those rare moments when the past tugged at the edges of my consciousness, demanding to be remembered.

Sometimes, the past had a way of asserting itself, demanding to be revisited.

As the raindrops painted a melancholic picture on the window, I let my thoughts drift back to a place I once called home. It was a town where laughter and the secrets of youth once filled the air. Though it now seemed a world away, the memories were as vivid as if they had happened only yesterday.

My mother never really had a place she could truly call home. In the U.S., we moved around frequently, as my mother would whisk me away in the middle of the night to escape my father's drunken and violent outbursts. Back then, as a child, I couldn't comprehend the turmoil that unfolded in our household. I remember my mother explaining that this was how adults expressed love and I remember that day deciding that I never wanted to be loved. The first time my father turned his anger on me, I was around ten. It marked the beginning of a painful chapter in my life.

He was a man consumed by rage, though it took me years to fully comprehend the reasons why, as I learned more about the world during my time at university.

The turning point arrived one fateful night. My father, in a drunken fit, began assaulting me while I sat at the dinner table, blood staining my mouth. Witnessing the brutality, my mother made a desperate decision to escape. During a brief stay at a motel, she tried to convince me that this was our new home. But she heard my father's pleas, and we returned to the place of our torment.

Stranded without money, job, or a support system, my mother fell back into the cycle of violence, and, tragically, I became entangled in it as well.

Two years had passed since that fateful night, and my mother and I were caught in a relentless cycle. Each month, she would spirit me away in the middle of the night, seeking refuge in whatever temporary home she could find. But invariably, we would return to my father's grasp, and the cycle of abuse would continue.

Our circumstances finally took a turn when my grandmother passed away. My mother had maintained a connection with her own mother back in England, despite the miles that separated them. A lawyer visited our home in secret, aware of the danger my father posed. He revealed that my grandmother had left us her house in England, a beacon of hope in a life filled with darkness.

My mother's eyes sparkled with newfound optimism, and, five months later, we embarked on a life-altering journey. We fled from my father, escaping to England and leaving behind the horrors of our past. It was a fresh start, and though the house was old, its warmth provided a stark contrast to the turmoil we had left behind. It's ironic how one's death gave someone's else's a new life.

I was sixteen when we landed in England. The school, my part-time job at the small city library, and my mother's employment at the local convenience store—we were building our lives from the ground up. The transition was not without its challenges.

It was different than life in the US and much stranger. At school nobody would talk to me. They made fun of my accent as if theirs wasn't funny to me. Only when I grew up did I understand that teenagers are the worst judges of things.

And then... He came. Like an unexpected storm in a serene night. Ace Sullivan. The son of the wealthiest man in town.

In school, he chose the back of the classroom for his sanctuary, while I gravitated toward a seat by the window. It didn't take long for me to feel his intense gaze upon me, like a heat I couldn't ignore. I attributed it to being the new kid in town, not considering that there might be more to it.

Ace Sullivan had an air of mystique around him, the kind of charisma that drew everyone in. His raven-black hair tumbled in charming disarray, contrasting starkly with his pale complexion. His hazel eyes held secrets I was both curious to explore and wary of uncovering, shimmering with an unspoken depth. He exuded confidence and a hint of rebellion, as if he had already figured out the world's intricacies that still eluded the rest of us.

He was tall and lean, with an elegant yet unassuming posture. His presence was a force that simultaneously attracted and intimidated, drawing the attention of teachers and students alike. Ace's attire was always a reflection of his unique style, a blend of vintage pieces and modern elements that only enhanced his air of mystery.

Despite his charisma, or perhaps because of it, Ace chose to remain an enigma, rarely mingling with his peers. He was often seen engrossed in a novel, his long fingers deftly turning the pages, or occasionally sketching in a tattered notebook, his thoughts hidden away from prying eyes.

I soon discovered that his aloof demeanor was not reserved for me alone. He kept his distance from the other students, making him somewhat of a loner. Yet, there was no denying the effect he had on our small community. Whispers about the wealthy Sullivan family and their troubled past only added to Ace's mystique, cementing his reputation as an intriguing and untouchable figure in our high school.

