Chapter 11

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

EVEREST

The house is empty when I get home. There’s no sign of Ivy or Owen. No sign of them having been here since this morning.

Owen said they’d be home in twenty. Well, it’s been twenty. So where the hell are they?

This is bullshit. We’re supposed to be working together and I’ve been trying to do my part. I pick Ivy up from school almost every day. I calm her down when Owen riles her up into a temper tantrum. I spend every waking moment when I’m not at work taking care of her. He keeps accusing me of being irresponsible, but I’ve been fucking responsible! What more does he fucking want from me?

I check my phone again. Twenty-five minutes now and still no update from Owen. I jab the call button. It goes to fucking voicemail.

“Hey, asshole, where are you? Call me back.”

I drop my phone on the table next to the door and stare at it with my hands on my hips.

Ring, damn it. Ring. It doesn’t. I need to steal Owen’s phone and link it to mine so I can track his location.

Twenty-eight minutes.

Should I go to Ivy’s school to look for them? If they’ve already left, then maybe I’ll find them along the way. But what if they went somewhere else? No, I shake my head at myself. Owen would bring her straight home. He’ll probably dump her with me so he can go back to work.

Twenty-nine.

One more minute. I’m giving them one more minute and then I’m going to search for them. I count down backward from sixty, eyes glued to my phone, waiting for the number to flip. The second it does, I snatch it from the table and wrench the door open. I step into the vestibule that separates the inner and outer doors and almost collapse with relief.

Owen and Ivy are back.

Holding open the door for them, I bite back the dozens of questions I want to throw at Owen. Where the hell have they been? What the hell happened at school? And most importantly, is Ivy okay?

She looks okay as she scrambles up the steps of the stoop and into the house. “Uncle Ev! We got ice cream!”

“That’s… amazing.” I crouch down so she can give me a sticky-fingered hug. Over her head, I shoot Owen a glare, but he’s busy locking the door behind us and taking off his coat. “What flavor did you get?”

“Bubblegum! And Uncle O said we can have chicken nuggets for dinner!”

“He did?” I say, genuinely surprised. Ice cream and chicken nuggets? Two items on Owen’s I Hate Fun list. What the hell?

“I need to check in with the hospital. Can you help her get washed up?” Owen might’ve phrased the last part as a question, but since he threw it over his shoulder while walking away, it was definitely more of an order.

I scowl at Owen’s back as I help Ivy out of her backpack and coat. “Come on, Ivy-bear, let’s get cleaned up, ‘kay?”

“Okay!”

Upstairs, I sit her on top of the toilet seat and wet a hand towel. “So, Ives, you wanna tell me what happened at school today?”

She immediately loses the bubbly happy vibe she came home with. “No.”

My heart hurts at how dejected she sounds and I don’t want to press the issue, but I need to know.

“Did someone hit you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “No.”

“Did someone call you names?”

She wriggles on the seat like she’s uncomfortable. “Maybe.”

“Was it someone in your class?”

She nods. “Chad.”

Chad. Sounds like a douchebag name. “What did Chad say?” I ask as anger rises to a simmer inside me. Who is this fucking Chad kid and where do I find him so I can return the favor?

“He…” Ivy takes a deep breath, like having to tell the story is physically draining. “He said that I don’t have a mommy or a daddy. He called me a or-fin.”

Orphan? Is this fucking kid for real? How the hell does he even know that word at six years old? Anger heats to a boil in my veins, hot and violent, threatening to burst from me.

Does Owen know about this? How can he be so fucking calm about it? I need to check in with the hospital —my ass. We need to be raising holy hell over this. That kid needs to be taught a lesson. He needs to pay.

I toss the towel into the sink and spin around to go give Owen a piece of my mind, only to find him standing just outside the bathroom. The fucker moves like a cat sometimes.

“Did you know about this?” I spit out, clenching my teeth to keep my anger in check.

“Not that part,” he says, way too cool and collected for my taste. Christ, he gets more animated when talking about the goddamn weather.

“What are we going to do about it?”

He cocks an infuriating eyebrow. “What do you want to do about it?”

Outrage and frustration rage inside me, but before I can unleash it on Owen, the doorbell rings. We stare at each other.

“Are you…?” I start.

“No. You?”

I shake my head. We make a beeline for the front door.

On our doorstep is a woman and when we open the outer door, it reveals a child. A boy. About Ivy’s age.

“Hi, I’m Scarlett Kimball, Chad’s mom. Are you Ivy’s uncles?”

I’m stunned by fury and disbelief. This is Chad? This scrawny little shrimp of a boy? He’s so small, I could dropkick him across a football field. He dared call my Ivy—my perfect angel Ivy—names?

But here he is, standing in front of our door with his mom who looks genuinely embarrassed and ashamed. He’s got the hem of his coat fisted in his tiny hands, chin to chest, hunched in on himself like he wants to disappear into the ground. He doesn’t look like a bully. He looks kind of pathetic.

“Yes. I’m Owen Lambert. This is Everest Wheeler. Would you like to come in?”

