7. Ivy
SEVEN
Ivy
The coffee table in front of me is grimy and covered with things I’d rather not see. My skin crawls as I sit on the matted, deep brown couch, the fabric stained with missing chunks of thread that reveal an age-yellow backing.
There are more pills and powders than I can count, and yelling intensifies in the room off to my right.
My parents are fighting again. This time, it’s over money, which isn’t unusual. It’s either that or who used from the stash they were supposed to be selling that week.
We live in a trailer, and they’re about to lose it if they don’t make a mortgage payment soon. I’m not sure I would hate to be evicted.
In fact, I think it would be good. If we got kicked out, things kept in the shadows would be forced into the light, and I might get away from them.
I’m not supposed to want that, to leave my parents.
But they don’t feel like the caregivers most people get. I know they didn’t mean to have me—they’ve told me enough times—and they’ve made it clear that I’m a burden.
The screaming match gets louder and louder. I want to move, to run out the front door and never look back.
I don’t. I can’t .
Everything presses down, and I’m glued to this disgusting couch so much that I can barely blink. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision, and I can feel it trying to slip under my skin, dragging me down, down, down.
I’m sinking into the cushions, my legs lifting up in front of me. I’m drowning in nothingness, and I can’t fight it in the slightest.
It’s like being a doll set up in a plastic house that’s about to come face to face with a blow torch.
The pain and screaming and fear are all trapped inside me, and I don’t move. I don’t try to get away.
I just fall into the abyss that’s swallowing me down, tears streaming down my unblinking face.
And then it’s black, just eons and eons of black.
“No!”
Shooting up in my bed, I clutch the fabric of my sweat-coated shirt. My breath rushes in and out of me as I try to look around the dark room.
The softness of the sheets beneath begins to pull me back to reality.
I scan my surroundings, noting the bed, the dresser, and the open window to my right, a breeze wafting in that smells of autumn leaves and fresh rain.
“I’m not there.” My voice is a harsh whisper. “I’m not there. I’m…I’m in the new house. In…Red Lodge.”
Slowly, my breathing calms down, along with the furious pounding of my heart. It was just a nightmare.
Ring, ring, ring.
I nearly jump out of my skin as my phone starts up on the nightstand. Worried it might be Xaden in need of my help, I quickly yank it from the charger and check the screen.
It’s not him.
It’s that unknown number again.
Tossing it to the side, I don’t answer. But even after the call goes to voice mail, it rings again and then again for a third time.
After another moment, it buzzes.
I must have forgotten to put “do not disturb” on, and my guts churn with unease. I don’t know why, but I pick up my cell, looking down at the unread text icon.
Why are you doing this?
But it buzzes two more times in my grip as more messages flood in. I can’t take it, the morbid curiosity getting the better of me, and I swipe the screen open.
“You’re a goddamn cat for how well this is going to serve you.”
And there they are—the two messages I shouldn’t read.
What, you’re too good to talk to your old man now?
After everything you’ve done?
Come on, Vivi.
My cell shakes in my grip as I watch the dots at the bottom of the screen turn into another message.
Remember who you are, honey pot.
Remember where you come from.
I throw my phone down on the bed, sprinting to the bathroom as my stomach heaves up its minimal contents.
That was not the wake-up call I would have liked.
I also have like…I look at the alarm clock perched on my nightstand that I never bother to set. Twenty minutes. Great .
If I don’t get a move on, I’ll be late for Xaden’s typical work start. I can’t do that to him. He’s counting on me to be there for Daisy, and I adore that kid anyway.
Slinging on some clothes and a quick coat of makeup like I’m going for some kind of record, I get ready and rush out the door, trying my best to leave the messages behind me.
As I reach Xaden’s, hurrying up the steps to get inside, I notice a tall woman heading up the stairs of his porch. She’s well-dressed, and her light hair reflects the autumn sunlight bathing Xaden’s house.
I’m not about to stop, fearing being late more than having to speak to some solicitor, so I jog up behind her.
“Could you hold the door?”
When I call out, the woman turns on her expensive heel. I’m not met with the typical polite smile or simple nod, however.
No, this woman immediately glares at me as I come up to stand beside her.
“And you are?” She asks, her voice doing nothing to hide her obvious annoyance.
“Oh, I’m Ivy. Xaden’s nanny.”
She looks me up and down, her head bobbing in a nod as she chews on her tongue. “So, you’re the new girl. Hmm.”
Swallowing, I try to smile—though I know it doesn’t reach my eyes—and I nod back. “Yup. And you are?”
The woman barely bites back a scoff. “I’m Amy.”
My stomach clenches, and I remember the warning Sam offered. Shit, so this is his close “friend,” huh?
Straightening my spine, I’m silently thrilled that I managed to swipe on some mascara and lip gloss before I left the house. Everything about his woman is tailored and pristine, and I do my best to at least look confident even if I don’t feel it in the slightest.
“Of course,” I offer, pinning that retail grin in place. “It’s lovely to meet you, Amy. Xaden has said nothing but the best about you. Here, allow me to get the door.”
I step around her, shoving my bag back up my shoulder, and go for the screen door and then use my key to get inside. Holding things open for her, I wait as Amy takes a moment to survey me before entering.
“Thanks.”
There is no gratitude behind the word, but there’s certainly expectation—like everyone should always be opening doors for her.
It takes everything not to let the door fall and smack her in the face, but I force down the frustration nagging me. Amy’s sour expression persists as she steps inside, and I know one thing for sure.
We are not going to get along.
“Oh, hey.”
I turn to see Xaden behind me, likely having come in from the other room because he heard the door.
“Xaden!”
Amy shoves past me, leaving me in the proverbial dust with an unnecessary knock against my left shoulder, and I bite my tongue so hard as I shut the door that I taste copper.
But there’s nothing more I can do. So, I turn around, taking this last chance to stare daggers into the back of Amy’s head before I have to pretend to be nice to her.
It’s going to be a long day.