Chapter 9
Ivy
The rumble of the truck makes the window glass vibrate just enough to pull me away from stacking the last of the plates as I unload the dishwasher. I glance up, and Junie’s messy little head pops into view over the couch, cheeks squished against the glass.
“Dad brought the trailer around,” she announces like she’s breaking some very big news.
I wipe my hands on my leggings and meet her at the door, feeling curious. “The trailer?”
“Yeah,” she says, eyes wide with curiosity as she watches out the window. “Come on. Let’s go see.”
I shrug into my coat, following her, sliding my arms through too fast, and shove my feet into my boots.
Junie’s already hopping from foot to foot like she’s waiting for the starter pistol at a race.
When I open the front door, the cold air blasts against my cheeks, and there’s Remy standing at the end of the porch steps, gloves on, coat unzipped just enough to show the flannel underneath.
The wind teases his hair, and he looks…determined.
Junie bounces down the steps first. “Are we going to get the tree today?” She asks, looking hopeful.
He shakes his head once, gaze locked on me like I’m the only one in a three-mile radius. “Not today. Right now, we have something very important to take care of, and I need your help.”
Her little shoulders drop in a disappointed sigh. “Like what?”
“We’re going to get Ivy’s things,” he says, looking at me, his voice low but edged in steel. “Remember when I told you we don’t let people hurt and steal from others? We’re going to get Ivy’s dog and her stuff back.”
Oh, shit. He’s joking.
Remy turns again to look at me, his gaze meeting mine with a look in his eye that is possessive and determined. “Get ready. We’re going.”
The way he says it, with hesitation or room for argument, hits somewhere deep. It makes me forget to breathe for half a second.
“Remy, you don’t have to—” I start to object. I don’t want to be Remy’s charity case. I feel like he’s done enough giving me a job, and if I push it, he might not keep me around. Derek sure didn’t.
“We’re going.” He tips his chin toward the truck like that’s the end. “Boots, coat, whatever else you need. We’re leaving in five. Let’s roll out.”
The flutter in my chest is ridiculous. I’m used to men like Derek, who are manipulative, who make me feel like asking for help is some kind of weakness.
I had to practically beg for anything I needed or do it myself.
But Remy doesn’t ask. He just…handles it.
Like he’s going to make things right and take care of everyone around him.
And there’s no room for negotiation. He just says it, and we do it.
And…I like it. It’s really hot. Next to Junie, Remy might just be becoming my favorite person in the world.
I am obviously not his, but I think everyone who knows Remy knows that deep down he’s a good man. And a great dad to Junie.
Junie slips her hand into mine and beams up at me as we walk back into the house. “See? Told you my dad likes you.”
I laugh under my breath, but my pulse is still thundering as I head to get ready, realizing five minutes is not enough time. “Brush your teeth,” I call to Junie and quickly get ready. Remy is a man of surprises, and I’m scared for this one but thrilled. I want my dog back.
Holy crap, I might get my dog back.
The rumble of the truck and the squeak of the trailer hitch cranks my nerves even tighter as we make our way down my street to my old townhouse.
“Are you sure you’re okay with my dog staying at your house?”
He glances over at me and says, “Will she eat my kid or pee on things?”
“No, she is a very good and sweet girl,” I promise.
“I love dogs!” Junie pipes up from the backseat with a grin. “Maybe she’ll sleep with me.”
“She loves to snuggle,” I promise Junie with a smile. But my stomach turns in knots as we pull up, and Remy puts the truck in park. I don’t want to see Derek again.
It looks like Derek has just pulled up and is checking his mail.
Black wool coat pressed sharp. Scarf knotted with precision.
Shiny black Audi parked like a mirror. He could be posing for a Boston magazine spread.
When we ease to the curb, he looks up. The smile he gives me is all teeth and no warmth. It is not a smile. It is a warning.
My stomach drops the way it does on a bad elevator.
Heat skims my face, then drains, leaving me cold under my coat.
For a second I am back in that kitchen that does not belong to me anymore, watching him slide his phone facedown, telling myself not to make a scene.
The phantom weight of Lola’s leash burns in my palm.
I hear her nails on the hardwood that last morning, the way she whined at the door when I could not take her with me.
Anger lifts first, clean and bright. It hits my tongue like copper.
