37. Ivy
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ivy
Xaden is sawing logs when I begin to stir in the bed. My body is blissfully sore, and I’m not rushing to the toilet, which is a nice improvement.
Everything feels warm and cozy, and I can’t think of any place I’d rather be right now.
Still, I feel like I have to say thank you somehow. Xaden has been so incredibly supportive and always puts me first. He deserves something nice for a change.
What can I do for you, huh?
I watch him sleep, gently brushing his bangs off his forehead, and then my stomach rumbles.
I’m actually hungry. That’s a good sign.
And then an idea strikes. I could make him breakfast in bed. Xaden never gets pampered. It’s time he got to sit back and relax for a minute.
Sitting up gently, I slip out of the bed and make sure to grab my phone on the way to the closet. I use it to check the monitor on the app, and Daisy is still sound asleep, too.
“Perfect,” I whisper, finding some undies and a pair of leggings, “I’ll be back before they even wake up. Well, hopefully.”
There’s a t-shirt on top of the clean clothes piled in the hamper, and I snag my sweater that’s hanging up to keep warm.
Still, I don’t want Xaden to worry, so I sneak over to his briefcase, which is parked on the chair by the door, and pull out a piece of paper and a pen.
I scribble out a note about running to the grocery store and demand that Xaden be firmly planted in this bed—with or without Daisy—when I get back. It shouldn’t take me long, only ten minutes or so.
Leaving the note on my pillow, I blow Xaden a kiss and hurry downstairs to snag my keys. My car is parked out in my driveway, so it’ll be quieter to take mine than open the garage and use Xaden’s.
The engine hesitates to turn over, but after a few seconds of impatient frustration, it starts, and I pull out of the driveway and head to the store that’s right on Main Street.
It takes no time at all to get there, and I find a spot directly in front of the main door on the street. I must be the only one up right now.
Hurrying out of the car, I grab my wallet, feed the meter a quarter, and then dash inside Murphy’s.
“Hey, Ivy!” Calls Mark, the regular clerk I always see, and I wave back at him, going for the bakery section to get some croissants.
Just as I’m coming around the corner of the aisle before the baked goods, I run smack dab into someone and stumble backward.
“Oof,” I blink, a bit bewildered, before I start to straighten myself and look up at the tallish man, “sorry about that. I must not have been looking where I was going.”
“Guess not.”
The voice is deep, and it has this subtle accent that doesn’t match the people of Red Lodge. It is a tourist town, but what are the odds of someone coming to the local grocery store.
Goosebumps work over my arms, and a shiver runs down my spine as I look up at a face that seems…weirdly familiar.
“I’m sorry,” I eke out, and the man glares down at me as a smirk climbs up the side of his mouth.
It’s crooked, revealing poorly cared-for teeth, and I swallow hard as silent alarm bells begin to blare in my head.
My instincts are screaming at me that I’m not safe, but I can’t place why. Is it just that odd feeling you get when someone’s presence rubs you the wrong way?
In any case, I step backward and angle myself toward the bakery again.
“Well, I need to get going. I am sorry if I hurt you at all.”
The man cocks his head, his brows raising. “If? If you hurt me?”
Nausea has begun to well up, and my throat is tight as my mouth fills with saliva. I don’t like this. It feels…wrong.
Glancing around the store, I look for anyone who’s near me, but it’s so early, and the store is basically empty except for me and Mark. And he’s back at the front.
“You hurt me more than anyone has,” His expression darkens, and I’m aware of my mouth dropping open as the green of his eyes hits me, “ Vivi .”
Oh, God…it…it can’t…
Before another thought can pass through me, I’m reeling backward even more, trying to put as much distance between me and my father as I can.
My heart is pounding, and suddenly, everything is too tight and too warm and too everything.
“Now, now. Where you going, sweetheart? We have a conversation to get to.”
This can’t be real. He can’t be here. Except, I knew it. I knew he was close, and I didn’t do anything about it.
Dammit, I’m such an idiot. Why didn’t I do something?
Still, as I’m pushed down into the ground by my father’s evil stare, I know it’s my own post-traumatic bullshit that’s kept me frozen in place.
I’m nothing but that tiny kid again when he’s here, even when it’s just in my head.
Now? Now that he’s standing right fucking in front of me, the only thing I feel is terrified. I can’t…I can’t get taken someplace again.
He can’t…my father can’t sell me again.
I’m about to fall, my balance going wonky as I step back again, but my dad’s hand snakes out too fast for my liking, and he grabs my bicep to hold me in place.
“You haven’t answered any of my calls or texts. I’m beginning to think you don’t like your old man.” I shake my head, tears dribbling down my cheeks, but he shakes me. “Don’t lie, Vivi. It ain’t attractive.”
We’re just out of the eyeline of the register, and I’m trying to scream or call for help, but it’s only pathetic squeaks that come out of me, which twist into a hiss of pain as my father clamps down.
“You owe me, naughty little brat.” The singsong tone of Dad’s voice is gone, and that mean growl I recognize—that I’ve learned to fear—hits me as good as a slap. “You got me thrown in the clink, and it’s your doing that left me with nothing. I demand some fucking payback.”
I can’t breathe or think. My heart is so damned loud in my ears, and I think I’m going to puke all over my father’s scuffed boots.
“I…I…” My mouth is dry even as the tears spill over endlessly. “I don’t have anything.”
Dad shakes me—hard. “Bullshit. I seen you with that fucking man of yours. He looks well fucking off. Even tried to scare me off last night. You into men that can hit you, Vivi? Cuz I can make a killing off that.”
