Chapter 22 Ivy
The station doors closed behind us with a soft, bureaucratic finality. We had said everything. The officers promised discretion. We were told not to engage with anyone and not to poke the hornet's nest while they built a case.
We stepped outside. Levi had already drifted ahead of us, leaning against the low railing where Asa stood. He wasn't even pretending not to stare, tilted slightly toward him like gravity.
"Asa," Levi said, softly, as if testing the sound. Asa's ears were pink. Not subtle about it either.
"Levi," I called, amused. "Leave my friend alone."
I meant it as a tease. Asa chuckled, grateful for the rescue, but Levi didn't even look at me. He was still watching Asa like the world had narrowed to one person.
"Asa," he said again, a little braver this time. "Are you... single?"
Arlo stopped walking next to me. Just froze mid-step.
"Uh," Asa hesitated, then smiled, gentle but honest. "You know I'm a guy."
"Thanks for the clarification," Levi said immediately. "I can see that, I can also see the killer smile and gorgeous hair, so now are you single?"
"Yes," Asa added, after a beat. "I am."
"Good," Levi said, far too quickly.
I sighed. "Levi. A word? Please? Quickly?"
March caught Asa's eye and nodded toward the car. "Come on," she said. "We'll wait."
Asa gave Levi one last shy glance before climbing into the car. The door closed. Silence followed, except for Levi's grin, which somehow grew wider instead of fading.
"Need something, Feb?" he asked, all innocence.
"Not really," I said. Then, softer, more careful. "Look, Asa's my friend. He's a sweetheart and I just..." I hesitated. "I don't want him hurt. I know you're a good guy, but... have you always been interested in men?"
"I'm not interested in men," Levi said immediately. "I'm interested in Asa."
I gaped at him. "You just met him, Levi."
He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a breathy laugh that sounded half-nervous, half-amazed. "I know. I know. Trust me, I get how insane that sounds." He shook his head, smiling at absolutely nothing. "I mean, yeah, the whole guy thing threw me off for, like, two seconds, but then—"
He stopped mid-sentence, eyes drifting, unfocused like he'd pressed replay on a moment only he could see.
"Did you see his eyes?" he said, half-dazed. "And how ridiculously gorgeous he is? And his voice—" He let out a breath, defeated. "I don't say this lightly, Feb, but I think Asa just rewired my brain. Is this what a crush feels like? Because I am... deeply unwell."
"Yeah, probably," I smiled. "Just go slow. Be careful."
"Okay," he said immediately. "Slow. I'll start slow."
"Please do."
He thought hard for a second. "I'll give him a day."
I raised an eyebrow. "A day?"
"What?" he protested. "Two days?"
"Levi!"
"Oh, come on, Feb—" He cut himself off, glancing toward Asa in the car. Asa looked up, smiling without even meaning to.
Levi froze. "...Oh my God. He smiled at me. I'm done. Completely gone."
Before I could reply, he jogged toward the car. I watched, helplessly amused, as he knocked on the window and leaned in.
"March," he said brightly, "Could you move back a bit? I want to sit next to Asa."
She stared at him, unimpressed, then slid over with an exaggerated sigh. "You owe me."
Levi beamed as he climbed in, practically glowing, while Asa turned a deeper shade of red.
"Worth it," Levi said, softly triumphant.
I shook my head, laughing softly as I followed Arlo to the car. He opened the passenger door for me, a quiet, familiar gesture.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded and slid into the seat, concentrating far too hard on appearing unaffected by his closeness, by the way he smelled and the way he looked at me.
He reached across to fasten my seat belt like he always did, and I froze.
He was too close. For a second, neither of us moved.
He met my eyes, something unreadable passing between us, then pulled back quickly.
The door shut with a soft click, sealing the street noise away. He waited a moment before starting the engine, exhaling slowly.
"Aren't we going?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said after a beat. "Just... one second."
After a while, he started driving. The city thinned as we drove. He kept both hands on the wheel, knuckles pale against the leather.
"So," he said carefully, "Levi having a crush is... um... quite a sight."
I laughed. "Yeah. I hope he knows what he's doing and doesn't end up hurting him. But I know Levi. He's a good guy."
"Yeah," he replied. "I'm something of an expert now in what not to do to avoid hurting your significant other, so I might help."
I stayed silent, so he went on.
"I see myself in the way Levi's acting," he said quietly.
"I remember seeing you and being instantly smitten.
I couldn't stop smiling all day—I didn't even make it a few hours before I texted you, trying to plan a date.
" He exhaled softly. "You were gorgeous next to that bike. Those eyes. That smile."
He paused. "But I wasn't emotionally ready for what came after. All I really understood then was how beautiful you were, and how completely drawn to you I felt."
He swallowed. "I wish I'd started therapy sooner. Maybe then I would've been worthy of you. Maybe I would've understood my feelings instead of being overwhelmed by them. Therapy is... helping. More than I ever expected."