My head snaps around at Owen’s request. Would they like to come in? Why in the world would we want to invite them inside our house? We should make them stand on the stoop, in the fucking cold.

“That’s so kind. We won’t take up too much of your time. Chad just needs to say something to Ivy.” Scarlett gives her son a nudge and he stomps up the remaining steps.

Owen moves to the side, pushing me out of the way at the same time, and ushers them into the foyer. “Ivy! Can you come down here for a minute?”

Small footsteps make it halfway down the stairs before they stop. When I glance up, Ivy’s got Zuzi under one arm, and she’s clutching a post on the banister with the other, staring wide-eyed at Chad. Fear is written all across her face.

This is why I didn’t want them in our house. Ivy’s already traumatized and Owen’s just making it worse.

“Hey, Ivy-bear.” I go to get her, taking her hand and leaning in close. I whisper softly, only letting my voice carry the few inches between us. “Let’s just see what they have to say, ’kay? I’ll be right here. I’ll protect you.”

She hesitates, but when I give her hand a gentle tug, she follows me down the stairs.

“Chad?” Scarlett gives her son another nudge.

He shuffles his feet and very reluctantly lifts his head. He glances quickly at Ivy, then away again. “I’m sorry,” he says. His voice carries that distinct tone of I-know-I-did-something-bad-and-now-I’m-in-trouble-and-I’m-not-happy-about-it.

“For?” Scarlett’s starting to sound threatening.

“For being mean to you and making fun of you and calling you an orphan.” Chad rushes through his sort-of apology so quickly all the words blend together.

Behind him, Scarlett looks like she’s about to throttle him, and for some reason, seeing that helps to calm my own anger. The kid’s such an asshole even his own mom can’t stand him.

“What do you say?” Owen puts a hand on Ivy's shoulder.

She peers up at him through long, pale lashes. Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“You should say ‘thank you’ and ‘I accept your apology.’”

I try to kill Owen with my eyes. How dare he? How fucking dare he ask Ivy to accept this little rat’s pathetic apology? She shouldn’t accept anything! She should demand payback. Maybe call him a couple ugly names herself.

Ivy clings to me, trying to hide behind my leg. I put my hand on her back, dislodging Owen’s in the process. She lets out a little whimper.

“She doesn’t have to do that,” Scarlett jumps in, a pleading look on her face. “Really. Chad knows what he did is wrong and there is no excuse for it. He’s getting grounded for two weeks, no playing at friends’ houses, no video games. I am so sorry. My husband is too. Not just about this, but also for your loss. I’ve met Ivy’s mom at PTA meetings before and she was so lovely. That’s why I wanted to bring him here to apologize again in person. I wanted to let you all know how sorry we are.”

The longer Scarlett rambles, the more irritated I get. So she’s met Eden before, so what? And two weeks? The kid should be grounded for the rest of the year.

But while I’m seething, Owen’s smiling like she’s just crowned him uncle of the year.

“Thank you,” he says. “We really appreciate it. It means a lot.”

I have to physically bite my lip to keep myself from lashing out.

Scarlett pulls Chad toward the door, then hurries him down the steps. “Again, so sorry. This will never happen again. I promise.”

“Thank you. I hope we’ll see you at PTA meetings soon.” Owen sees them out and closes the door behind them.

“Hey, Ivy-bear.” I struggle to keep my voice steady and even. “Why don’t you go upstairs and play with your plushies until dinner?”

She sniffles but lets go of my sweatpants. “Okay.” Slowly, she climbs the stairs one at a time.

Owen and I glare at each other in the foyer, both listening for her steps to fade.

“What the actual fuck?” I spit out, taking two large steps toward Owen.

His chin lifts, eyes blazing with defiance as he meets my gaze.

“Accepting his apology? We really appreciate it? It means a lot?” Red-hot anger roils in me, desperate to be released. How could Owen turn on Ivy like that? He’s supposed to stand up for her. He’s supposed to defend her and be on her side.

Except, all he’s done in the past few weeks is be Ivy’s worst enemy, making her do all the things she doesn’t want to do, making her cry all the time. Forget that fucking kid. Owen’s the real bully here. Owen’s the one I need to protect Ivy from.

“What was I supposed to say?” Owen’s voice is quiet, steady, calm. Cold. That’s what he is. He’s so frigid.

“Anything!” I get right up in his face. “Make the kid pay!”

“He’s six years old.”

“I don’t fucking care!”

We’re inches apart. Close enough for me to see the ring of gold around his amber-colored irises. Close enough for Owen’s exhales to blow across my chin.

This guy. This fucking guy.

I hate him so much. But I hate that my body reacts to him even more. Even now, when I’m seething in fury, my groin tightens and desire pools low in my stomach. I want to kiss that arrogant, dismissive expression off his face. I want to take him apart piece by piece and destroy him. I want him reduced to a trembling mess and I want him to know that I did it to him.

Owen’s jaw works and he lets out a short, derisive huff. Then his gaze slides away from me and he moves to the side like he’s trying to slip around me.

I don’t fucking think so.

I grab him by the arms and slam him back against the wall.

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