Chapter 21 Ivy
IVY
It’s Wednesday, a good day for errands. People are distracted. Routine-driven. Predictable.
More importantly, it’s been two days since I last saw Sebastian. I’m going a little crazy.
I tell myself I miss the routine, but it’s more than that.
I miss him.
Still, I can be patient when I need to.
Thomas drives me to the grocery store and waits outside.
I’m pushing a cart, my eyes on the list on my phone, when I run into Drew in the produce aisle.
Literally.
My cart clips the corner of his basket as I turn. We do the awkward grocery-store freeze—the one where both people apologize even though neither of us is entirely sure who’s at fault.
“Oh—sorry,” he says automatically, then blinks. “Ivy.”
“Hi, Drew.” I smile, easy and warm. Like this isn’t strange at all. Like I didn’t leave his brother rattled in a café two days ago.
He looks tired. Not in the end-of-day way—more like someone who hasn’t slept because his thoughts won’t behave. He also looks like a man who came here for three things and will leave with twelve, none of which include peace.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says.
I glance at his basket. Chicken. Rice. Frozen vegetables. Practical. Efficient. A little lonely. The unmistakable diet of a man avoiding takeout out of spite.
“Same,” I reply. “But I needed a few things for dinner.”
We stand there for a beat too long. The hum of the refrigeration units fills the silence.
“How are you?”
“Good,” I say. “You?”
“Good.”
The silence stretches a beat.
“How’s Sebastian?” I finally ask.
He doesn’t answer right away.
I pick up a bell pepper, turning it slowly in my hand as if deciding whether it’s worth keeping or setting back.
“He’s… busy,” he says, finally. “Focused.”
Focused is Drew’s polite way of saying Sebastian is emotionally barricaded.
I exhale through my nose. “That sounds like him.” I set the pepper into my cart. “He’s good at narrowing his world when he needs control.”
Drew stiffens slightly.
“I’m not criticizing,” I add gently. “It’s one of the things that makes him very good at what he does.”
That eases him.
He nods, then hesitates. “This morning—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
I meet his gaze. “You noticed I wasn’t there.”
He studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to decide what kind of person I am.
“What are you doing tonight?” he asks, then immediately looks like he regrets it.
I smile. “Nothing planned.” A lie—but not an important one.
“I thought you might… come over,” he says carefully.
I tilt my head. “Sebastian didn’t ask.”
Drew frowns. “That doesn’t usually stop you.”
“I think he needs space right now,” I say softly. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
Drew looks genuinely surprised. Something in his shoulders loosens. Like he’s relieved this isn’t going to turn into a neighborhood intervention.
“You don’t?”
I shake my head. “Not when something matters.”
That lands.
He grips the handle of his basket, knuckles whitening just a bit. “He’s been… off,” Drew admits. “More than usual.” He says it like a man reporting a strange noise in the walls—unsure if it’s dangerous, but certain it shouldn’t be ignored.
I don’t smile. I don’t pounce.
“I think,” I say carefully, “that when Sebastian starts pushing people away, it’s usually because something matters more than he wants it to.”
Drew swallows.
We stand there with the weight of that sentence between us, the fluorescent lights humming overhead.
“Well,” I say lightly, nudging my cart forward. “I should let you finish shopping.” I give him a warm smile. “Before one of us pretends to need kale.”
“Yeah,” he says, a smile blooming on his lips. “I should get to it.”
I start to pass him, then pause. “Oh—and Drew?”
He looks up.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
A beat of silence passes.
“I’m just letting him decide how close he wants me.”
I smile once more—gentle and reassuring—then walk away.
I know Drew will tell Sebastian about our conversation.
Drew is loyal like that.
Then I’ll wait for him to realize the house he’s living in is too quiet without me.