Chapter Seven #3
“Why is this . . . seeing you . . . talking to you so hard?” She says the words to my chest, her eyes still not rising to mine.
I know that it’s better this way—if she thinks I’m disingenuous and angry—but the question feels like another punch to the gut. I sigh, and her gaze hooks on my mouth. Finally, she meets my gaze. There she is. My breathing accelerates; my hands clench into fists. “You don’t owe me anything, Ivy.”
I don’t want to bring up her brother or Mina yet. I think if I told Ivy what really happened that Christmas now, I’d collapse on the sidewalk from the pain of it.
She sniffs slightly and turns her head to look across the sea of people celebrating the holidays surrounding us. “Haven’t ice skated since.” With this confession, she turns back to me and shrugs, knocking the heels of her boots together.
I will myself not to make any sudden movements that would steal from me the sudden revelation that, perhaps like me, Ivy has never fully moved on.
I was a hollow version of myself when Jenna came along, trying to forget instead of heal.
I’d given in to the idea that I was only my appearance and only my profession.
I hid my reading glasses and stopped enjoying fiction books, replacing my favorites with leadership titles.
I only listened to classical music and musicals in my car.
I stopped eating carbs. In short, I was miserable. And it was never enough.
“Let’s get this over with,” she says dejectedly as she steps into the crowd once more.
We round a corner, the exit finally in sight. A man with a great voice is on a stage, singing Christmas carols, a band behind him. Ivy stills. I freeze behind her, my frame covering her, protecting her from the chilly wind whipping through and the crowd’s prying eyes.
She repositions herself to face me, lifting her chin to look into my eyes.
I tilt my head down to get closer. It hits me with full force that she has no idea I tried to find her or that her brother knows about my search.
He’s the one who told me to stay away. I don’t want to start any conflict with her family.
Jenna tried to start rumors within my family when we were together, and it was a nightmare.
But I owe her more of the truth. She deserves that much from me. I decide to start with the night I wasn’t there for her. “I tried to get to you that night, but my sister, Mina . . .” I begin, and the emotion chokes me.
Ivy’s brows lift. “The one I met over the phone?”
I’m shocked that she remembers the conversation, but it’s also a beautiful realization that Mina talked to her at all.
“Yeah.” I swallow and gather my courage.
“Edgar called me when I was on my way to meet you again. Mina had been in a car accident. She didn’t have much time left.
I was told to get to the hospital as soon as possible. ”
Ivy’s sharp inhale loosens some of the grief I’ve buried.
“By the time I got there, she was gone. And after that, things just sort of . . . fell apart.”
Her mittened hands covering her mouth, a tear falls down Ivy’s cheek. Instinctively, I catch it with my thumb before dropping my hand back to my side.
“That’s terrible. Jace, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, it was. It is. I miss her every day.”
Ivy’s eyes drift to the carolers passing nearby. “Angie has a picture of Mina in her shop, doesn’t she?”
I nod, knowing she’s thinking of the picture of Angie and Mina when they were teenagers, taken out near the ocean, a lighthouse behind them as they wear bibs on a picnic bench and hold up bright-red lobsters.
“That’s Mina.” I grin sadly, the memory enough to remind me that not everything in the world used to feel so heavy.
“She’s beautiful.” The way Ivy doesn’t use the past tense to refer to my sister endears me even more to her.
“So, that’s why I wasn’t there.” My voice is quiet, sounding almost like it’s coming from outside of myself.
“Losing her must’ve been—must be—really hard. It sounds like you’ve lost so much, Jace. And I’m really sorry for that.”
She’s giving me a look of empathy mixed with uncertainty.
Now, she knows why I wasn’t there for her.
She doesn’t yet know the lengths I went to find her.
But I don’t feel like I can rat out her brother for something I probably would’ve done too if someone hadn’t shown up for Angie.
After all, I hadn’t even had the chance to tell him about Mina’s passing that day at the cookie shop.
To him, I was just the loser who’d disappointed his sister.
And I was too tired at the time to fight his opinion of me.
“Jace, I . . .” Ivy’s voice breaks the silence, something softer within her tone. “I know you’re not here for very long, but . . . would you . . . I mean, would you want to try to get to know each other again—or rather, for the first time—while you’re here?”
Incredulously, I stare at her. Is it possible that she just said what I heard her say?
Her question adds a weighted vest to my chest. I want to give in to her hot-chocolate eyes, her voice laced with compassion, her expression—tentative but hopeful.
The emotion builds toward the backs of my eyes, and I scrunch my nose.
The idea of starting over and leaving everything behind is more appealing by the second.
Because facing my past and this woman is already proving to be agony.
I want to be near her. But the truth of what that would mean for me feels like my heart is about to enter a twelve-round championship match in a ring.
She lifts her chin a little higher, giving me a perfect glimpse of her cheekbones, the curve of her mouth, and the slope of her neck under the turtleneck.
I have a lot of love to give, but it’s trapped beneath my hands.
I’m scared to touch her again, never mind to love her.
I may have grown over the years, but for this battle, I’m not yet strong enough.
I’ve come a long way since Jenna. I’ve developed as a dad, as a trainer, and as a woodworker. But I’m stuck. My love life is on the floor of the ring, with one count remaining before I tap out. The last thing I want to do is disappoint her again.
Her eyes search my face, trailing deliciously over every feature.
I would be self-conscious, but the heat in her gaze has burned it away.
Even if I shouldn’t allow her in, I want her to see me.
I want her to know me. If I had one Christmas wish, it would be that she would have the chance to know me like no one else ever has.
But I’m just not strong enough to risk my heart yet.
“I’m sorry, Ivy. But you shouldn’t hope for anything.”
Ivy steps away from me, a fiery determination replacing the softness in her eyes. “You know, Jace, all those years ago, I thought I might have found someone special. I should’ve known better than to expect a Christmas miracle.”
With that, she spins around, and her red coat disappears through the exit. I’m left behind, the noise of the village adding to the loneliness that I’ve gifted to myself.
Even with the added clarity of Ivy’s opinion of me, her presence at this unexpected meeting and unexpected confession was enough to crack something in my ribs like a glow stick.
I realize that I’ve never before had to prove myself to her.
When we flirted, shared, and hoped in those few hours we experienced together, it came as naturally to me as anything else.
As I walk back to Angie’s with tinsel somehow stuck to my coat, the urge to begin reading a new fantasy series that’s still in its plastic wrap on my bookshelf at home consumes me.
It may not be much, but it’s a stirring of the version of me I used to like.
It’s a line of piped frosting on a plain gingerbread man, indicating it’s nowhere near finished but more complete than when I arrived.