He paused, careful now. "I'm learning how to name things instead of just reacting to them. I'm learning about my past about being a teenager without a home, about surviving instead of growing. About how I've been confusing urgency with intimacy."
He took a breath. "About you. About how I should have protected you, not reached for you and about how healthy our relationship was... and how foreign that felt to me."
I swallowed. He kept looking ahead.
"Nothing justifies being with you before I was ready," he went on. "I won't ask you for a chance until this mess is out of our lives. But know this, I'll wait. I know who I want. I know what I want."
His voice wavered, just slightly. "It's strange to feel that kind of certainty. It came late. After I'd already hurt you. I know I've said this already, but I'm sorry, Berrie," he said finally. His voice was steady. "For all the pain I caused you."
I stared out the window, watched a row of bare trees pass like thoughts I didn't want to finish. The car slowed at a red light.
"Are you in therapy, Berrie?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Maybe in the future."
I didn't say I can't afford it. I just let the thought sit quietly inside me.
"Okay," he said gently. "It might help."
"Yeah. I know I need it. Thanks for adding more to my trauma."
The words landed between us like broken glass. He flinched and I immediately regretted them. "Damn it. I'm sorry, Arlo."
"No," he said softly. "You're right. I did." He exhaled. "And I'm truly sorry. I want you to say what is on your mind and how you feel. Don't worry about hurting me. I already lost you."
"I'm just... exhausted," I said. "I'm hurt. I'm tired of being the almost. The option. The afterthought." My hands were trembling, so I folded them together to keep them still.
He nodded, jaw tight, "Then let me earn it," he said. "Let me in when you're ready. Let me bury the parts of me that hurt you." He glanced at me, eyes steady, unflinching. "I'm fixing myself so I never put you in that position again. Tell me anything and everything you need. I'll be there."
"I want to be chosen and loved," I said quietly.
He inhaled, then asked softly, "Let me ask you something. If I wanted Lyra... why wouldn't I be with her now?" He shook his head. "She made it clear she wants me. So why am I here?"
He met my eyes.
"Because I love you. It's that simple. I mistook my need for Lyra at a very vulnerable time for love. But I can see now that it was manipulation. I know that now." His voice faltered. "I just wish I'd known it before I hurt you."
He swallowed and went on, "You're a good person, Berrie. I've always known that. I see it in the way you treat people, the way you choose charities, the way you give even when you don't have enough yourself. You have a huge heart and I'm sorry I broke it."
"Not that huge," I said bitterly. "I fucking hate Lyra. I'm just sorry for that baby for having that bitch as a mother."
I expected him to flinch. To look shocked. Instead, he smirked, just slightly. "Yeah," he said. "You are not wrong."
We finally arrived at his shop. I immediately noticed my bike near the back, elevated on its stand. The paint gleamed and the chain shone. The seat looked new and the grips were wrapped in clean leather.
"I spent the last few days on it," he said.
I got out of the car and stepped closer, my fingers following the familiar line of the frame. That was when I saw it, near the joint beneath the seat, where you'd only notice if you were already looking carefully. An etching.
It was my eyes drawn with the tentative precision of someone still learning how to see. Around them, ivy leaves curved and paused, never closing the circle.
"I've been practicing," he said quietly. "Eyes are... hard."
His gaze hung on mine, like he couldn't look away.
"Your eyes are straight-up mesmerizing," he said, almost surprised. "They're beautiful as hell because they've been through pain but still stay soft. There's this kindness in them that didn't get wrecked, even after everything. That's rare. It's got me hooked."
He paused.
"That's why ivy clicked for me. It grows over rock through cold and crap seasons and sticks to what it loves. It stays green no matter what."
His voice got warmer, eyes on mine.
"That's you. Loving, kind, still fresh after it all.
Those eyes are so gorgeous I can't get enough of looking at them.
I swear, I'll make it my life's mission to have you look at me again with that trust and love you had before I ruined everything.
I'll spend my whole life trying, if you'll just let me. "
I didn't answer. I stood there longer than I meant to, afraid that if I spoke, the moment might turn into hope, and hope is a scary thing.
So I stayed silent, then he added, "I ... thought maybe, when you're ready, we could go for a ride. Together."
I stiffened, the memory of the crash knotting in my stomach. My legs wanted to run, or fold under me, anything but mount that seat again.
"I...I don't know if I can," I whispered, the words heavier than I intended.
He nodded, slow and patient. "I get that. I mean, I know you don't just get back on after what happened. But you won't have to do it alone. Not if you don't want to."
"I'm scared," I admitted, the word trembling but real.
"Then we'll be scared together," he said, his smile quiet, steady. "We'll start slow. Just a block, maybe two, and if it's too much, we stop. Promise."
I studied the etched eyes again, the ivy curling gently around them, leaving space.
"Okay," I said finally. My voice was small, but it carried a flicker of something that had been missing for a long time. "Maybe... we can try."