Chapter 45 Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
I leave the office early to take Ivy and Mr. Pickles to his first vet appointment.
I’m not sure what to expect when I get home, but the cool silence from her is a bitter pill to swallow, even though it’s one of the scenarios I prepared myself for.
Drew is thrilled he’ll have some free time without the “damn scrawny cat” in the house. He’s still mad that Mr. Pickles pissed on his bed again this afternoon.
Ivy insists on holding Mr. Pickles the entire drive, murmuring sweet words into the cat’s fur. She talks to him as if he understands her. Honestly, it seems like he does.
Once we arrive, Ivy puts him in the carrier. I grab the carrier from the back seat and try to hold her hand, but she moves away.
I don’t like it. At all.
The vet’s office smells like antiseptic and wet fur, and Mr. Pickles is not impressed.
He hisses from inside the carrier like he’s been personally betrayed by the concept of veterinary medicine. Ivy murmurs to him under her breath, fingers curled through the grate, soothing and low.
She hasn’t looked at me since we walked in.
I hate it.
We sit side by side in molded plastic chairs that squeak every time someone shifts. Our knees almost touch. The space between us feels deliberate, measured down to the inch.
I left work for this appointment. Cleared my schedule without thinking twice. Told myself it was practical. Efficient. Necessary.
But the truth is, I needed to see her.
Mr. Pickles growls again.
“I know,” Ivy murmurs. “I didn’t choose this either.”
The vet tech comes out, smiling. She leads us back to an exam room before I can say a word to Ivy.
She opens the crate door, and Mr. Pickles spits at her. He’s arched up, his black fur standing on end, a low growl coming from his throat.
I reach in and scoop him out. He curls against me, claws digging into my suit jacket, hanging on for dear life.
“Now, Mr. Pickles, this nice lady isn’t going to hurt you.” I lower my lips to his ears. “Be good, and I’ll give you those treats you like.”
His head pops back, green eyes staring up at me.
“Three of them.”
He stares at me a moment longer. I put him on the exam table, where he promptly lies down. He looks annoyed but allows her to do her job.
The vet comes in a moment later, and I have to intervene and bargain with Mr. Pickles all over again to get him to calm down. But he does and even allows the vet to give him shots—as long as I keep giving him treats.
Ivy tries not to smile, which makes my heart swell. I was hoping she wouldn’t be able to stay irritated at me for very long.
When the appointment is finished, I put him back in the carrier and head to the front desk. Ivy stands beside me, closer than before.
I’m wearing her down.
I pay, and we leave. We’ve barely taken two steps outside the door when I see him. Every instinct in my body snaps to attention.
Silas strolls toward us like he owns the place. He’s all lazy confidence, sharp eyes, and a mouth already curling into a knowing smirk as his gaze sweeps over me.
Then it lands on Ivy.
His eyes move over her slowly.
Something hot and immediate coils low in my spine.
“Well,” Silas drawls, eyes flicking between us. “This is domestic.”
Ivy stiffens and shifts slightly, her shoulder brushing my arm.
My body reacts before my brain does.
I gently hand her the carrier and step forward, placing myself between her and him. Mr. Pickles yowls like he’s not a fan of Silas, either.
Silas blinks, and then his smile widens. “Wow,” he says. “Didn’t know you came with security now.”
“Don’t speak to her,” I snap. I don’t look back at Ivy. My focus is locked on him. “You’re not welcome here.”
Silas chuckles. “Relax. I’m just here for my dog.” His eyes flick past me again. “Didn’t realize she needed a guard dog.”
Something sharp slices through me. “I’ll do anything to keep you away from her,” I say.
Silas’s amusement fades, just a fraction.
The silence that follows is thick. Heavy. Charged.
Ivy is behind me, one hand clutching the back of my jacket. I feel the tension in her grip through the fabric.
“You’re safe with me,” I whisper over my shoulder. “He won’t get near you.”
I feel the relief in her shoulders. Feel her exhale against my skin.
“It’s a free country.” He smirks again, but it’s thinner now. “Can’t stop me from going to pick my dog up from the vet.”
“No,” I say, not moving a muscle. “But I can make damn sure you don’t terrorize Ivy.”
The glint in his eyes fades slightly. He holds his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender before giving us a wide berth, then heading inside the vet’s office, the door swinging shut behind him.
Mr. Pickles yowls again, clearly voicing his opinion on the subject.
I exhale and turn.
Ivy releases me and hugs the carrier tighter. Her eyes are bright, but not in the way I want.
She looks annoyed.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She holds my gaze for a beat too long. “Yes,” she says. “But we’re going to talk about that.”
“Ivy, he’s an asshole.”
She nods. “I know that. But you didn’t give me a chance. You just stepped in.”
The vein throbs in my forehead. “You moved closer to me. Grabbed my jacket.”
“I know. I was scared. You decided to have a pissing contest outside the vet’s office.”
My stomach drops.
Damn it. I did it again. I decided for her.
And even though part of her leaned into it, another part of her is done being managed.
Mr. Pickles lets out a furious yowl, punctuating the moment.
Ivy exhales slowly, eyes dropping to the carrier. “Congratulations,” she murmurs. “You scared off the threat.”
Then she looks back up at me, green eyes sharp. “Now explain why you didn’t ask me first.”
And just like that, I realize defending her was easy.
Trusting her?
That’s the part I still don’t know how to do.