Chapter 22
Remy
“Sloane, I am out here every damn day raising her while you are off doing whatever the hell you want,” I roar. “You have no right to come here and act like you care more than I do. If you cared, you would have been here for the last eighteen months.”
Sloane crosses her arms, chin high, voice sharp enough to cut. “You clearly cannot handle being a parent.”
That burns through me like gasoline. The audacity of her coming here and saying this to me when my daughter is missing.
“I don’t need you,” I snarl. “I don’t need anybody. Not even you.” My eyes flick to Ivy, who is frozen near the porch, tears glinting. “I can take care of my own kid. This was all a mistake. I should have taken care of her myself.”
The words hang there, ugly and sharp, and Ivy’s face crumples. She turns away, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, and I feel something inside me break. Sloane looks at Ivy, confused and back at me and shakes her head angrily.
And then I hear Finn shouting my name.
I spin around, heart lurching. He’s jogging across the lot, snow kicking up under his boots, Junie in his arms, Lola trotting next to him.
“She’s here!” he calls.
My legs move before my brain catches up. I meet him halfway, and Junie launches herself into my chest. I fold her up against me so tight I’m surprised she can breathe, burying my face in her hat. The smell of hay and snow and little-kid shampoo nearly takes me down.
“Don’t cry, Daddy,” she whispers, clutching my neck with both mittened hands. “I’m here. I just got stuck. Uncle Finn came to get me.”
My chest heaves with relief.
Her voice cracks. “I was so scared, Daddy. I cried for you to come. Where’s Ivy?”
My throat closes, and a broken sound tears out of me. “I’m here, bug. I’m here now. You’re safe. I will keep you safe.”
I kiss the top of her head, her cheeks, her nose, rocking her without meaning to. Finn is still talking, something about finding her in the back goat pen, the latch half-closed so she couldn’t push it open, but all I can do is hold her.
I can’t believe I didn’t think to look in the goat pen. I should have known she would go there. God, why did I let this happen? I should have had her with me. I should have been watching her.
Ivy is standing on the porch, one hand pressed to her mouth, silent tears running down her face.
Sloane still looks like she’s ready to explode, but I don’t even look at her.
I watch her look at Junie, get in her car and start to drive away.
Again, not even bothering to speak to her daughter and make sure she’s okay.
But I stopped trying to figure out why Sloane does what she does a long time ago. Nothing makes sense.
“She’s fine,” Finn says gently, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Just cold and scared.”
I nod once, still rocking Junie, my chest shaking with leftover fear. “Thank you,” I manage, and Finn just nods back, stepping away to give me space.
Junie pulls back just enough to look at me. “Can we go inside now? It’s cold. I didn’t get lunch.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, kissing her again. “Yeah, we can go inside.”
I carry her toward the house, my arms locked around her like I might lose her again if I let go. Behind me, I hear Ivy’s soft sob as she turns and disappears inside.
The relief is so sharp it feels like pain.
My little girl is safe. She’s in my arms. And yet the damage is done.
I saw Ivy’s face. I know what I just did to her.
I was so scared, and I took it out on everyone.
Because that’s my default. I need to do everything on my own.
Because I am the only one who is supposed to keep it all together.
And as I step into the warm glow of the house, the weight of it lands on me like a boulder, I might have my daughter, but I think I broke everything else.
“Ivy, we need to talk,” I say as Ivy turns and walks down the hall.
“Ivy,” I say, but it’s too late.
I hear her hugging Junie and saying something softly to her and Junie protesting, “No, Ivy. I’m sorry. I won’t ever go to the goat pen, again.”
“It’s not your fault, honey. It’s okay. I’m just so glad that you’re safe,” Ivy says softly, her voice wavering with emotion.
God, I messed this up. I don’t deserve Ivy. And she definitely didn’t deserve the bullshit I said to her. I would give anything to take it back. That anger had no place directed at Ivy, and I messed this up.
A few minutes later, Ivy is back with a duffel bag in her hand. Lilith is waiting by her car in the driveway.
Junie sees her and starts sobbing, reaching out. “Ivy! Don’t go!”
“I have to, bug,” Ivy whispers, her own tears running down her face as she hugs her tight. “I love you so much. Keep Lola safe for me, okay? I know Lola loves you just as much as I do.”
