Pumped (Mars Fitness #3)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER

EIGHT

OWEN

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay an extra few days?” Mom asks as Dad loads up their car.

“I’m sure, Mom,” I lie. In fact, I’m not sure at all. I want them to stay. I want Everest’s parents to stay. I want them all to stay and be the buffer between me and Everest.

She studies me for a moment and I put on a brave face. I’m an adult. I own my own apartment. I have a successful career as a veterinary surgeon. I don’t need my mom to hold my hand through this, even though I secretly really want her to.

She’s caught me with tears in my eyes a few times this week already. We were never a boys-don’t-cry type of family, but I’ve never been very comfortable expressing my emotions. They get too big, too unwieldy. Then people look at you differently, like you’re suddenly not the person they thought you were.

“I go back to work tomorrow. Ivy goes back to school,” I continue when Mom still looks skeptical. “The sooner we can establish a normal routine, the better.”

She sighs then pulls me into a hug. “If you’re sure.”

I hug her back, a little embarrassed at how tightly I’m holding on. I have to stop myself from taking back everything I said and begging her to stay.

“Remember we’re just a phone call away. It’ll only take us a couple hours to get here. If you need a few days off, we’re happy to come down. Or Ivy can come stay with us. Whatever you need, okay?”

“Thanks, Mom.” My voice is a little thick with emotion and I force myself to swallow it all down. I’ve been so good at keeping my composure this week. I can’t afford to break down now when Ivy needs me to stay strong.

A few feet away, Everest and Ivy are saying goodbye to his parents. He’s holding her and she’s got her arms around his neck, clinging to him like she’s never going to let go.

She looks miserable. And scared.

I know the feeling.

Not for the first time, I question the wisdom of what we’re doing. Everest and I are completely unequipped for a task like this. We’re not parents. We don’t know the first thing about raising a child. I’ve loaded up my Kindle with every parenting book ever published, but I’m still terrified I’m going to fuck her up.

I don’t trust myself to be a good parent. I trust Everest even less.

Nell leans in to give Ivy a kiss, then gives Everest one too. Graham rubs Ivy’s back and claps Everest on the shoulder. We switch parents.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done this week,” Nell says, pulling me into a tight hug. “I know we don’t live as close as your parents do. But you can always call on us if you need any help, okay? Even if it’s just to vent about…” She casts a sideways glance at her son to finish the rest of her sentence.

I let out a strangled chuckle. “Uh, sure, thanks.” It’s comforting and alarming to know that even Everest’s mom questions his capabilities.

“We’ve spoken to your parents about going to their place for a long weekend sometime,” she continues. “It’ll be good for us to all get together.”

I nod. “That sounds nice.”

Dad comes back from loading up the car and we all say our final goodbyes. Then Everest, Ivy, and I stand in the doorway as both sets of grandparents drive off. I have a feeling all three of us want to run down the stoop and stop them.

When the cars finally disappear around the corner, we step back and I close the front door.

The house suddenly feels so big and empty. Time stretches out in front of us, vacant and needing to be filled. The three of us stare at each other, none of us quite certain what we’re supposed to do now.

“Hey,” Everest says, after several long moments of silence. He gives Ivy a tickle. “How about a movie night with popcorn and ice cream?”

I frown. “Tonight is a school night. Staying up watching movies and eating junk food isn’t a good idea. She should have a proper dinner and get an early night. It’ll be her first day back at school tomorrow.”

Ivy shrinks, clinging even more tightly to Everest. “I don’t wanna go to school,” she whines.

Shit. I didn’t mean to sound so strict. Softening my voice, I try again. “Ivy, sweetie, you’ve already missed a whole week of school. You need to catch up or you’ll fall too far behind. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She whines even louder and I brace myself. The sound is a precursor to the crying temper tantrums she’s been having all week. Her face gets all scrunched up and she throws her limbs around. It doesn’t stop until she’s tired herself out.

It hurts my heart to see her like this, overwhelmed with emotions but without the skills she needs to regulate them. I can’t imagine how frustrating it is, how helpless she must feel. A part of me wants to coddle her and tell her she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.

But according to the books I’ve been reading, that’s not going to serve Ivy in the long term. I can’t just be a friend who does whatever she wants. I need to establish myself as a parental figure and putting it off isn’t going to do anyone any good.

“Ivy,” I say, trying to find that precarious balance of gentle but firm. My stomach churns uncomfortably as I speak. “Crying isn’t going to get you out of school tomorrow.”

