Chapter 8
IVY
His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, his breaths even and calm. His fingers traced lazy circles on my shoulder as he held me close, and I tried to memorize the pattern, the pressure, the warmth of his skin against mine.
Something I didn't want to end.
"You're thinking too loud," Eric murmured.
I tilted my head to look at him. "How do you know I'm thinking at all?"
"I'd like to think I know you, and your breathing changed." His hand moved to cup my face. "What's going on in that head?"
You left me. You broke me. What if you do it again? You say you won't, but I've heard that before.
"Nothing." I pressed closer. "Just... this is surreal."
"Good surreal or bad surreal?"
"Jury's still out."
He kissed the top of my head, and something in my chest squeezed. I wanted to hold onto this moment, bottle it up and keep it safe. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be real. That he meant what he said about staying.
But I'd believed him before.
"I understand why you left," I whispered as I nuzzled into him more. "Your brother died. You had responsibilities. I get it, Eric. I do."
"But?"
"But it doesn't mean it didn't destroy me.
" I closed my eyes. "My life was never a walk in the park, but I felt like I was getting a handle on things.
Like everything was going to be okay. And then you vanished.
One text and my world shattered. Maybe I'd put too much importance on you in my life, hoped too much for something good.
Thought it was going to become more." I swallowed hard. "And then you were gone."
Eric's arms tightened around me. "Ivy—"
"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty." I wasn't. Not really. "I just need you to understand that this—" I gestured vaguely between us "isn't easy for me. Being here with you, letting you back in even a little bit, it's terrifying."
"I know." His voice was tight. "If I could go back and do it differently—"
"You can't." I looked up at him. "So what happens now?"
"Now..." He brushed his thumb across my cheekbone. "Now I'm here. For as long as you'll let me be."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.
Instead, I let myself sink into his warmth, let the steady rhythm of his breathing lull me. Tomorrow I could be smart. Tomorrow I could protect myself.
Tonight, I just wanted to feel safe. To enjoy the false comfort of his arms, the false hope that he wouldn't abandon me again.
My eyes drifted closed, and the last thing I felt was Eric's lips against my forehead.
I woke to an empty bed.
For a moment, I just stared at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the vacant spot beside me. Refusing to feel the hollow ache spreading through my chest.
Then I heard it. Low voices from the living room.
No. Not voices.
One voice.
Eric's.
I slipped out of bed, pulled on my robe, and padded silently to the doorway. He stood by my window, phone pressed to his ear, speaking in hushed tones I couldn't quite make out.
My stomach dropped.
Of course. Of course there was someone else. Of course last night had been a mistake. Four years was a long time. He'd probably moved on, probably had a whole life I knew nothing about, and I'd just—
Eric turned and saw me. His expression shifted, something I couldn't read flickering across his face. He nodded once and ended the call.
"I have to go," he said into the phone. "We'll discuss this later."
He pocketed his phone and crossed to me, but I stepped back.
"Who was that?" There was no hiding the distrust in my voice.
"Work."
"At five in the morning?" I arched a brow.
"Construction starts early." He reached for me, but I crossed my arms. "Ivy—"
"Right. Construction." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my tone. "I forgot about your very legitimate, very demanding construction business that requires secret phone calls before dawn."
His jaw tightened. "It wasn't a secret phone call. I run the business now. I need to take all the calls."
"Then what was it about?"
"Permits. Import regulations. Boring shit you don't want to hear about at five in the morning."
I studied his face, looking for the lie. But Eric had always been good at keeping his expressions neutral when he wanted to.
"So you're leaving now." It wasn't a question.
His brow furrowed. "What?"
"You got what you wanted. Had your fun. Now you've got work to do, so—"
"Ivy." He closed the distance between us, hands gentle on my shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere."
I hated how much I wanted to believe that. Hated the hope that flickered to life despite my best efforts to smother it.
I knew better. He was the reason I knew better.
"You were on the phone."
"Yes."
"At five in the morning."
"Yes."
"And you expect me to just—"
He kissed me. Soft, slow, and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"Come back to bed," he murmured. "Let me hold you."
"Eric—"
"Please." His thumb traced my jaw. "I know you don't trust me. I know I have to earn that back. But right now, can we just... can we go back to bed? Let me hold you for a few more hours before the world wakes up?"
The fight drained out of me. I was so tired. Tired of being angry, tired of protecting myself, tired of pretending I didn't want exactly what he was offering.
"Okay."
He led me back to the bedroom, and I let him pull me close under the covers. His body curved around mine, solid and warm, one arm draped across my waist.
"I'm here," he whispered against my neck. "I'm right here."
I laced my fingers through his, holding on tighter than I should.
My mind was a war zone. Hope battling fear, want clashing with self-preservation. Every instinct screamed at me to pull away, to protect myself before he had the chance to leave again.
But I was never good at making the right decisions for myself. Quite the opposite, in fact.
His heartbeat was steady against my back, and his breath was warm on my skin, so maybe, just maybe...
I fell asleep to the rhythm of his breathing, still fighting myself.
The second time I woke, I was alone. Again.
The sheets beside me were cold. No warmth lingering, no indent in the pillow.
He was gone.
God, I'm so fucking dumb.
The realization hurt, stealing the air from my lungs. I sat up too fast, the room tilting slightly as fury and hurt twisted together in my chest.
