Chapter 13 Ivy
IVY
The sun hasn’t yet slipped over the horizon when I climb out of Sebastian’s bed. The room is draped in shadows and quiet as I get dressed.
He’s asleep this time. Truly asleep.
His clothes are scattered on the floor where he kicked them off earlier—careless but predictable. Very Sebastian. I gather them quietly, folding each piece with care before setting them neatly on the chair by his dresser.
He’ll pretend not to notice in the morning. He always does. But he notices everything.
I glance back at the bed.
He’s on his back, one arm thrown over his head, lashes resting against his cheeks. His breathing is slower now—deep, even. No sharp inhales. No tension in his jaw. No more nightmares.
Good.
I move closer and brush my fingers along his cheek. He exhales softly, leaning into the touch like it’s instinct. Like his body knows me, even if his mind keeps pretending it doesn’t.
I sigh, studying his face. He’ll come around. He always does. My broken man just needs time. He needs me to protect the parts of himself no one else ever did.
Before I leave the room, I pause and look at him one last time. At the man who thinks he’s in control.
Then I pad into his en suite bathroom. The night light casts a soft golden glow over the mirror. I pull my bright pink lipstick from the pocket of my sweatshirt and apply a generous layer before drawing a giant heart on the glass.
I press my lips to it. Twice. Leaving my mark like a signature.
Perfect. He’ll see it when he brushes his teeth. When he’s busy pretending everything is normal.
I climb over the balcony railing and slide down the post, landing softly in the grass. The night air is cool against my skin.
I look back up at his darkened room and blow him a kiss.
“Don’t worry, Sebastian,” I whisper. “I’ll be back.”
The next morning, I climb over the deck railing and step inside like I belong here. Because I do.
Drew is in the kitchen, taking a drink of water. He freezes when he sees me, then spits it out.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, choking slightly as he sets the glass down.
I grin. “Relax, Drew. I’m here every morning.”
“That’s not comforting,” he says quietly.
I walk past him to the coffee pot and start filling it with water. “Sebastian likes it strong. Two scoops, not three. Three makes him irritable before nine a.m.”
Drew just stares at me.
“You drink it the same way?” I ask.
“That’s… fine,” he says slowly. “It’s fine.” He’s still watching me like I might do something nefarious if he blinks.
I give him a reassuring smile as I set to work.
“Why don’t you come in through the front door?” he finally asks.
“It’s less convenient,” I say. “And I hate inconveniences.”
I pull out a pan and set it on the stove. Then another. “Would you like pancakes?” I ask. “I make bacon, too. It’s your brother’s favorite breakfast. But I can do eggs or sausage for you if you prefer.”
Drew hesitates, then slowly slides into the chair at the table like his legs have forgotten how to work. “Pancakes and bacon are fine,” he says. “So… you do this often? Come over and make my brother breakfast?”
I smile as I turn on the burner. “And coffee,” I say. “Every morning. I enjoy making Sebastian’s life easier.” And one day, he’ll thank me for it.
Drew nods slowly, like he’s stuck in a nightmare he can’t wake up from.
His phone rings just as the bacon starts to sizzle. He flinches, then exhales when he looks at the screen. “It’s her,” he mutters, rubbing his forehead.
I pretend not to listen, even though I’m hanging on every word.
“What?” Drew says, rubbing his forehead. He listens for a second, then straightens. “No. No, that’s not my responsibility anymore.”
I flip a pancake.
“Yes, I know the garbage disposal is broken,” he continues. “But I don’t live there, Julia. And I didn’t break it.”
He pauses, a scowl on his face as he listens.
“No. I’m not coming over to fix it. Nor am I coming over to fix the toilet. You can call a plumber.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“Because we’re getting divorced,” he says, voice tight but steady. “And I’m done being the person you call when something goes wrong.”
I smile to myself.
“I’m not punishing you,” Drew adds. “I’m setting boundaries.”
Good. He’s learning the language.
He hangs up and stares at his phone for a moment, like he’s surprised it didn’t explode in his hand.
I slide a mug of coffee across the counter toward him. “Way to stand your ground.”
He looks up, brows lifting. “Um… thanks.”
“You’re establishing boundaries,” I say warmly. “Good for you.”
Drew opens his mouth like he wants to ask how I know that word—or why it sounds like a compliment coming from me—but footsteps interrupt him.
Sebastian enters the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He looks sleep-rumpled in a way that makes my chest feel tight.
“Mornin’,” he says to his brother.
Drew nods, still processing his life choices.
Sebastian’s gaze shifts to me. Calm. Familiar. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. He never does.
“Thanks for making coffee and breakfast,” he says.
“Of course,” I reply.
I place his mug in front of him once he sits down, handle turned the way he likes it. He wraps his fingers around it without comment.
I watch him take the first sip. The look on his face is all the thanks I need.
Everything is exactly the way it should be.