Chapter Fifteen #2
Ivy’s laughter rings through the brisk air. “Maybe he’ll sign something for you if you ask nicely.”
“I’m not famous,” I retort.
Ivy only shrugs, those red lips of hers still tugged up in a grin. I want to kiss her just to see if the color is a stain or if it would transfer to me. But of course, I wouldn’t—shouldn’t—do that in front of my daughter. At least, not yet.
Emmy is now giggling uncontrollably, picking up on the playfulness between Ivy and these High School Musical-looking teenagers.
“So, you two are together?” a kid with the most annoying haircut of them all asks us.
“Well, I . . .” Ivy stumbles.
“That’s not your business,” I answer sharply, the Grinch in me immediately agitated by the question.
“You’re right, sir.”
Sighing as Ivy gently touches my arm, an idea of how to wrangle these hooligans comes to me.
I’ve dealt with plenty of their type as a boxing instructor over the years, but I think I know how to break the ice with them.
“Boys, I could use help building some sets for an upcoming dance performance.” One of the teenagers snickers as the other elbows him in the ribs.
I continue, “Miss Ivy, here, is the dance studio owner.”
Immediately, the boys straighten up.
“Are you dancers?” Emmy asks them, one of her eyebrows lifted in skepticism.
“Uh . . . no, but we can build things.” One of the boys steps up, joining the conversation and looking at Ivy like she hung the moon. I know the feeling. “Right, guys? We. Can. Build. Things.”
“Yeah.”
“Yep.”
“Sure.”
I chuckle and try to cover it with a cough.
Oh, to be young again and trying to impress a pretty woman.
Who am I kidding? I’m doing that. Except that I remember I’m now a man—a very tall man whose arms and limbs are proportionate to the rest of my body.
And Ivy is here with me, with us. Lifting Emmy into my arms, I gather my boldness and wrap an arm around the woman next to me.
To my shock and delight, she nestles in.
The fact that she responds to my touch and doesn’t pull away thrills me.
Even though we’ve got layers of winter coats between us, the side of me that is touching her is instantly on fire.
The teenagers shove sleds toward us, the three of them standing at attention. “Sir, sleds are on the house,” the one called Ryan informs me quickly.
“Good choice,” I say, allowing a level of faux intimidation in my voice.
“Meet me at Wicked Good Farms, at the red barn, tomorrow night at five o’clock sharp.
Wear clothes you don’t mind getting ruined.
” They won’t be doing anything to ruin their clothes, but I can’t help but throw the command out there.
I am rewarded with their wide-eyed stares and shaky nods.
“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate your help,” Ivy adds sweetly, the honey to my vinegar.
Their nods make their heads resemble tiny bobblehead toys. I’m sure that’s why Emmy giggles. Ivy pulls at my coat, and I follow her a few steps away, noticing how her shoulders are shaking with laughter as well.
“Well, that’s one way to get the help we need,” she quips.
“Eh.” I shrug. “I remember being that age. They need a job. They’re helping the community. They’re getting experience. And conveniently, they’re starting their lifelong journey of trying to impress a woman way out of their league.”
“And you get to babysit them,” Ivy says with a grin.
We shuffle through the snow toward the line to sled downhill, and Emmy exclaims, “Daddy can show them how to make a box! He built me a box with stars.”
At this, Ivy slows her pace. “A box with stars?”
“Uh-huh.” Emmy shifts in my arms to look more fully at Ivy. “Last Christmas. It’s to hold my dreams.”
Under Ivy’s knowing gaze, my throat feels tight.
I will my feet to move forward until we reach the top of the hill, where Emmy and I nestle together on one sled.
Ivy settles on the other. An image of the three of us floats through my mind, and I think of what it would feel like to wrap my arms around Ivy on our own sled while Emmy laughs all the way down the hill, snow flying in our faces.
I shake my head to dissolve the image and let Emmy call out our countdown.
“Three, two, go!” she yells, and I push off.
With a rush, the wind in our face is so strong that I feel snow fly up my nose, pummeling my teeth.
Emmy’s happiness is worth it as we shoot down the hill until I put my boots down and pull us to a stop.
Ivy slides to a stop only a few seconds behind us.
I’m surprised she caught up so fast, given that there’s all my weight on one sled and only her tiny frame in the other.
“Ahh!” Ivy yells happily, her arms raised in the air. Eyes bright, she looks at us, and a smile lights her face, snow clinging to the top of her beanie and the end of her braid. She looks beautiful. “Again! Again!” she cries.
I shake my head in affirmation, trying to hold back how overwhelmingly good it feels to just have fun. When was the last time I had fun with someone who wasn’t family? Not family . . . yet. My mind inserts the thought sneakily, and I once again shake it away. It keeps doing that.
Ivy leaps up, dragging the sled behind her and running back up the snowy hill.
Emmy takes off after Ivy, and after watching them for a few seconds, I rise and follow.
The two of them decide to go down the hill together a few more times, screaming when they can’t seem to beat me.
I end up sitting out a few rounds, letting them go again and again, waiting off to the side at the top of the slope.
I’m shocked they aren’t exhausted after another few excursions down the hill.
I’m still watching them when Edgar appears, climbing slowly up the slope.
“Hey, man.” He walks over to me and clasps my shoulder, his arm stretching up slightly. I am the taller one, after all.
“Uh, hi.” My neck and shoulders feel tight under his fingers.
I wasn’t expecting to see him here tonight.
Now, he’ll know I invited Ivy to sled with us.
