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Honey reached for her glasses as she shoved the documents that had been spread out over her desk all afternoon back into their folder. They were simply mocking her at this point. The base of her nose was sore from the elegant frame that had assisted her hazel eyes all throughout the day. As soon as she folded them in her lap, her handwriting on the label went blurry and Honey heaved a sigh, straining from giving her sore temples a massage. The brunette on the picture she hadn't put back yet stared up at her in typical, teenage rage. She loved her job. She truly did. Honey had worked very hard this past year to not only overcome her traumas, but a social worker too: someone who could mean something for the poor souls in the harsh society they lived in. And she fought everyday to make it a better place—but days like these took their sweet toll on her. She’d spent the past week mauling over a new case. A young, homeless girl who’d recently turned eighteen and had been kicked out on the streets. Foster care had done a number on her, but a kid with a history like hers tended to simply disappear within the holes of their civilization. Honey knew all too well where a pretty, little thang like her would most likely wind up. Nowhere good. Her red lips pressed into a harsh line as they closed around one leg of her glasses, nibbling on the rubber side as she reminisced what future loomed over this girl's head. It was a habit she'd picked up in a way some people bit their nails when they were lost in thought, or concentrating very hard. Ace found it adorable. He was also the one who had insisted she got her eyes tested after he realized she could barely read the newspaper without squinting her eyes and complained of inexplainable headaches. After her initial reluctance, Ace won and she found out she needed them more than she’d thought. Lenses were her more favorable option, because she felt quite ridiculous with the glasses at first, but she slowly came to like the sophisticated look the black frame gave her. It certainly helped that Ace would absolutely ravish her. Especially if she wore only the glasses. Honey leaned back and took another deep breath, tapping her nails against the bulging file beneath her hand. The brunette's name was Amelia Mossier and she’d spent the greater part of her life going in and out of terrible foster homes. She’d been transferred over only because the girl had spent the last six months in juvy. What didn’t make things better, was the fact that she hated the system with a passion and did everything in her power to make that known. Honey couldn’t blame her. A heck of a lot was wrong and unfair with their system—but she tried her best. Quite a few of them did. Her husband was one of them. Being a corrupt prick was only part of his job. He was a good cop. A good man. She only realized her sour expression had turned into a smile when someone knocked against the door to her office. The glasses slipped from her mouth as she said: ‘Come in.’ Honey shoved the accessory into a drawer and caught herself peeking at the framed pictures decorating her small desk. She'd pushed them aside earlier to make room for the entirety of Amelia's documentations. The white frames contained frozen images of her weddingday and Emma’s first birthday. The little girl had her parents on either side. It was a sunny Saturday and Honey didn’t look at the camera, which was an exceptional thing, because she was trying to keep her silver—eyed demon from smearing chocolate cake all over her tiny feet. Ace held both of them, clearly laughing at his wife in a carefree and joyous way she only saw him when he was around family and close friends. Honey loved that precious picture. Emma and him shared the same smile. Only a second later Ace opened the door. He’d come straight from the precinct, she could tell, if only by the jacket he wore. His smell brushed her cheek before he flashed one of his rare smiles at her, and she’d already been grinning by then. ‘Hey,’ he said. His voice set goosebumps down her arms and made her perch up. She couldn’t imagine the day that sound wouldn’t make her stomach flutter. ‘Hey there, handsome,’ she answered, propping her chin on the back of her hands. Ace closed the door before he strode over, walking around the desk and stopping right behind her to glance over her shoulder. ‘You’re late.’ The tone was matter—of—factly, and Honey’s eyes dropped to the clock on her laptop before she slowly blinked. He was right. She'd been sitting here for a lot longer than she'd noticed. ‘I forgot the time,’ she admitted, attempting to turn around, but finding that Ace had his foot against the leg of her chair. His mouth was very close to her ear, he’d leaned forward, and any trace of exhaustion evaporated from her body completely. ‘That teenager?’ Real interest. She nodded, nestling back to feel his warmth as he pulled the folder to the edge of the desk. He probably skimmed over the general information, and she watched his hands as he flipped through the pages in a professional manner that revealed he was used to evaluating loads of paperwork. The silver band of his weddingring glinted softy under the UV—lights and she gave in to the urge to curl her fingers around them. ‘She’s just so hurt and angry and... lonely. Amelia won’t let me help her and I know that she’s a real pain in the ass with a filthy goddamn mouth, but—‘ she sighed again, releasing the tension through her mouth, just the way he’d taught her once. Honey could get very heated over frustrating things. He waited for her to finish that sentence, but she shook her head. ‘But she reminds you of yourself,’ he offered, and when she hummed, Ace kissed the side of her head. ‘She’s lucky to have you in her corner, Hon.’ ‘Yeah, well, I hope she’ll come to the same realization before she screws up beyond my reach.’ One more strike and Amelia would face a prison sentence. A real one, not juvenile detention. Walking the streets, public intoxication, vandalism, shoplifting... choose your pick. Her record was thicker than the yellow pages for God's sake. ‘Hmm, want me to have a talk with miss Mossier?’ Ace said, loosening her grip so he could squeeze on the tension in her shoulders in a way that made her purr in appreciation. He devoured that noise and became more determined to hear it again. ‘I can only help her if she wants to help herself,’ Honey decided, stretching back her arms to grab hold of his blouse. Ace nipped at her ear when he caught onto what she had in mind and his wife giggled in retribution. ‘That's some very wise knowledge, mrs Brennan,’ he said. And he wholly accepted the nudge she gave him in return. ‘A notorious snob gave it to me a long time ago.’ Honey braced, but could only feel his breaths tickling past her jaw as he slowly lowered himself. ‘A snob, huh?’ She bit her lip and subconsciously clenched her thighs, which Ace noticed because she could feel the smirk against her neck as he nuzzled the tender flesh. ‘He was charming and very powerful too,’ she continued, feeling his hands slipping down the sides of her breasts. She damned herself now for choosing her favorite ruffled dress this morning. Honey would be waving a white flag soon and mr. Detective knew as much. ‘And did he?’ Ace asked, as he twirled the chair around at last. Her cheeks were rosy red and her eyes sparked with confusion as they crossed glances. He looked every bit the predator he'd once been behind that black, feline mask. ‘Did he what?’ she repeated, her Southern lilt stretching the syllables in a way he'd come to love. ‘Did he help her?’ Ace gazed down, his grey eyes lined with a deeper emotion, and her expression softened as she gently cupped the sides of his head in her hands. ‘You didn't help me. You saved my life, Ace Brennan.’ |
[ bericht aangepast op 26 sep 2020 - 14:38 ]
Feel the fire, but do not succumb to it.