Pumped (Mars Fitness #3)

Chapter 31

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

EVEREST

I’ve never been more scared in my entire life. Not when I watched the movie It at five years old. Not when I stared down a ten-foot wave. Not when Eden and Jeremy died and left us with custody of Ivy.

Watching Ivy disappear out that door felt like my heart was being torn from my chest, like the air was being sucked out of my lungs. And when we couldn’t find her on the street, I thought for sure I was going to die on the spot.

I swear to god, I almost lost it. Just, go completely fucking hysterical. The only thing that kept me sane and functional was knowing that Owen was with me, that he was in charge, and he would know what to do.

I was in the park, at a loss for how I was supposed to search the whole damn thing. How do I find one little girl among the thousands of people across hundreds of acres?

I dropped to my knees when I saw her at the security desk in the library, and not only so I would be on her level. My knees just gave way under the flood of relief. My hands were barely functional when I tried to pull out the copy of the court letter that states I’m Ivy’s guardian. Thank fucking god Owen makes me carry it around, folded up in my wallet.

Owen was beyond distraught when he finally found us at the library. I’ve never seen him like that before. I mean, me losing my shit isn’t all that usual, but Owen always keeps his cool, always stays level-headed, never freaks out the way I do. So seeing him on the brink like that, barely holding it together… Jesus Christ, that was almost scarier than losing Ivy. Like, I overreact all the time, but if Owen’s that close to breaking down, then it’s really, really bad.

Ivy is so small all curled up in Owen’s arms. Her eyes are puffy and red. Her nose is all snotty. Her hair is a wild, tangled mess. She looks so dejected, so miserable.

“Do you remember what you said before you ran out of the house?” I ask Ivy, trying to keep my voice light and non-judgmental. I don’t want her to feel like I’m scolding her, but I need her to understand that what she did is not okay.

Owen flinches at my question, his expression looking gutted.

Ivy makes a soft, pathetic sound and squirms uncomfortably in Owen’s lap. She definitely remembers. And I’d bet a month’s worth of protein shakes that she said it to hit Owen where it would hurt him the most.

“Do you know how that made us feel? How it made Uncle Owen feel?”

She squirms some more, pressing her face into Owen’s chest so she doesn’t have to look at me.

“It wasn’t a very nice thing to say, Ives. You know how words can hurt us, right? Well, what you said really hurt Uncle Owen. It hurt me too.”

She whines, clutching at Owen’s shirt, and it makes me feel like I’m the bad guy even when I know I’m not.

Owen’s lips are pressed into a firm line, his brows are furrowed, and he’s staring at a spot on the floor. Like he’s trying to beat back his emotions and keep himself in check.

I rub my hand over the short hairs at the back of his head, then lean in to plant a quick kiss on his temple. His eyes shut and he breathes in a deep, shaky breath.

A part of me wants to pretend that this whole thing didn’t happen. Just crack a joke to cut through the tension, then go on with life as if everything was fine. But everything is not fine with Ivy. It hasn’t been for weeks now, and ignoring it won’t make the problem go away.

Being an adult sucks balls.

“We know something’s been bothering you recently, Ivy-poo. You wanna tell us about it?”

She whines again and shakes her head. Owen shoots me a worried look.

“You can tell us, Ivy. Whatever it is, we’re not going to be upset. We just want to help, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Her whine shoots up a couple octaves before she bursts into tears. And not like, little tears either. Huge, body-shaking sobs that seem to come from a place much too deep for someone so young and so small.

Owen and I exchange looks of alarm. Why is she crying like this? What the hell happened?

With Owen’s handkerchief, I try to keep up with Ivy’s tears, but the cloth is soon soaked all the way through. Owen rubs her back while he murmurs soothingly to her.

Eventually, she breaks. “I’m sorry!” she wails. “I’m sorry! Please don’t leave! I’ll be good, I promise! I’ll do whatever you say. Just please don’t leave me behind.”

My gaze snaps up to Owen and he looks just as horrified as I feel. What the fuck does she mean? Does she think we’re going to leave her?

“Ivy, sweetie, what are you talking about? We’re not going anywhere. Why would we leave you?” Owen’s voice is thick with emotion. With shock, but also pain at the idea that she thinks we would ever do something like that.

