Chapter 21
Ivy
When I got to The Harmony Grove at the start of my shift and Nash asked me if there was any particular reason why one of my socks was blue and the other one was orange, it said everything about my current state of mind.
I’m pissed off, distracted, and for some stupid reason, I want to cry a little. Probably angry tears, but still.
As I triple-check that the spa room is spotless for the night—it wouldn’t surprise me if I hadn’t replaced the soaps or refilled the massage oils today—I think back on the conversation I had with Joe before I came to work.
“It was stupid, and I’m sorry,” he said, puppy-dog eyes activated. But I know my brother, and both his words and the look on his face were sincere. “I was worried about you, that’s all. I didn’t want him to kidnap you or something.”
“Oh, Jojo.” My instincts begged me to pull him into a hug, but I didn’t, knowing I had to be strict with him this time.
I won’t send him the message that I can’t take care of myself or that I need supervision.
He needs to live his life, not worry about mine.
“I understand. I really do, okay? I’ll send you my live location next time.
But there’s no need to worry about me this much.
Harmony Hills is a safe town. Plus, I kind of knew Ian from before; he works with Ford. ”
He shrugged, tapping his pen against his science notebook. “I know. It won’t happen again.”
I did give him a hug and told him that I loved him before I left for work because that’s our routine. I also promised that I wasn’t mad at him—he just needs to trust me and respect my boundaries.
As for Ford…
I take out my headphones and slide my finger across the screen to close the podcast app on my phone, then shove everything inside my bag.
As much as I try to glue the pieces of his puzzle together, they don’t fit. Nothing makes sense.
First, he tells me that I should start doing things for myself. Then, he invites me out and ignores me for most of the night. I have a feeling his mood shift had to do with Ian and his friends, but he could have said something. If something bothers him, he has a mouth he should use to communicate.
And then he stormed into Jill’s Café with my brother while I was with Ian, for no apparent reason. Joe showing up all mad and worried is one thing, but Ford is a grown adult. One who, by the way, had reassured me that he wouldn’t go all white knight on me anymore. So much for that.
I zip up my puffer jacket before I step outside into the cold. Ford might be dumb, but I’m dumber. Because if I didn’t have this stupid crush on him, I wouldn’t be so in over my head.
I don’t want to admit it. No part of me does, but the truth is that it bothered me to no end when he said he was happy that I was going on a date. That means there’s no chance he’s interested in me, and it stings to face the truth.
No, stings isn’t the right word. I’m full-on hurting. My heart has been aching in a weird way since it happened, and I hate myself for it.
This stupid crush is getting too real, too intense. None of this was supposed to happen. The plan was to work like a madwoman until I replenished my saving accounts, then get Joe into flight school without assistance from our aunt—that’s it.
But now…
Now, as I step into the parking lot, I come to a halt.
There’s a tall, muscular figure standing by my car. A figure I would recognize anywhere.
Ford’s eyes meet mine across the parking lot, and I curse my traitor heart for reacting to him.
A part of me is still resentful, angry at him for acting like a child and confusing my feelings even further with actions that don’t match his words. Yet another, bigger part of me can’t stand being angry at someone I care about.
“It’s past midnight,” I tell him, my voice neutral, ignoring the goose bumps on my skin that have nothing to do with the cold. “Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“That’s not important right now.”
A shaky breath. “Ford.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, stepping closer but still leaving enough space between us. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
A shiver climbs up my spine, and he notices. He always notices everything about me.
“Can we talk in my car? I don’t want you getting sick.”
There he goes, putting me first again. And there goes my heart, too, aching for him.
No. He just wants to talk without me getting pneumonia. That’s what any decent human being would do.
Too tired to argue, but also intrigued by what he has to say, I follow him to the back seat of his car. He’s parked next to me.
I can barely feel my hands from the cold as he climbs inside after me and shuts the door.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, turning in my direction. “What I did was childish. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of Ian.”
“Yeah, it was childish,” I tell him, looking him in the eye. There’s no point in saying it’s fine when it’s not. “Joe told me it had been his idea, but I don’t understand why you went along with it when you were the one to encourage me to go out with Ian.”