I’m not nervous that he’ll do anything intentionally to sabotage me, but integrating Ivy into more of my world feels like it’s still too good to be true, so I’ll admit I’m nervous.
“Eddie!” Emmy yells, she and Ivy cresting the top of the hill again. I laugh as Edgar shoots me a glare. I encourage her to call him that, sans “uncle” on top of it, and he hates it.
“This isn’t over,” he says quietly. I think the words are meant to be threatening, but he’s too soft for my daughter to care as she runs toward him.
“Eddie! Eddie!”
“Fine,” he says, shoulders sagging as he runs to pick her up. He grabs my neglected sled and walks with her to the launching point.
Ivy lingers at the top of the hill with me, tentatively stepping forward until she’s standing beside me.
She peeks up and sighs contentedly, the sound of it a warm compress on my muscles.
There’s a height difference between us—a great one—but everyone tends to be shorter than me, so I’ve been training my whole life to dip my chin for her to make eye contact now.
She could be six feet tall, and I’d be drawn to her no matter what.
Ivy’s soul shines through everything she does, and she just happens to also come in the most stunning form I’ve ever seen.
“You’ve been keeping your distance,” she breaks our silence as we watch Edgar and Emmy join the line of people waiting to take their turn. Her gaze is full of nothing but a question and a hint of playfulness.
“Well, there have been children present in every circumstance tonight,” I reply dryly.
Ivy laughs and swings her arms slightly as if she’s either choreographing another ballet or warming up for the next run on the sled.
“True, but I meant with your thoughts. Remember that one time you poured out your heart to me over cookies and hot chocolate . . . Oh, wait, you were drinking coffee like a madman into the late evening.” Her grin fades, her eyes softening as they roam over my face.
“I’d like to get back to that place again. ”
I nod. She’s right. When I first came back to Birch Borough, I let the gruffness I’ve cultivated for years—that protective armor—slip through in my interactions around town.
I’ve felt my defenses cracking, warmth entering my chilled heart again.
But admittedly, I’m afraid to let Ivy, of all people, see all of me at this stage in my life.
I want to tell her the whole truth about Jenna.
Tell her of all the ways I’ve thought about her over the past eight years.
Because I never forgot that she was the dream that got away.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, well, I have a lot of fires in my head that I need to put out at the moment.”
Ivy shrugs. “Sounds like a lonely job. Maybe you don’t have to be alone to do it, though?” Her voice hums, the words settling between us, and the effects of her smoky tones pierce my heart.
I struggle to respond, but instead of pushing me, Ivy tilts her head and pretends to look for something near my feet. An alarm clock blares from the makeshift sledding shed with the teenage boys we met earlier, signaling another hour. The afternoon has progressed with ease.
“We’d better get going soon,” I say, allowing regret to enter my voice so she knows I’m not running away from our conversation.
“Hmm, looks like you’re without a sled, though,” she says with a wink.
“I am.”
“How are you going to get down the hill? It’s a long walk.” The corner of her mouth, still wrapped in red lipstick, twitches, and I suddenly think that the expression is a nervous tell, if I had to guess.
“Oh, well, I could just roll. Stop, drop, and all that.” I want to punch myself in the face at the evidence of how much game I don’t have with that statement.
Ivy giggles. “Or you could go by sled . . .” she trails off.
“But I don’t have—” I stop when I see her push the edge of her sled forward slightly. Oh . . . Oh. Is she asking us to go together?
“There is one way we could get down there at the same time, I guess.” I point toward the bottom of the slope, where Edgar and Emmy are already waiting at the hot chocolate stand by the rink.
“I thought there might be.”
I rub the back of my neck with my snow-wet gloves and wince. Ivy reaches out a mittened hand, snow stacked on the knitwear in clumps. I take her small fingers in my own gloved hand, the feeling of how easily they are swallowed by my palm something I want to both protect and remember.
Ivy tosses the sled onto the snow, her tongue peeking out between her teeth in concentration, and waits.
“I’ll, uh—I’ll just get in first,” I finally stutter.
And even though I’ve done this dozens of times with Emmy, I’m self-conscious.
I feel too big for the sled. What do I do with my arms and legs?
I settle on the sled and decide to just wait, my arms extending slightly off the edges and my heels tucked into the curve at the front of the sled.
Above me, Ivy inhales and then slowly turns to settle in front of me.
She crosses her legs in front of her, the tops of her knees peeking over the edges of the sled.
Several inches of space remain between us, but I’m still frozen at the light scent of vanilla hovering just under my nose from her hair.
Ivy. My heart thumps in my chest, and I remember again how to be myself.
It’s her, the woman I’ve wanted to return to me for ages.
The awkwardness and tension leave my body at the feeling of her being this close to me.
Drawing my shoulders back, I wrap an arm around her waist. I pull her toward me slightly until her back is resting against my chest. Immediately sinking into me, she leans her head back against my collarbone and hums. My smile would be enough to power us down the hill, but I make sure she’s okay with this arrangement, just in case. I can’t afford to miss any cues.
“Is this okay?” I whisper into her ear, and she shivers.
“Yes, Jace,” she says with a deep breath between the words. “Because I know I’m safe with you.”
The trust she’s placed in me nearly wipes me out. But she’s right to believe that I’d do anything to cover and protect her. Anything in my power.
“You are.” I pull her against me even tighter and allow myself to breathe deeply, attempting to convince myself that I have what it takes not to let her down. “Count us off, Starlight.”
She laughs. “One, two, go!”
And it’s Ivy’s laughter mixed with my own as we fly through the air off the slope that brings me closer than ever to believing that brokenness and loss might not be the end of our story after all.