Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
EVEREST
“Great job! You totally killed it today!” I stand next to the studio door and high-five each of the guys in my class as they leave. I’m bouncing on my toes, hyped up on the adrenaline and energy of the class.
Life’s been good the past couple weeks since we got back from the Memorial Day weekend at Owen’s parents’ house. Like, unbelievably good. Like, better than I’ve ever experienced.
Mars opened up registration for our outdoor summer boot camp classes and they filled up in a couple days. Owen and I finished clearing out Eden and Jeremy’s old room and we’ve unofficially moved in—unofficially because if I think about it too much, the idea of taking over my sister’s old bedroom still kind of freaks me out. The school semester is drawing to a close and Ivy’s birthday is coming up.
And… that’s probably the only dark cloud in this whole situation—Ivy. I don’t know what happened. It’s like she got body-snatched somewhere between Westchester and Brooklyn. She started out the drive as a sweet kid—kind, well-mannered, and easy-going. But by the time we got home, she’d morphed into this irritable and short-tempered terror. She and Owen are back to arguing almost every day, and this time, I kind of have to side with Owen. Crazy, I know.
But seriously. She gets upset over nothing . We asked her what she wanted to watch for movie night the other day and she couldn’t decide. When Owen picked something for her, she threw a temper tantrum. I took her grocery shopping last week, and when I said she couldn’t buy the entire candy aisle, she had a meltdown in the middle of the store. We went on a family walk one evening, and she threw herself onto the grass, wailing and flailing for no apparent reason. Owen just about died of mortification when strangers started staring.
Both Mom and Alyssa say that this is normal, that kids around Ivy’s age go through bursts of being difficult and shit, but then it goes away. It’s like they’re transitioning from being a kid kid, to like being an independent person who wants to do things their own way. I don’t know. The whole thing sounds fucked up to me. I just want our old Ivy back.
When the last guy leaves the studio, I start tidying up, putting away my mic, grabbing my phone from the dock on the sound system. I’ve got an hour to kill before my next class, so I head to the staff break room for a snack.
Donnie and Christian are sitting at the table and nod hello as I grab a bottle of water and a granola bar and plop down on the couch.
I’ve just bitten into the granola bar when my phone rings. It’s Owen and my stomach sinks. He’s at home with Ivy today and he doesn’t usually call unless it’s an emergency. I quickly swipe to answer.
“Hey, everything okay?”
“Uncle Ev!” Ivy’s sob is so loud that I have to pull my phone away from my ear.
“Ivy? What’s wrong? What happened?” I shoot to my feet and race for the door. Is Owen hurt? Is that why Ivy’s calling me from his phone?
“I don’t wanna go swimming!”
I stop in my tracks, halfway across the room. She doesn’t want to go swimming? “What?”
“Uncle O’s making me go swimming and I don’t wanna!” Then thumps that sound like she’s stomping her feet on the floor.
“Wha— Uh— I don’t understand.” Was Owen planning on taking her swimming today? But Ivy loves swimming. Is this another one of her completely irrational temper tantrums?
Ivy’s beyond speaking now. All she can do is make crying sounds like she’s a wounded animal. I cringe. I hate it when Ivy cries and a part of me wants to rush home and comfort her. But another part, slightly guilty and selfish, wants to hang up and let Owen deal with the chaos for today. I dealt with her yesterday when Owen had a shift at the animal hospital, now it’s his turn.
I turn around and drop back onto the couch. Both Donnie and Christian are watching me with concerned expressions, but I just roll my eyes and shake my head.
“Ivy? Ivy-bear?” I try to cut in in between her hysterics. “Where’s Uncle Owen? Is he there? Can I talk to him, please?”
She just wails even louder.
I drop my head back and stare up at the ceiling. “Iiivyyy… I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Remember what your therapist said, you have to use your words.”
There’s a snicker on the other side of the room and when I lift my head, I find Donnie and Christian trying desperately not to laugh. I give them the middle finger, but that just makes them laugh harder.
Ha. Ha. So funny. Neither of them has kids they have to raise. Of all the damn people at Mars, how the hell did I turn into the first and only parent of the group?
“Ivy?!” Owen’s voice filters in, barely audible over Ivy’s cries. “What are you— Is that my phone? Who are you talking to?”
There’s a fumbling sound before Owen comes on. “Hello? Everest?”
“Yes, hi, what’s going on?”
Owen sighs so heavily I can feel the weight of it through the phone line. “Hell if I know,” he mutters. The sound of Ivy’s crying fades as Owen walks away. “I told her we’re signing her up for swimming lessons, like she wanted when we were at my parents’ house. And then she just went berserk.” There’s a pause before Owen speaks again, more softly this time. “I don’t know what to do, Ev.”
The defeat in his voice breaks my heart. Owen always knows what to do. He prides himself in always having a game plan, always knowing the next steps. And even if he didn’t, he would never admit that to anyone—least of all me.
But that was the old Owen and this is the new one. He trusts me. He actually, really trusts me. It’s… humbling. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s confidant before. I mean, the guys tell me shit all the time, but not stuff that’s like, serious.
“Do you want me to come home early?”
There’s another pause as Owen considers the offer. “When are you done?”
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Owen sounds so small, so vulnerable. His voice shakes a bit, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“Technically, I have one more class. It ends at four, so probably four-forty-five? But I can try to find someone to cover for me? If you want me home now?”
