18. IVY
18
IVY
The door to the hotel room burst open, and a familiar set of eyes locked with mine. Hunter’s guards hadn’t returned me to Hunter’s house—all our homes were deemed unsafe at the moment, so they’d taken my mom and me to this hotel room, where they helped me treat my wounds. Which, thankfully, were not serious. I was grateful that my mom had finally calmed down and even more grateful she was in the shower right now so I could have a moment to confront him.
As Grayson and I faced each other, time seemed to freeze, and a whirlwind of emotions passed between us. My throat tightened, and my palms grew clammy, partly from the ordeal I’d just endured and partly from the relief that Grayson was okay after he’d chased Daniel. But there was something else—a growing unease stemming from Daniel’s accusation against Grayson.
It can’t be true. If it was, my heart was not getting the memo, beating to the rhythm of his steps as he crossed the room in a few strides, his intense gaze never wavering from my face.
“You’re covered in blood,” I whispered.
“Not mine,” he murmured absently, eyes scanning me from head to toe.
“How badly are you hurt?” he asked, his tone both tender and urgent.
It depends…
Physically was one answer. Emotionally was to be determined. Daniel’s words echoed through my mind, a poison that threatened to shatter everything I held dear.
When he drew his palm to my cheek, all I could think was, His touch still feels warm and comforting. It can’t be the touch of my father’s killer. It just can’t.
“I’m fine,” I claimed. “Just a few minor burns and bruises.”
Grayson’s jaw clenched, anger and pain battling across his features.
“I’m so sorry, Ivy,” he whispered, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. “I should have been there to protect you.”
He wrapped his arms around me, but the fear didn’t let me savor it for long.
“I…I need to talk to you,” I said, my words trembling. “Alone.”
At the tone of my voice, Grayson pulled back, searching my face.
“Did they…”
“No,” I assured quickly, but the agony of what I needed to ask slashed through my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Grayson sent the guards out of the room, cupping my cheek in his warm palm again, but this time, I stepped back.
“Ivy, what’s going on?”
I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to hold the fractured pieces of my soul together as I looked him in the eyes—the eyes that had stared at me with professions of love. The eyes that hungered for me when his body had pressed into mine.
Daniel was lying. Everything will be okay.
“I’ve never told you my father’s name,” I began, my pulse racing.
Grayson’s brow furrowed.
“My dad isn’t my biological father,” I explained, my voice shaking. “My real dad took off shortly after I was born, and my stepdad is the man who raised me since the age of two. I’ve always called him Dad, but we don’t have the same last name. Mine is Jackson, but…”
The words lodged in my throat, as if they were little bombs, recognizing they had the power to explode and destroy everything. If Grayson was the person that killed my dad, I didn’t know how I would survive.
“Hey.” Grayson rubbed the outside of my arms; his touch was meant to be comforting, but now, it felt different. “You’re trembling.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say.
“My dad’s name is… was Alistair Wainwright.”
Grayson froze, his body going rigid. He stopped moving, stopped blinking, stopped…everything. The silence stretched between us, drowning out every sound except that of our breaths.
Please, I silently begged. Please tell me it’s not true. Tell me Daniel was lying. Tell me that the man I love isn’t the monster who destroyed my world, who stole my family from me. Tell me that my world isn’t about to come crashing down around me.