Chapter 64 Ivy
IVY
I wake up to the smell of coffee. Real coffee. Not the bitter, burned hospital kind that tastes like regret.
This smells warm. Familiar. Safe.
My eyes flutter open slowly, my body sore in places I don’t want to think about yet. The ceiling above me isn’t bright, humming with fluorescent lights.
I sigh in relief. I’m in Sebastian’s room.
Our room.
Soft morning light filters through the window, catching dust motes and making everything feel gentler than yesterday ever allowed.
Mr. Pickles is already awake, stretched across my legs like a furry seatbelt, one paw resting possessively on my thigh. His tail flicks when I shift, and he opens one eye to assess the threat level.
“It’s just me,” I murmur.
He immediately calms.
Voices drift up from downstairs, low and familiar. Something in my chest loosens when I hear Sebastian and Drew laughing.
It feels normal.
I sit up when familiar footsteps draw closer. My lips curve in a welcoming smile when Sebastian pushes the door open.
“Hey, gorgeous. You hungry?”
“Hey, handsome. Starving.”
He grabs his hoodie and puts it over my pajama top before lifting me from the bed. Mr. Pickles is already at the door, waiting for us to follow him.
“I can walk,” I protest as he carries me toward the stairs.
“I’m aware. I’ve seen you do it.”
I roll my eyes. “Not what I meant.”
His smirk makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter.
“Good morning,” Drew says as Sebastian sets me in the chair across from him. “How are you?”
“Great. A bit pampered by an over-protective—”
“Not over. Appropriately protective.” Sebastian winks at me, then heads to the stove.
I hate how much I’m enjoying all the extra attention.
“Not a bad problem to have, Ivy.” Drew grins at me.
“True.” I grow serious. “How are you?”
“Great. The police assured me I’m in the clear. No charges are being filed.”
“Excellent. As it should be.” I pat his hand. “You saved us.”
“That’s what the police said too.”
Mr. Pickles rubs against my ankles, eyeing Drew. He doesn’t growl or attack him. Progress.
The smell of bacon and pancakes fills the air. I inhale deeply, a smile on my face.
The sight of Sebastian cooking hits me harder than it should. He’s focused, movements careful and deliberate. Pancakes on the griddle. Bacon in the pan. Coffee already poured. He glances at me every few seconds like he’s checking that I haven’t vanished.
Mr. Pickles jumps on the back of my chair and surveys the room like a war general.
Drew turns around, watching Sebastian like he’s waiting for something to explode.
“You sure that’s safe?” he asks. “Because I feel like I should be emotionally prepared for food poisoning.”
Sebastian doesn’t look at him. “You can make your own breakfast if you don’t trust my cooking.”
“I would,” Drew says, “but I burn bacon and pancakes.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “And coffee,” I add.
Drew sticks his tongue out at me, and I laugh.
Sebastian turns, relief flickering across his face when he sees me smiling. He sets a plate in front of me like it’s sacred. “Eat.” The word is gentle. Protective.
I take a bite.
“Oh,” I say. “This is good.”
Drew straightens. “Excuse me?”
I nod. “Really good.”
Sebastian’s shoulders drop a fraction.
Drew grabs his fork and stabs a bite of pancake. He puts it in his mouth and chews. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
I grab the syrup and then go for—
Shit. The butter is still in the fridge.
I shift in my chair, about to stand.
Immediately, Drew’s hand shoots out, stopping me.
“Nope,” Drew says. “You sit. What do you need?”
I blink. “Butter.”
“Got it.”
He’s up and back in seconds, setting it in front of me like it’s nothing.
“Wow. Thanks.”
Mr. Pickles jumps right into Drew’s lap.
He freezes, staring at the cat in horror.
The cat rubs his head against Drew’s chest and starts purring.
Drew exhales carefully. “Is he tricking me?”
I grin. “Nope. He’s thanking you for taking care of me.”
Drew swallows. Very slowly, he scratches behind Mr. Pickles’s ear.
The cat purrs, leaning his head into Drew’s hand.
Drew’s shoulders sag in relief. “Okay. I’m accepted.”
“For now,” I say. “You’re on probation.”
“I’ll take it.”
There’s a knock at the door.
Sebastian looks up, a smile on his face. “I invited someone to join us.” He hurries from the kitchen, ignoring the confused look Drew and I exchange.
My dad steps inside moments later, coffee in hand, eyes scanning until they land on me. “Ivy.”
“Hi, Dad.” I beam at him.
“Sorry, I’m late.” He crosses the room and hugs me carefully, like I might break if he breathes wrong.
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
He grins at Sebastian, then at me. “Surprise.” He slides into the seat beside me. “Breakfast smells amazing.”
“Thank you,” Sebastian says evenly.
Drew lifts his fork. “So far, no one’s died.”
My dad looks confused. “That’s good… I think.”
I pat his hand. “Drew has a dry sense of humor. You’ll get used to it.”
Sebastian slides a plate of food in front of him, then places his own plate on the table beside me.
The conversation is pleasant and full of laughter despite what happened yesterday. I can tell Dad is still pissed that Sebastian didn’t call him sooner, but he’s slowly warming toward him.
Mr. Pickles positions himself on the back of my chair again like a furry black soldier stationed between me and the world.
Sebastian’s hand finds mine under the table. He squeezes gently.
I lean into him.
And for the first time since everything went wrong, I feel taken care of.
I blow out a small breath, grateful for the family and love surrounding me.
A small smile curves my lips.
Who would’ve thought stalking someone would turn into breakfast and family?