“But I’ve been bad…” she says through wracking sobs that make it hard to make out her words. “I yelled at you.”

I didn’t think my heart could break any more than it already has today. But I have zero defenses when it comes to Ivy. Everything she says hits where I’m the most vulnerable. Everything she does affects me to my very core.

“You can yell at us. You can be bad or misbehave. But we’re never going to leave you. No matter what you do. We love you,” I explain.

“We might get upset or angry,” Owen adds. “But that doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

“We love you so much . We always will. We’ll always be here.” My voice cracks as I fight back a sob of my own. How did this happen? Did we not say it to her enough? Did we do something to make her think that we would abandon her?

Is this why she’s been acting so hostile lately? She thinks we’re going to leave her, and she’s, what, testing us? Pushing us away?

“But— but— Mommy and Daddy left without me. And now you’re boyfriends, so maybe you’ll leave without me too.”

The admission leaves both me and Owen stunned. Pain lances through me, fueling the grief and fear, until I’m shaking, trembling, and unstable.

It all comes back to that day, doesn’t it? Every part of our lives. Every good thing and every bad thing. All our hopes and dreams. All our deepest worries and fears. It all comes back to the day that Eden and Jeremy were taken from us. The day that our lives changed forever.

Will it ever get easier? Will the shadow of that day ever become lighter? Will we ever be free of it?

“Ivy, listen to me,” Owen speaks softly into the little space we’ve created around her. “Your mommy and daddy didn’t leave you. They loved you and would never choose to leave. They were taken. From you. From all of us. There’s a difference. We would never leave either. We love you just as much as your mommy and daddy did. We want to be together with you. We’re a family. Do you understand?”

“But— but— what if someone takes you too?”

Owen and I look at each other, and as much as I want to promise that will never happen, we both know it could. It would be irresponsible to make a promise that we might not be able to keep, that’s outside our control.

“We— I—” Owen’s mouth gaps open as he struggles with the thing we’re both thinking but neither of us wants to say out loud.

“We’re going to do our very best to stay with you,” I jump in. “We’ll do everything in our power to make sure you’re never ever alone.”

Ivy’s sobs slow to hiccups and sniffles. Gradually, she lifts her head from Owen’s tear-soaked shirt. Her face is a disaster, red and puffy and wet. But in her eyes is an awareness and maturity that no child her age should have. It’s the realization that we’re all mortal, that bad things happen to good people, and sometimes there’s nothing we can do about any of it.

I hate that look in her eyes. I hate that this is a lesson she’s had to learn at her age. I hate that we’re not able to shelter her from this reality for at least a few more years.

I brush back her tangled hair and swipe my thumb across her ruddy cheeks. “We love you, Ivy-bear. More than anything in the world. You’re the most important person in our lives. I know we’re not your mommy and daddy, but?—”

How do I explain this to her? That neither of us wants to replace Eden and Jeremy. That we would do anything to bring them back if we could. That we’re going to keep doing our best, even if our best will never live up to the real thing.

That this is so hard. We’re trying, but we’re all going to fail and make mistakes. Families are messy sometimes, but that doesn’t mean any of us will give up. We’re all in this, together, forever.

“But we love you more than anything in the world,” Owen finishes the sentence I couldn’t.

Ivy watches Owen for a few seconds, as if she’s weighing the truth of his words. Then she turns her measuring gaze to me and I try to pour every ounce of love I feel for her into my expression.

“I love you too,” she whispers back to us, innocent and utterly precious.

“We’re a family,” I say. “We’re gonna stick together, ’kay?”

She nods. The movement is small, but it feels huge, like we’ve reached another milestone and graduated to the next level.

Owen tucks Ivy’s head under his chin again and I slouch down to rest my head on his shoulder. We sit like that for long minutes, no one speaking, no one moving. The three of us soaking in each other’s presence, reconnecting after the trauma of the afternoon.

At some point, I pull out my phone to order pizza, adding extra pineapples because Ivy likes them and Owen hates them.

They’ve both fallen asleep, holding onto each other like they never want to let go. They’re so peaceful, so serene. And as I watch them, I send a silent message up to Eden and Jeremy, wherever they might be.

We’ve got her. You don’t need to worry. Between me and Owen, we’ll make sure she grows up to make you proud.