Pumped (Mars Fitness #3)

Chapter 30

CHAPTER

THIRTY

OWEN

I blink.

Did I— Did she?—

Then it hits me. Like a sword straight through my gut, twisting, slicing through me.

You’re not my daddy.

Ivy’s small footsteps reverberate through the house, then the sound of a door opening and the unmistakable noise of the city.

I spin around in the chair, not believing what my ears are telling me.

“Ivy?” Everest is already out of his seat. “Ivy!” He races around the table and out of the kitchen. I’m hot on his heels, running flat out for the foyer.

The front door is standing open and so is the outer door of the vestibule. My stomach drops through the floor and my heart jumps into my throat.

No. No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This has to be some sort of twisted nightmare.

I smash into Everest at the top of the stoop. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know! I can’t see her!”

We scan the sidewalk in both directions, but there’s no sign of a small blond head. There isn’t the pitter-patter of small footsteps pounding down the concrete. No flash of pink from the flouncy skirt she’s wearing.

“Fuck. Where is she?” Everest runs down the steps to the sidewalk, hands on his head, a look of panic on his face.

My brain kicks into crisis mode. We need to split up and search for her. She’s a little girl. She can’t run that fast. She couldn’t have gone far.

I reach back to shut the door behind me, then follow Everest down the steps. “You go that way. I’ll go this way. Use your phone to stay in touch.” I push Everest toward the right and then take off in the opposite direction.

“Ivy!” I check the sunken patios that lead to the garden-level entrances of brownstones. I run up stoops to check every house’s vestibules. I zigzag back and forth across the street, screaming Ivy’s name.

With every spot I check that’s empty, my heart rate kicks up a notch. With every second that passes without finding her, fear squeezes me a little tighter, crushing my chest and twisting my stomach.

This is my fault. She ran away because of me. If I hadn’t been arguing with her all day. If I hadn’t been so hard on her and just given her some time to cool off instead of… instead of…

Fuck! What if she gets hurt? What if someone kidnaps her? What if we can’t find her and she just vanishes into thin air? It’ll be my fault. I’ll never forgive myself. I won’t be able to live with myself.

“IVY!”

At the end of the block, I scan the intersection, looking for any bit of blonde or pink I can find. Which way would she have gone? Left or right? I don’t know. There’s no way to tell.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I yank it out, stabbing the accept button.

“Did you find her?” I yell before I’ve even gotten the phone to my ear.

“No. You?” Everest sounds as panicked and scared as I feel.

Why the fuck would I be asking him if he found her if I already have? “No. I’m…” I spin in a circle, just in case I passed right by her somehow. Still nothing. Where would she go? Where would she feel safe?

“I’m going to check the ice cream place she likes.” The idea comes to me almost after the words leave my mouth. “You check the park.”

“The park. Right. Good idea. Okay.”

I hang up and navigate to my photos app to find a recent photo of Ivy. There’s one of her from the zoo, laughing at the camera with a butterfly on her head.

“Excuse me, have you seen this little girl?” I shove my phone in the face of a pedestrian walking past me. “She’s six years old. About this high.”

The older woman squints at the screen, but then shakes her head, casting an apologetic look at me. “Sorry, I haven’t.”

I don’t wait for her to finish talking before taking off down the street again. “Excuse me, have you seen this little girl?”

“No, never seen her. Sorry.”

“Ivy! Ivy!” I half-walk, half-run, checking every hiding spot I see, making my way toward the ice cream place we often take her to. It’s only a few blocks away, but today, it feels like it’s in another state entirely.

“Excuse me, have you seen this little girl?”

“Naw, man. Good luck, though.”

Fuck. I stop every single person on the street, but none of them have seen any sign of Ivy. And with every “sorry” and every look of pity, I die a little bit inside.

Where the fuck is she?

The ice cream shop is at the end of the next block and I hope to god she’s there. No, I pray—genuinely, for the first time in my life—to whatever god or higher power that might exist. I’ll do anything— anything —as long as she’s okay.

The windows of the shop are covered with posters, so I can’t see inside. I grab the door handle and wrench it open to throw myself through.

“Ivy?!”

Everything in the shop grinds to a standstill as all head swivels in my direction.

“Ivy?” I ignore anyone taller than four feet, weaving around them looking for my little girl.

There! A head of blonde hair in pigtails.

“Ivy!” I grab her by the shoulders, but when I spin her around, it isn’t my Ivy. It’s another little girl with blonde hair.

Her mom yanks her back from me. “Hey! Get your hands off her!”

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I just—” I scan the rest of the store, but there aren’t any more little girls with blonde hair. Ivy isn’t here. Why isn’t she here?

I pull her photo again. “Has anyone seen this little girl? Her name is Ivy. She loves bubblegum ice cream. We bring her here all the time. Please. If anyone’s seen her… Plea—” My voice cracks and I wrap my free arm around my middle, trying to physically hold myself together.