“But I don’t wanna!” She turns away from me and buries her face into Everest’s neck.

He glowers at me while rubbing circles on her back. “It’s okay, Ivy-bear. It’s okay. You don’t have to go to school tomorrow if you don’t want to.”

I bite back a curse. What the fuck? I mouth silently at him, shaking my head and throwing my hands into the air. Did he seriously just undermine me, not five minutes into this doomed co-parenting arrangement? We’re supposed to be a united front. We’re supposed to set boundaries for Ivy and then keep them. She needs to learn that there are rules and there are consequences if she breaks them.

Instead, Everest has the audacity to smirk at me and give me the middle finger—the irresponsible bastard. I’m still sputtering, trying to process just how juvenile he is, when he carries Ivy off, cooing at her the whole time.

They go upstairs and I hear Everest suggest they play with her dolls, leaving me standing in the foyer, completely fucking gobsmacked. In one fell swoop, Everest has just made me the bad cop. What the hell?

A part of me wants to march up those stairs and give him a piece of my fucking mind. Ivy is going to school tomorrow and that’s the end of the discussion. He doesn’t get to have an opinion, especially not if he’s going to act like a six-year-old himself.

But I stop myself. What good will it do to confront Everest like that? To get into an argument that will undoubtedly turn into a shouting match. And right in front of Ivy. What kind of example would that set for her? Definitely not a good one.

No, I’ll have to find some other time to sit Everest down and impart to him exactly how this parenting thing works. If he can’t make responsible decisions, then he doesn’t get to make any decisions at all.

I stalk to the kitchen and wrench open the refrigerator door. Taking a calming breath, I let the cold air wash over me and cool my bubbling anger.

I can’t let him get to me. I can’t let him drag me down to his level. Ivy needs parents, not an overgrown man-child to be her best friend. And if Everest isn’t capable of that, then I’ll need to be the parent for both of us.

I scan the inside of the fridge, still filled with takeout containers and casserole dishes from neighbors and friends. With so much going on, none of us have had the time or desire to cook. So we’ve been surviving on the generosity of others and the swiftness of the food delivery guys.

But tonight’s not the night for leftovers. It’s the first night of our new normal, and even if Everest is determined to sabotage it, the least we can do is eat dinner as a… “family.”

I twitch even just thinking the word. Ivy and I are family, there’s no question about that. But me and Everest? God, I rue the day.

Before Mom left, she and Nell made a trip to the grocery store for some basics. Fruits and vegetables. Family packs of chicken that I can divvy up and freeze. I’m not a gourmet chef, but I’m pretty decent. I’ve cooked for myself regularly since college and I have an impressive collection of cookbooks back at my place. I make a mental note to look up more kid-friendly recipes. Maybe even ones that Ivy and I can cook together.

I pull out vegetables and chicken for an Asian stir fry. It’s simple. Easy. It’s a recipe I got from Eden and I know for a fact that Ivy likes it.

My mind wanders as I cook. Everest and I need to figure out a game plan for getting Ivy ready for school in the mornings. Most days, I should be able to drop her off on my way to work. But Everest will need to pick her up when she’s done. I don’t know if he’s spoken to his bosses at Mars yet, but he’ll need to change his work schedule to accommodate.

We’ll need to get in touch with that babysitting agency. I’m loathe to leave Ivy with a babysitter if we can avoid it. Especially considering what happened the last time she was left with a babysitter. But there might be days when it’s unavoidable.

And I need to set up an introductory meeting with the child psychologist her school recommended. This will be a difficult few months for Ivy and I’ll feel better having a professional who can guide us through the process. Hell, I should probably call up my own therapist and schedule a few sessions myself.

When I’m finished cooking, I venture upstairs and find them in Ivy’s room. Everest’s built her a blanket fort and they’re both huddled up inside it, surrounded by all of her stuffed animals. Zuzi takes center stage under her arm.

Everest whispers something I can’t hear from the door and a small, almost reluctant, smile appears on Ivy’s face. I think it might be the first time she’s smiled all week.

Irritation skitters across my skin. Everest is good with her. He always has been. He can make her smile and laugh when no one else can, not even her parents. I’m not too proud to admit that he’s probably better with her than I am. But then, I shouldn’t be surprised. Emotionally, he’s closer to her age than to mine.