Owen doesn’t answer right away. The only sound coming across the line is his ragged breathing. I can hear him debating with himself—stay strong, push through, don’t give in or accept that he doesn’t always have to do everything himself, that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness.
I take pity on him and make an executive decision so he doesn’t have to say what he wants out loud. “I’m coming home. I?—”
My gaze flicks to Donnie, still sitting at the table. He doesn’t even wait for me to ask the question, just nods and silently mouths “No problem.”
I jump to my feet and dash toward the staff locker room. “Donnie’s going take my class. I’m leaving now.”
“No, no, you don’t have to do that. It’s only a couple more hours. I’ll be fine.” Owen throws his objections at me, but I can hear the mix of guilt and relief seeping into his words. He feels bad for being an inconvenience, but he’s grateful at the same time. That’s my Owen—so precious and needy, but too damn proud to admit it.
“Too late. It’s already done. Donnie’s telling Beau right now.”
“Ev…” The way Owen trails off, it’s not clear whether he’s scolding or whining. It’s probably a bit of both.
“Just hang tight. I’ll be there as fast as I can.” I throw open my locker and start throwing things into my duffel.
Owen sucks in a deep, shaky breath. “Okay, thanks.”
“Of course, babe. Love you.”
Owen mumbles something that sounds sort of like a “love you too” and then hangs up.
Beau is at the front desk with Sawyer when I run out. “Everything okay? Donnie told me he’s taking your class.”
“Yeah, I think so? Ivy’s just being a pain in the ass and Owen needs backup.”
Sawyer shakes his head. “This is why we’re never having kids. Preston would never know what to do with them.”
“No, he’d just hire an expensive nanny,” Beau responds.
Sawyer tilts his head in thought. “Actually, yeah, he probably would.”
Beau turns back to me. “Anyway, you go. We’re good here.”
“Thanks, Beau. I owe you one,” I call out as I jog for the door.
I make it home in record time, but the house is silent, like eerily silent, when I walk inside. I can almost feel the tension vibrating in the air.
“We’re back here!” Owen shouts from the kitchen.
I brace myself as I head in. What I find there is deceptively calm.
Ivy and Owen are sitting across the kitchen table from each other. Owen’s leg is bouncing like mad, even with his hand gripping his knee. Ivy’s arms are crossed over her tiny chest, her chin stuck out in the most epic pout as she stares resolutely at a spot in the middle of the table.
Owen meets my gaze, eyes flat and hard before softening into something that makes me want to pull him into the tightest hug.
I move toward him, drawn in by the helplessness I read on his face. I set my hand on his shoulder and squeeze. He takes a deep breath and his knee stops bouncing.
“Hey guys, what’s up?”
Ivy lifts her gaze from the table and the glare she shoots in my direction rivals the dirtiest scowl Owen’s ever leveled at me. I almost take a step backward at the hostility rolling off her. Who is this girl? What did she do with our Ivy?
“Ivy, do you want to tell Uncle Everest what’s wrong?” Owen’s voice is tightly controlled.
“No!” she fires back with zero hesitation, and if it weren’t for my hand on Owen’s shoulder, he probably would’ve flown out of his chair.
“Ivy,” I say before Owen can go off on her, making sure to keep my tone level and calm. “Is this about the swimming lessons?”
Owen huffs an unamused scoff. “That was an hour ago.”
Does that mean they’ve moved on to another argument? How many arguments can they have in the hour since they called me? Jesus.
“So what is this argument about?”
Ivy scrunches up her face until she almost looks like she’s snarling. The whine she lets out is a little better than a dying animal.
“Where do you want to have your birthday party, Ivy?” Owen demands.
Birthday party? How the hell did they get from swimming lessons to her birthday party?
“I thought we were having it here?” I didn’t even know there was another option. We’ve got a huge backyard and Owen was looking into getting one of those inflatable bouncy castles.
“I don’t wanna have my birthday here!” Ivy shouts so loud, I do take a step back this time.
Owen’s hands are curled into fists so tight his knuckles have gone white. His eyes are closed and… is that a tear gathering on his lashes? Shit. This is… this is bad.
I walk around the table and pull out the chair next to Ivy’s. “Ives, hey, why don’t you want to have your party here?” I ask gently.
“I just don’t!” There’s a wobble in her voice that sends up alarm bells.
Owen’s on the verge of tears. Ivy’s about to break down in sobs. How the hell did we go from a happy little family to this?
“Hey, hey.” I put my arm around Ivy’s shoulders and thank fucking god she doesn’t shrug me off. “It’s okay. We don’t have to have it here. We can have the party in the park? Or like, a Chuck E. Cheese? There are plenty of places.
“No! No! No!” She bounces in her seat like she’s trying to stomp her foot.
“Ivy! Inside voice!” Owen barks at her and I wince. That’s going to set her off.
And just as I’m thinking it, Ivy starts wailing.
“No!” Her cry is a knife straight through my heart.
I want to gather her into my arms, cradle her in my lap, and rock her side-to-side until she settles again. But instead, she pushes her chair away from the kitchen table with a loud scrape and jumps to her feet. “You can’t tell me what to do! I don’t have to listen to you! I hate you! I hate you! You’re not my daddy!”