The mom’s expression turns from outraged to sympathetic. She leans in to look at Ivy’s photo before shaking her head. The three other parents do the same, offering their empty, useless condolences.

I stagger out of the store, struggling to drag air into my lungs. My fingers are numb as I try to call Everest. It takes me three attempts before I manage to hit the call button.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

Pick up, goddamn it. Pick up the fucking phone, you motherfucker.

I’m about to hang up and try again when the call connects.

“I found her! I’ve got her! She’s okay!”

“Where? Where are you?” I take off in the direction of the park.

“At the library. We’re at the Brooklyn Central Library.”

I hang up and run as fast as I can, dodging around other pedestrians and barely slowing down to cross streets.

The library in Prospect Park is miles away from our house. How the hell did she get there so quickly? She’s just a little girl. Her legs can’t possibly move so fast. We were literally seconds behind her.

It takes me fifteen minutes to get to the library and I immediately spot Everest sitting on the steps out front, Ivy snug and secure in his lap.

“Ivy!” I race up to them, practically barreling into them in my haste. I press kisses to the top of Ivy’s head, brush her hair back from her tear-streaked face, check her arms and legs for any cuts or scrapes.

Emotions, huge and uncontrolled, ricochet around inside me so hard it feels like I’m going to topple over and burst open. Relief floods through me, but at the same time fear escapes the tightly shut box I’ve crammed it into. It rushes forward, fierce and unrelenting, plowing down every other thought, every other feeling.

I haul Ivy into my arms and squeeze her tightly to me, not caring if I’m being too rough or if I’m squishing her. I need the weight of her body against mine. I need her scent in my nose.

“Don’t you ever do that again! Don’t ever run out of the house like that! You can’t just run away from us when you’re upset. Don’t you know how dangerous it is out here for a little girl?”

Ivy’s sobbing into my shirt, crying out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” on repeat.

“What if you got hurt? What if a driver wasn’t paying attention and hit you? What if a stranger kidnapped you? We wouldn’t know where you were. You can’t do that to us.”

“Owen. Stop.” Everest grabs me by the back of my neck and forces me to meet his gaze. “You’re scaring her.”

I’m scaring her ? What about me? What about my fear? What about the abject terror coursing through my veins. We could have lost her. We could have lost her and I would never have forgiven myself. We could have lost her and we almost did.

Pull yourself together, Lambert.

I force myself to take a deep breath, though it feels more like a gasp than anything else. My vision blurs as hot wet tears roll down my cheeks.

“Do you have your handkerchief?” Everest asks and I twist sideways so he can pull it out of my pocket. “Never thought I’d be so glad you carry one of these around.”

He shakes it out and helps me wipe my tears away. “It’s okay. She’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

I nod, not necessarily in agreement, but more like I’m being given instructions. Yes, I understand—well, no, I don’t understand, but I’ll take your word for it.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Everest helps me to my feet with Ivy in my arms. He keeps his hand on my back, guiding me down the sidewalk.

I don’t pay attention to where we’re going or if there are any oncoming pedestrians or cars. I just let Everest direct me where he needs me to go. My arms stay wrapped around Ivy, as if someone might snatch her from me. She clings to me just as tightly, like she never wants to let go.

I don’t remember how we get home. I don’t remember going up the stoop or Everest unlocking the door. I’m not fully aware of my surroundings until I’m sitting on the couch in the living room, settling Ivy in my lap.

My cheeks are tight from my dried tears. Ivy’s fallen silent too.

Everest comes into the living room, holding two glasses of water. He sits down next to us with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping like he can’t quite sit up straight anymore.

“How did you…” My voice is raspy and I can’t quite bring myself to finish the question.

Everest glances at me with a sympathetic expression before handing me the glass. I take a quick sip, then offer it to Ivy. She holds the glass with both hands, drinking only a little before giving it back to Everest. She immediately curls herself into me again, the movement soothing some of the terror gripping my soul.

“I was in the park when the library’s security guard called me,” Everest answers my unspoken question. “Ivy had given him my number.”

“Good, that’s good.” I give the top of Ivy’s head a kiss and force myself to loosen my hold on her. She’s home. She’s safe. She’s okay.

“Ives?”

Ivy peeks out at Everest, eyes huge and glistening.

“We were really worried about you,” Everest says, sounding more serious than I’ve ever heard him before. “Do you understand?”

She nods, her hair rubbing against my shirt.

“Why did you run out of the house?” he asks.

She shrugs and tucks her chin to her chest.

Everest glances up at me again, worry marring his handsome face.

For once, I don’t want to do the responsible thing—I don’t want to have this conversation. I’d rather bundle Ivy up in a million blankets, feed her all her favorite foods, and let her watch all her favorite movies. I’d read her heartwarming bedtime stories and watch her fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

I want to pretend today never happened, rewind the clock, and start again.