“Knock knock.” When they both turn to look at me with matching wide-eyed expressions, my heart thuds hard against my ribs. This is us now. For better or worse, this is who we are. The weight of that reality sits heavily on my chest and it takes a moment for me to draw in a full breath. “Dinner’s ready.”

To his credit, Everest immediately climbs out of the blanket fort. “Come on, Ivy-bear, let’s see what Uncle Owen’s whipped up for dinner, ‘kay?” He reaches back to help Ivy out, but she doesn’t budge.

“I’m not hungry.” She burrows deeper into the mess of blankets and stuffed animals.

Everest glances uneasily in my direction. “I bet it’s really yummy, though, right?”

“It’s Asian stir fry. The same kind your mommy used to make.”

My comment hangs in the air for a split second before Ivy lets out a high-pitched whine and thrashes around, fists pummeling her poor animals. Fucking hell. Why did I have to mention her mommy?

Everest shoots me a glare, as if I purposefully set out to upset Ivy.

“Ives! Ivy-bear! Ivy-poo! Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s not exactly the same as your mommy’s. No one could make it as good as your mommy did. Uncle Owen just made his own version of it.”

“I don’t wanna! I don’t wanna!”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to.”

What? No. Of course she needs to eat. We can’t let her skip meals just because she’s in a bad mood. I step in closer and crouch down next to Everest.

“Ivy, you have to eat dinner.”

Everest elbows me out of the way and the only thing keeping me from pushing him back is the fact that we’re right in front of our niece.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to eat anything you don’t want, ‘kay?”

“Everest,” I grit out between clenched teeth. We can’t let her dictate her own meals. What if she wants cookies for dinner? Or ice cream for breakfast? She needs a healthy, balanced diet.

“What do you want for dinner, Ives? Listen to your tummy. What does it want?” Everest puts his hand on her rounded stomach and Ivy puts both of her hands on top of his. Together, her two hands are barely the same size as one of his.

She makes a concentrated listening face before announcing. “Chicken nuggets. My tummy wants chicken nuggets.”

“Chicken nuggets!” Everest exclaims like it’s the best food in the world. “I love chicken nuggets!”

I suppress a groan. Of course Everest loves chicken nuggets. Child. “We’re not having chicken nuggets. There aren’t any in the house, to begin with. And also, they’re not good for you.”

In fact, chicken nuggets are gross. There’s no telling what kind of shit they put in those things. I know Eden didn’t like feeding them to Ivy. But I also know she and Jeremy sometimes gave in because, well, kids.

“But they’re not bad for you.” Everest shoots daggers at me with his eyes. “Better to have chicken nuggets than nothing at all.”

Ivy joins him with the full weight of a six-year-old’s glare. “Yeah, chicken nuggets or nothing.”

I honestly, genuinely sputter, not sure how I’m supposed to respond. “But I’ve already made Asian stir fry.” I want to smack myself in the forehead. What was I hoping to accomplish with that statement? It’s not like either of these two are going to listen to me.

Everest rolls his eyes and opens his arms to Ivy. “Let’s go find some chicken nuggets.”

She quickly launches herself into his arms. “With lots of ketchup.”

“We’ll drown them in ketchup.” Everest picks her up and carries her out of the room.

I hurry after them. “Where are you going?”

“To find chicken nuggets!” Everest points into the distance like they’re about to embark on an adventure.

“To find chicken nuggets!” Ivy shouts.

“But…” My protest dies on my lips. But what about the stir fry I made?

Everest and Ivy are already at the front door and he’s helping her into her shoes and coat. He throws a smirk at me. “We’ll pick you up some too.”

I don’t dignify his comment with a response. Instead, I cross my arms defensively over my chest as my insides twist with jealousy and pain.

The door closes behind them and I stare at it for several long seconds before I head back to the kitchen.

The stir fry is still in the wok, covered to keep it warm. So much for cooking. So much for sharing our first dinner together. Why did I even bother? What was the point of trying?

We’re not really a family. I’m not really a parent. Ivy would rather be with fun Uncle Everest than boring Uncle Owen. Everest and I can barely stand each other.

I was delusional, thinking that tonight matters, that it means something, that it’s important. It’s not. This whole farce is doomed and all I should hope for is to simply get through each day.

I go to the refrigerator and pull open the freezer. The tub of salted caramel ice cream sits in the corner and I send up a silent thank you to Mom. Somehow, she knew I would need this. I rip off the lid, grab a spoon, and dig in.