Of course. Of course he'd left. What had I expected? That one night would change anything? That his promises meant something this time?
I was an idiot. A complete and utter—
My bedroom door opened.
Eric stood in the doorway, holding a paper bag and a drink carrier with two coffee cups.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"You're awake." He stepped inside, setting the bag and coffees on my nightstand. "I was trying to be quiet. To get back before you woke up. I didn't want you thinking I left."
"Right." It was hard to keep the hurt from my voice, although I was relieved.
He hadn't just abandoned me again. Used me for one last night of fun and run off from my life.
I took some comfort in that.
His expression softened. "I went to get breakfast."
"Why? There's food here."
"Ivy, if you class stale bread and cereal as breakfast, then…" He clucked his tongue, and I rolled my eyes.
"Fine, I do need to do groceries," I muttered.
He gestured to the bag. "There's a place two blocks over that makes incredible bagels. I got you everything bagel with cream cheese and lox because I remember that used to be your favorite, but I also got plain with strawberry in case your tastes changed."
I just stared at him, my brain struggling to catch up.
He remembered those things? Even after all this time? Why did that both upset and anger me? Was it because he took the time to learn and care but not the time to think of the pain he caused when he left the first time?
Why were men so goddamn daft sometimes?
"And coffee," he continued, picking up one of the cups. "Iced vanilla latte, extra vanilla, light ice. Though if you want something different now, I can go back—"
"Stop." I held up a hand. "Just... stop for a second."
He stopped.
I took a breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "You remembered everything I used to like."
"Yes."
"How? Why was it important enough to remember? Why did you care enough about those things but not enough to talk to me before you left?" I wasn't about to beat around the bush.
"Because I was stupid, Ivy, and I know that. I can safely admit, I'm not the brightest bulb sometimes. Especially not where you are involved," he said as he sat on the bed beside me, offering me one of those soft smiles that made me want to both kiss him and punch him.
"You had so much time to reach back out, Eric," I murmured.
"Would you have taken my call? Heard me out? Or would you have called me every name under the sun?" He gave me a knowing smile.
"Fine, maybe you're right there," I grumbled.
"You're a fiery woman and not one to be wronged.
I know that much, Ivy. But I'm trying here.
I want to prove to you it meant something, our time together," he said carefully as he took my hand.
"I wanted to take you out, actually. There's this place downtown with outdoor seating and—" He paused.
"But I also wanted to just be with you. Without the rest of the world interrupting. So I compromised."
Something in my chest loosened, but I couldn't quite let go of the fear. "Eric, what is this? What are we doing?"
"Eating breakfast?"
"You know what I mean." I pulled my knees to my chest. "What's your plan here? Show up, sleep with me, bring me bagels, and then what? You disappear again when things get complicated?"
He set the coffee down and turned to face me fully. "I don't have a plan."
"That's not reassuring."
"I know." He glanced out the window like he might find the right words hidden out there.
"I know it's not. But it's the truth. I saw you at that bar, and everything I'd been trying to bury for four years just..
. surfaced. I couldn't stop thinking about you.
Couldn't focus on anything else. That means something, I know it does. "
"Some cosmic fate, huh?" I smirked.
"Who knows." He managed a slight shrug.
"So you stalked me? Interrupted my date last night?" I arched a brow at him.
"Happy coincidence.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face.
Right. Coincidence. I didn't believe in those. Not twice.
"Right. Then you followed me home."
"You were mad and wouldn't give me a chance to talk to you.
So yes, I followed you. But then went and got flowers first. Figured I could use them to shield myself a bit if you tried to punch me.
" This time he did smile, and I rolled my eyes.
"I just needed to talk to you. To explain, even though I knew you had every right to tell me to fuck off.
" He reached for my hand again, and I let him take it.
"I've thought about you often since I left, Ivy.
Wondered if you were okay, if you hated me, if you'd moved on.
I hoped you had, honestly. Hoped you'd found someone who could give you everything I couldn't."
"I didn't," I said quietly.
"I know." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "And I'm selfish enough to be glad about that, even though I shouldn't be."
I wanted to pull my hand away. Wanted to protect myself, build walls, keep him at a distance where he couldn't hurt me again.
But his touch was familiar and warm, and the look in his eyes was so earnest it made my chest ache.
"I want to believe you," I admitted. "But I'm scared, Eric. I'm scared that I'm going to let you in and you're going to leave again, and I don't know if I can survive that twice."
"I can't promise I won't fuck this up." His voice was low but honest. "I can't promise that my life won't get complicated or that things won't get hard. But I can promise that if I have to leave, I'll tell you. I won't just disappear. And I'll come back. Whatever it takes, I'll come back."
I searched his face for the lie, for the crack that would tell me this was too good to be true.
All I saw was sincerity and hope and something that looked dangerously close to love.
"The bagels are getting cold," I said finally.
He blinked. "What?"
"You said you got bagels." I nodded toward the bag. "They're getting cold."
A slow smile spread across his face, and my heart did a stupid little flip.
"Right." He reached for the bag. "Can't have that."
He pulled out the bagels and napkins, setting them on the bed between us like we were having a picnic. The smell of fresh bagels and coffee filled my room, and despite everything, despite my fear and uncertainty, I felt something warm bloom in my chest.
This was probably a mistake.
But maybe it was a mistake worth making.