Nerves come right after, a thin, mean flutter under my ribs.
There is a smaller voice that I hate, the one that asks if I look like someone who had to start over with two suitcases and a defeated heart.
If I look like a woman who lost the couch and the bed and the dog and still somehow kept her soft parts intact.
I straighten. I make myself breathe. The glassy calm I used to wear for him slides toward me out of habit, and I push it away. I don’t need it. Not here. Not with Remy’s truck warm at my back and his steady presence like a weight in the world.
Derek’s eyes flick over me. He smiles again, that knife-flat line, and tucks his mail under his arm like he is winning. My hands shake once on my lap and then go still. I lace my fingers together, so I don’t ball them into fists.
I hear Remy’s breath, a slow drag in and out.
He does not touch me, but I feel him anyway, the way the cab gathers around his quiet.
The way he becomes a place to stand. The shame that used to curl me small does not find a home this time.
It burns off in the heat of my anger and the steady thud of my own heart.
“Ready?” Remy asks, voice low.
I lift my chin. “Yeah,” I say. My voice holds. “I am ready.”
Derek takes a step like he might come over. I open my door first. The cold hits my face, sharp and clean, and I climb out into it like it belongs to me.
For a second, Remy doesn’t move, just stares at Derek like he’s measuring the distance between him and deciding how he wants to do this.
“I can do this,” I say quickly. I’m more convincing myself than I am stating a fact. It’s not working.
Remy’s eyes cut to me, one brow lifting. “Wait here a minute. I’ll be right back.”
It’s not a suggestion. Not patronizing either, it’s protective in a way that makes my pulse jump. And normally I’d argue, but something tells me he’s right, and I should wait.
He gets out, shutting the door with a slam that echoes across the small yard. No gloves. Coat unzipped just enough to see the flannel underneath. His shoulders roll as if he’s getting ready for a fight.
Junie watches and asks, “Who is that guy?”
“That’s my ex-boyfriend, Derek.” I murmur.
“Is that the one Uncle Finn calls Temu?” she asks, confused.
“That’s the one,” I say, biting my lip nervously as I watch.
“Well, you definitely got an upgrade with my dad,” she mutters.
“Hey! Your dad and I are just friends,” I blurt. I roll my window down and listen; Junie leans in, too.
“Bennett,” Derek says with fake surprise, straightening.
Wait. Do they know each other? I rack my brain trying to remember if Derek had met Remy at a family dinner or something, but Derek mostly made me go alone to those.
“Here to get Ivy’s things,” Remy says flatly. “You gonna move, or do I need to go through you?”
Derek laughs, but it’s thin. “This is between Ivy and me. Maybe you should go back to your little tree farm. Couldn’t hack it here as a lawyer, right?”
Wait, what?
Remy steps into his space, so close I can see Derek tense up and back up.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna stand right there while I take her inside and she gathers up her things, and you’re not gonna say a word while she does it.”
“She owes me—” Derek starts.
“She owes you nothing,” Remy cuts in, voice sharp as a blade. “And if you so much as raise your voice at her, I’ll make sure you regret it. In fact, don’t even talk to her or look at her. If you do, this will go sideways quickly for you.”
Derek’s face twitches in anger, maybe fear, and then he retreats toward his car, muttering and pulling out his phone, pushing some buttons and placing it to his ear.
Remy turns back to me, expression softening in an instant. “Come on. We need to hurry. Let’s get your things. Junie, you stay right here in the truck. Don’t unbuckle.”
I climb out, heart thudding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. He meets me halfway, his hand brushing the small of my back as he steers me toward the stairs. That one warm, solid touch feels like more safety than I’ve had in months.
Inside, it looks like a completely different home.
I recognize Kristin’s things everywhere.
There’s an expensive-looking flower bouquet on the kitchen island.
I pull out the card, and it says, “Happy three-month anniversary.” Oh, that’s cute.
We broke up this week. Nice to know she’s been fucking my boyfriend for three months.
Also, Derek never once sent me flowers like that.
I look for Lola everywhere. “She’s not here,” I say to Remy, panic filling my chest.
“We gotta hurry,” Remy says as he glances out the front window at Derek, who is pacing angrily on the phone and waving his hand at the house towards us. “I’ll find out where she is.”