Waiting.
For doubt.
For hesitation.
For the moment his expression shifted into pity or suspicion or regret.
It never came.
And somehow that terrified me almost as much as it comforted me.
“You trusted me over all of that?” I asked softly.
“I trusted my gut.”
“And?”
A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth.
“My gut likes you.”
I huffed out the smallest laugh.
It surprised both of us.
Ace’s expression softened slightly at the sound.
“You don’t even know me,” I murmured.
“I know you carried something that never belonged to you.” His eyes locked on mine. “And I know you did it because you loved somebody.”
My throat burned.
No one had ever called it love before.
Only stupidity.
Weakness.
Guilt.
I looked down at the phone again.
At the frozen truth sitting in my lap.
“I don’t know how to be this person,” I admitted quietly. “The one who gets to say she’s innocent.”
Ace stayed quiet for a second.
Then—
“You don’t have to become somebody new, Tessa.” His voice lowered. “You just get to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do.”
The words settled deep.
Painfully deep.
Because part of me wanted to believe them.