For the most part, I tried to ignore the sensations that his presence stirred in me. His frequent glances my way were perplexing, but I was determined not to be distracted by the enigmatic boy who had appeared in my life like an uninvited riddle. Little did I know that our paths were destined to cross in ways I couldn't imagine.

I remember the first time we talked. The library was about to close, and James, my usual bully, and his friends were causing a ruckus. They had refused to leave, shouting insults at me while I tried to maintain order. I was on the verge of tears, the embarrassment and frustration boiling within me.

Just when it seemed like I was in a hopeless situation, the enigmatic figure of our town, Ace Sullivan, appeared behind the shelves with a book in hand. I thought he left an hour ago. His presence was commanding and his expression was frigid. Everyone fell into a stunned silence, knowing that Ace was not someone to be trifled with.

Ace stood tall, his eyes cold and authoritative, as he addressed the troublemakers. "The library is closing. You need to leave."

James, reluctantly backing down, retorted, "Who are you to tell us what to do, Ace?"

Ace's response was sharp and unyielding. "Wanna find out? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes." he said, and closed the book he was holding with a loud bang.

As they retreated, grumbling and casting resentful glances at Ace, I was left in stunned amazement. This wasn't just Ace coming to my rescue; it was a monumental event in its own right. It was the first time anyone had seen Ace take action like this.

Ace turned to me, his frosty eyes holding a trace of concern, and he inquired, "Are you all right?"

I managed a weak nod, still bewildered by the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. It wasn't just that he'd rescued me from a familiar torment; it was the fact that Ace had chosen that precise moment to intervene, making the whole thing even more mysterious.

I mustered a quiet "thank you" and watched him retreat, leaving me with a sense of gratitude and a burning curiosity that would linger long after the incident had faded into the chronicles of our high school days.

The rumors and whispers of Ace's unusual act continued to ripple through our town, a spectacle of awe and intrigue. Everyone knew Ace, and this abrupt display of his uncharacteristic intervention left us all in a state of shock. But for me, it was more than just a spectacle. It was a stark reminder that beneath Ace's icy facade, there was a complex individual with layers I was determined to unravel.

As the weeks passed, Ace's presence in my life became a constant, and I couldn't deny the fascination that grew within me. I was no longer the new kid, the outsider who felt alien in a town that never fully accepted me. Ace, the enigmatic figure I had once regarded from a distance, was now beside me, engaging in conversation and sharing a part of his world.

In class, Ace would sit beside me, making casual small talk that felt surreal. The subjects varied from the mundane details of our school assignments to more personal topics like our favorite books and music. We laughed and exchanged stories, and I couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in Ace's demeanor.

At the library where I worked, he became a constant visitor. No longer content with merely reading in solitude, Ace would wait until closing time, and we would walk together through the dimly lit streets of our town. These post-closing conversations became an anticipated routine, allowing us to delve into deeper, more meaningful discussions.

I discovered that Ace's frosty exterior hid a mind that was brilliant and analytical. He had a curiosity for the world that matched my own, and I marveled at the way he analyzed literature, history, and life itself. These conversations were more than just distractions from our everyday lives; they were like stepping into a hidden realm where secrets and complexities awaited discovery.

Our friendship was unconventional, and I couldn't help but wonder what drew Ace to me. What had sparked his interest, prompting him to bridge the gap that usually existed between a local girl and a wealthy heir like him? I knew I had to tread carefully, not wanting to push too far, too fast, but the allure of Ace's mysteries was hard to resist.

As we spent more time together, I couldn't help but feel the whispering of our pasts intertwined with our present. My life before England, the traumatic experiences I had buried deep within me, and Ace's enigmatic persona collided in the quiet moments we shared.

The connection between us was undeniable, and I couldn't ignore the magnetic pull that drew me closer to the complexities of Ace Sullivan.