My blood runs cold, and I think about last night after I’d fallen asleep. Xaden. Xaden tried…oh, God.
Yanking on my arm, the fear begins to turn into panic for self-preservation. “Let go! I don’t have your money. Leave me alone!”
It’s louder than I expected to be able to muster out, and my father’s expression goes furious, his brows down low over his eyes.
“Shut it, girl. You ain’t getting me locked up again.”
I don’t understand how, but something about his grip changes when he gets angry, and the last yank on my arm gets me free. The surprise lingers for both of us before I spin and tear ass out of the store.
I need to get back home.
The pounding of my steps on the linoleum floor booms, and I rush past the checkout toward my car.
“Ivy?” I hear Mark say. “You alright?”
But I can’t stop; I know that my father is right behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck as he chases me down.
It’s too familiar. Images of the past, of running away from that van, mix with the present, the world tilting on its axis. I’m through the door, though, and my car is right there.
I can make it. I can make it.
Something hits the back of my legs. Before I can react, I’m tripping, slamming down into the ground. Pain ricochets through my arms and knees, which took the brunt of the fall.
When I turn around, instinct forcing me to see what made me fall, I see a small dolly that my father shoved toward me. He’s rushing forward, and I have to get out of the way.
But I’m frozen.
He looks beyond furious, his eyes wild and bloodshot. God, has he been using again?
“Little bitch!”
The words force me back into flight mode, and I scramble to my feet, rushing for the driver's side of my car. When I get there, I’m slammed into the door and then spun around.
“You think you can just run away from me!? Huh!”
My back aches, and I can’t stop the sobs from racking through my chest. “Let me go! Please !”
All I can think about right now is the terror, and it’s made worse as I abruptly remember that it’s not just my life at stake.
No, no, no. I can’t lose the baby.
My father shakes me, shoving me against the car door again, and I yelp. “You want me to start making a scene in front of all these nice townies?”
He leans in, whispering in my ear. “You want me to tell them all what a bit fucking slut you are? All about what happened when you were a teenager!”
Horror and mortification seep through me, and I shake my head.
I logically know that the only reason I went along with the sex trafficking for as long as I did was because I was terrified.
I know that I let him parade me around like that to the “buyers,” let them touch me because I was too scared to even think.
But it doesn’t matter.
I’m trapped in a swirling hole of darkness that screams at me that my father is right. That I’m a worthless whore, and I don’t deserve my happiness.
The words are all said in my father’s voice as the play on repeat in my head.
I haven’t escaped him. I never will. I was wrong. I was so very fucking wrong about finally getting to have my life be mine.
“Please,” I whimper, my sobs punishing my chest, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just…just don’t hurt me again.”
I don’t want to be this person, this little girl. But all I can do is beg for my life.
“Get away from her!”
The world screeches to a halt as I hear Xaden’s voice calling out from my right. Turning that way, I see him barreling toward my father, and then, quick as a lightning strike, he plows into the man and sends him flying.
I’m knocked to the ground, the asphalt grinding into my palms, but my father isn’t holding me anymore.
Looking up into Xaden’s eyes, I’m past shocked and well into wild disbelief.
“Xaden?” I shake my head.
“I saw your note. I just knew something was wrong. I came as fast as I could.”
Sobbing is ongoing now, harder than ever, and I grip his shirt, still shaking my head. “Xaden?"
"Yes. I’m here, baby. You’re okay.”
“He…I…” My brain is completely shutting down, and I think I might have to lay down—now.
As I wobble, Xaden catches me and leans me against the car. “Hey, hold on, baby. We’ll get you some help. I’m not leaving you. Can you?—”
But then Xaden isn’t in front of me anymore.
My eyes are seeing, but it takes a full second or two for my brain to process what’s happening. My dad has knocked Xaden to the ground, and the two of them are scrambling around each other.
They’re getting too close to traffic.
“Xaden!”
The scream is loud, and then my father’s face is popping up from punching Xaden in the face. He rushes toward me, and I’m too slow—too goddamn weak—to stop him.
Dad grips the front of my shirt and hauls me off my feet. He whirls me around, shoving me backward to where I know cars are obliviously hurrying past us.
“You fucking bitch,” he growls out. “You ruined everything for me!”
He’s so damn strong. He’s always been so strong, and I feel like a dumb little kid again. I’m useless and unable to stop him.
“Please!” I beg, my mind now circling around the life growing within me. “Please don’t do this!”
“If you ain’t going to be a payday,” my father’s eyes are wild and bloodshot, “you ain’t going to be my problem either.”
He pulls me in, and I know he’s gearing up to throw me into the path of an oncoming car.
No, no, no. Please, no. I don’t want to leave.
A car rushes up toward us. I can’t help but look at it, and I feel my father’s grip adjust. I’m going to die.
He’s just about to toss me when Xaden is suddenly there again, smashing his fist into my father’s face. I tumble to the ground, immediately crawling toward the curb.
As I look back over my shoulder, I see Xaden level another punch at my dad’s stomach, and now the sounds of police sirens are blaring closer and closer.
I need to get out of here. I can’t…I can’t do this.
Panic is everywhere, and all I can think about is how I nearly died just then, how my father is never going to stop coming after me—and the people I love.
They’re in danger with me here, and as my heartbeat screams in my ears, I tear off toward my car, running as fast as I can.
I can’t be here. It’s too dangerous for everyone.
“Ivy!” I hear Xaden shout behind me, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
I just need to get away—now.