My words make him wince. “I did say that.”
“Loud and clear.”
He runs a hand down his face, looking exhausted. “I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
“I was jealous.”
It feels like there are cotton balls stuck in my throat, and I can’t speak. Not that I have to, because he keeps going.
“I saw you with Ian, laughing with him, having a good time, and I couldn’t take it.” His tone is somber, his gaze lost somewhere in the space between us. “You’re right to say it was childish because it was. I’m deeply embarrassed, and I’m sorry for ruining your date.”
My head and my heart are shouting in different directions. One wants me to admit the truth once and for all and face the consequences, while the other wants to keep me in the safe zone. Where Ford’s rejection can’t hurt me.
But then I remember he was right all that time ago—I’m not living for myself. I’m not taking risks. I’m not going after what makes me happy. After who makes me happy.
Because the man I want is right in front of me, and I’ve been too cowardly to tell him.
“What you did was dumb, but you didn’t ruin anything.” My voice comes out raspy, as if I haven’t used it in a long time. His dark eyes lock with mine. “Ian is a great guy, but I don’t want to go on any more dates with him.”
“You don’t?”
“It wouldn’t be fair when I have feelings for someone else.”
He shuts his eyes. “Ivy….”
“The first time I met him, I told him he smelled,” I continue, a little out of breath.
I don’t think there’s enough oxygen in this car for both of us anymore.
“He didn’t like me that much back then because he thought I was flirting with him.
I wasn’t, but weeks later, I started having these…
these feelings. Confusing ones, but they made me feel good.
He makes me feel good. The thing is, he doesn’t want a relationship.
He got burned in the past and doesn’t want to try again, and I get that.
I wasn’t going to say anything because I respect his boundaries, and also because I knew his rejection would hurt too much.
But then he told me he got jealous when he saw me with someone else, and I don’t know what to make of that. ”
The corner of his lips twitch. “Sounds like an idiot.”
“He has his moments, but he’s pretty great.”
Ford takes a long breath through his nose. “It’s just a crush. We’re confused because we spend a lot of time together. It will fade.”
I ignore the pang of disappointment in my chest. After all, that’s what I’ve been telling myself too.
“Yeah, just a crush,” I echo. “This thing between us could never go anywhere.”
“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’m not relationship material, and you have too much important stuff going on.”
“Yeah.” I ignore my gut telling me that my words are lies. That his are too. “It’s good to be honest about our feelings, even if it’s a little awkward. Communication is key and all that.”
“Yeah, I’m glad we talked about it.”
So why do neither of us sound like we actually are?
“I should go home. It’s late,” I say after a beat of silence.
“Yeah, of course.” He scratches the back of his head. “We’re good, right? Again, I’m sorry for behaving like an idiot. It won’t happen again.”
“We’re good,” I reassure him.
The bubble we’re wrapped in, in the back seat of his car, isn’t uncomfortable. Not really. It’s just… different. Like we’re somewhere we have never been before, and neither of us know what step to take next.
“It doesn’t have to get weird between us now.” My voice comes as a whisper, breaking the silence.
“It won’t.” But he isn’t looking at me when he says it.
I ignore the way my heart falls for the millionth time today, and with one last look at Ford, I open the door. The cold air drifts through the slim space between the inside and the outside of the car for two seconds before his arm slides past my middle, and he shuts the door again.
I turn to him. “Ford?”
He’s never looked at me like this before. Like I hold the answers to questions he hasn’t asked out loud.
My breathing comes to a halt when he holds the side of my face in his hand, his thumb caressing the corner of my lips. My eyes dip to his mouth.
“I feel like I’m going insane.” His voice is charged with the same tension I’m feeling between my legs. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Maybe we should do something about it,” I say, my voice raspier than just a moment ago. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
“Yeah?”
Instead of answering with words, I brush my nose against his. He presses the pad of his thumb to my lower lip, and if I were braver, I would wrap my mouth around it and watch this whole thing explode.
“Just this once,” I whisper.
“Just once,” he echoes.
“To get this crush out of our systems.”
We drift closer, the windows of his car fogging with the tension neither of us is brave enough to break.