I say nothing because I don’t deserve to say anything. Ivy is right to leave. Hell, I’d leave me if I could. I am a giant asshole. I don’t deserve to be loved by Ivy. And I’m also mad that she’s leaving.
I stand there frozen as Lilith helps her into the car. The engine starts. The taillights glow red. Then they’re gone, and the yard is quiet except for my daughter’s hiccupping cries.
I turn in a slow circle, taking in the mess. Customers are standing near their trucks, whispering. Rowan and Willa look like they want to murder me. Donna is glaring like she doesn’t even recognize me.
And Ivy is gone because of me. I did this.
I drag both hands down my face and sink onto the porch step, my stomach twisted into knots. I have been through gunfights and bar fights and storms that tore fences out of the ground, but nothing has ever hurt like this.
I drove her away. And I hate myself for it.
Later that night, the house is too quiet. Too empty.
Junie is finally asleep in her room, curled against her stuffed narwhal like she’s afraid to let it go. I stand in the doorway, watching her little chest rise and fall, and every time I blink I see Ivy’s face when I told her I didn’t need her.
Even the dog is watching me with worried eyes. It isn’t lost on me that she left her here for Junie. She always puts Junie first and loves her deeply. Something I took for granted when I yelled at her.
God, what the hell is wrong with me? She loved Junie enough to leave her dog here for her.
She loves us. I am the problem here. It was a simple mistake.
I know that now. But in the moment, I felt like I was losing it.
Losing Junie. And I said terrible things that I never should have said.
After everything that Ivy has done for us.
I step into the hall and shut the door a crack, then walk back to the kitchen. The counter is spotless, but there’s a single crayon sitting by the sink. Red. The tip is worn down to a nub. Junie left it here this morning.
My throat burns, and my eyes sting from emotion, and I hate that I ruined it. Sabotaged it. Shut it all down before it could shut me down. And here I am, still shut down.
I grab a beer from the fridge and sink into the chair at the table, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor. The silence presses in on me until I can hear my own heart thump with anger.
The door creaks and then shuts. Finn steps into the kitchen, takes one look at me, and shakes his head.
“You really screwed up,” he says flatly.
I let out a humorless laugh. “Thanks for the update.”
“No,” Finn says, his voice sharper. “You don’t get to sit here and sulk like you didn’t just blow up your whole life.
I have seen you mad, Rem, but I have never seen you like that.
You lit into Ivy like she was the enemy.
She loves that kid, and she loves you. And you practically shoved her out the door. ”
I grip the neck of the bottle so hard my knuckles ache. “I know.”
“Then what the hell were you thinking?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I wasn’t thinking. I was panicking. I thought—” My voice cracks, and I have to stop, take a long breath. “I thought I’d lost her. And all I could see was that empty shop and her gone, and my brain just…snapped. I went after the first person in front of me.”
“And that was Ivy.”
I nod with defeat.
Finn leans on the counter, arms crossed. “Sloane deserves every bit of your anger that you have for her. But not Ivy. She’s done nothing but love you and your kid. You know that.”
The words feel like gravel in my throat. “I know,” I admit. “I love Ivy. More than I have ever loved anyone but Junie. And now she’s devastated, and things might be too far gone to fix.”
Finn is quiet for a long moment. “Then you’d better figure out how to fix this. She’s not just gonna come walking back through that door, Rem. You hurt her bad. You messed this up big time. I’m so fucking pissed at you. I don’t know how you could do that to her. You lost control.”
“I know.” I groan as I drop my head into my hands. “I saw her face, and I’ll never forget it.”
That look on her face when I lashed out with those horrible things I said. I don’t even want to think about it again.
“You need to do something big for her. Show her that you messed up and it won’t happen again. Show her how much she means to you.”
He leaves me there in the kitchen, alone with the weight sitting on my chest like a cinder block.
When the house is quiet again, I get up and walk to my room.
Her sweater is still on the chair by the bed, one of those soft ones she wears when she’s making cocoa or reading with Junie.
I pick it up and press it to my face, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo, and it just about knocks me to my knees.
I sit there on the edge of the bed with that sweater in my hands, and all I can think is that I have to make this right.
I don’t care how. I’ll grovel or beg. I will fight harder than I ever have for anything.
Because if I lose Ivy for good, I lose the family I have been dreaming of since the day Junie was born.
And this cannot be the end of our story.