22. Ivy #2
Tears stream down her face, and I’m not entirely sure if she’s comprehending this conversation right now.
But I do. It gives me back some of my power, reminding me of who I am.
What I’m capable of. I can’t believe I even hung out with someone like this for so many years. Sometimes it’s fun until it’s not.
I stride out of the cafe and decide to go for a walk. I’m close to Hope’s studio, and though she doesn’t usually like visitors, I’m one of a few she’ll allow in. Not that I intrude on her often. I just need a real friend right now. To remind myself of how blessed I am.
But first, I pull out my phone. I bring up Hawke’s number and call him. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey, lover. I’m not against a midday booty call, but I’m working.”
“My schedule’s full.”
“The only thing you’ll be full of is my cock… as soon as you start replying to my messages,” he says, and I smirk at his attempt to try and banter with me.
“I’ve been preoccupied. Lester…” I trail off.
I’ve been intending to speak with Hawke about what happened with Lester because I’m not someone who wants to be left out about the details.
I’m not a damsel in distress, and I’ve seen some shit before.
But I’d wanted to confront Makayla first. Now that I have, I’m ready to close this chapter in my life.
Although it wasn’t my actions directly that led to this, a small amount of blood is on my hands, even if it wasn’t me who took Lester out.
I don’t think I’m capable of murder, but I understand it serves a purpose and is sometimes necessary.
Especially in the world I was raised in.
“So, no sexy time?”
“No sexy time.”
He sighs, and I hear him mumble something about busting his balls.
“I was surprised it took you this long, my little tracker,” he says.
There’s a commotion in the background, on his end of the line.
Then, what sounds like a chainsaw revving.
I have the good sense not to ask what he’s up to right now.
“Ford cut it for a moment.” I hear a scream and definitely know I shouldn’t ask questions.
“Worthless piece of shit.” Hawke laughs.
I’m not saying Hawke is innocent—the man is definitely a little unhinged—but I’ll never be able to see him differently after the night he looked after me.
“I’ve known about what you did to Lester for a few days,” I manage to say.
“So why didn’t you call me back?” he asks.
“Be careful, Hawke, you’re starting to sound needy,” I purr as I look up at the building Hope works in.
She usually starts around midday, so hopefully, she’s here.
“I just wanted to say thank you.” I didn’t think I’d ever be thanking a person for killing another person, but deep down, I’m very thankful.
“You seem to be doing a lot of that lately.”
“What?”
“Thanking me. And I haven’t even been between your legs for weeks,” the cocky asshole says. I bite the inside of my cheek. Dangerous. Very dangerous. “So, does that mean I can come over tonight?”
“Goodbye, Hawke.” I hang up with a smile as I enter the elevator. He tries to call back, but I don’t answer.
I knock on Hope’s studio door. “Who is it?” she calls out from the other side, and there’s a bitter edge to her usual sweet tone. I smile as I open the door because I know how much she doesn’t like being disturbed.
“Sorry, I’m not a six-foot-something detective,” I say in greeting, and her demeanor changes.
“I wasn’t expecting you today. But I guess you’re the next best thing.”
She’s sitting in her usual seat, dressed in overalls, with clay everywhere.
She goes to the sink to wash her hands, and I take the opportunity to appreciate her space.
A water fountain gurgles in the center of the room, classical music plays in the background, and tons of natural light pours through the skylights.
I begin touching things I probably shouldn’t be touching, but she says nothing.
When I turn around to face her, she pulls me in for a hug.
I’m surprised, but I wrap my arms around her.
She’s the shortest out of us, and I’ve always looked at her more like a little sister and best friend combined in an awesome bundle.
But Hope isn’t a very affectionate person; none of us really are.
This is just what I needed to remind me what good friends I have. Billie is currently on a business trip, but when she gets back, I plan on having one of our girls’ nights.
Hope and Hawke are very close, and Hawke has a problem with keeping secrets. Dread immediately runs through me. Does she already know?
“What has he said?” I ask carefully.
“He didn’t say anything, but I heard he went on a little rampage, beating a guy almost to death at some party you were at. I assumed he went to stir up shit. Sorry, you have to deal with my crazy cousin.”
I sigh in relief, although I feel bad that Hawke has taken the brunt of it without anyone knowing the real reason behind it. It’s nice to know he’s been able to keep my secret, though.
I consider telling her, but it sits at the edge of my lips, not quite ready to come out yet. I don’t know why I don’t want to talk about it; it’s not like anything actually happened, but I feel stupid. I can’t believe I put myself in that situation, and I don’t want to worry her.
“He’s not all that bad,” I say as I check out her recent work. Hope’s beyond talented, and I know the public image and pressure get to her.
“It’s his redeeming quality,” she jokes. “Did something happen with you two that night?”
Images of him looking after me come to mind, but I find myself saying, “He wishes.”
She brings me a cup of herbal tea. Not my usual go-to, but okay, seems like the day for it with the sun spilling in and serene music playing. “I’m just waiting for the day that it all clicks into place for you two.”
I laugh because Hope has always said things like that about us. I wonder if there’s something I’m not seeing that she does. “What makes you say that?”
She shrugs as she takes a sip of her tea. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to see you two flirting, but I think you’ll put him in his place. And we all know Hawke needs that.”
True.
“And what do I get out of it?” I ask.
She looks at me then, those beautiful blue eyes striking against her vibrant red hair. “Someone to keep you on your toes so you don’t get bored.”
“Maybe,” I say thoughtfully. No one would be surprised. My father might have a heart attack, though. But I’m not even sure if someone like Hawke is capable of a relationship. Besides, it’s a little presumptuous.
“But if you start getting bored, you can come out for dinner with me and my detective.” She waggles her brows.
“That sounds awful,” I whisper in mock horror because third wheeling is not my idea of fun.
“You know you want to,” she teases, and I can’t help but sit on the floor cross-legged beside her despite there being another stool. I just want to appreciate what I have and who I have. And it’s nice to see Hope living out a happily ever after… in her own little morbid way.