Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ivy
Ilie in bed in my childhood room, staring at the ceiling as the early morning light creeps through the drapes. Sleep eluded me all night, my thoughts a tangled mess of everything that’s unfolded.
When I arrived yesterday, I had to push my way through a wall of reporters and flashing cameras, all of them shouting questions I had no intention of answering.
I didn’t stop until I was safely inside, falling straight into Mom’s arms. She held me just like she did when I was little, after scraped knees or a bump on the head from flipping off the garden swing set.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed that comfort until I was wrapped in it.
I didn’t text Wyatt. I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make him feel worse.
I know he’s probably hurting that I left.
I’m hurting too, but I needed the distance.
He didn’t reach out either, and part of me wonders if that was Ash’s doing.
She could see how badly I was spiralling.
Maybe she told him to give me space. If she did, I doubt he took it well.
With a sigh, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I can’t just lie here anymore, staring at nothing. I might as well start the day. Hopefully, it’ll be better than yesterday.
I grab my phone and quietly make my way downstairs. In the kitchen, I flick on the coffee machine, pouring myself a cup when it’s ready, and then head for the den. Curling up on the sofa, I take a slow sip, hoping the caffeine will wake me up.
My phone’s on silent, but when a notification lights up the screen, I hesitate before checking it.
Every alert for the past twenty-four hours has brought more bad news, and I’m bracing myself for another blow.
When I finally glance down and see it’s a message from Ash, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I place my coffee on the side table, unlock the screen, and tap the message.
Ash: Hey, how you doing? I couldn’t sleep for worrying about you.
Sighing, my fingers fly over the screen as I reply.
Me: I’m okay. Couldn’t sleep either. How was Wyatt yesterday?
I watch as the message shows, read, and the typing bubble appears, then disappears before appearing again. Finally, a message comes through.
Ash: Upset. He’s worried about you.
I exhale loudly. I’m worried about him too, and maybe it was wrong to push him away. I don’t know how I’m meant to deal with this. I guess I just ran when things got hard.
Another message pops up.
Ash: You should know that he wanted to follow you back to Hope Creek. I stopped him and told him you needed some space. I hope I did the right thing.
I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. But I did tell her I needed space, and I’m grateful she had my back.
Me: You did. I should have called him. I wimped out. He probably hates me.
Ash: He doesn’t. You should talk to him.
Me: I will. Thanks, Ash. Love you.
Ash: Love you too. Call me if you need me.
I set my phone down on the sofa beside me and lean back against the cushions.
Yesterday, I told Ash I needed space, and maybe I did in that moment, but the truth is, all I want right now is Wyatt.
I want to be close to him, to feel his arms around me, again.
It hasn’t even been that long since I last saw him, but I miss him like it’s been weeks. I just wish he was here.
Wyatt
I’ve been up since dawn, though I never actually slept. I’ve spent the whole night awake, then pacing the kitchen since first light, watching the clock and waiting for it to be a reasonable hour to show up at Ivy’s parents’ house.
I promised Ash I’d give Ivy space, and I have, even though it’s killed me. But now, as the clock inches toward nine, I know I’ve waited long enough. I need to see her. I have to.
Mom’s been by my side all morning, doing her best to talk me out of giving this woman exactly what she wants just to make all of this disappear.
Deep down, I know she’s right. Paying her off wouldn’t solve anything.
It would only encourage her to come back for more later, and worse, it would make it look like the headlines are true, even though they’re complete garbage.
But logic isn’t exactly winning right now. Not when Ivy’s hurting. Not when my relationship with her is hanging by a thread.
“I really hope Nash has found something on this woman,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. “I thought he might’ve gotten back to me yesterday.”
“I hope so too, sweetheart,” Mom says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“I can’t wait anymore. I’m going to Ivy’s parents’ place.”
“Okay. Give Ivy a hug from me,” Mom says.
I bend down and kiss her cheek.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.”
Grabbing my keys, I hurry out of the kitchen and head for the car.
As I pull out of the driveway, I let out a groan.
There’s a small cluster of reporters lingering near the entrance.
Since my parents’ place is tucked away down a private drive, I hadn’t realized they were even there.
Still, it’s nothing compared to what’s probably waiting outside Ivy’s parents’ house.
It’s a quick drive, but as I turn onto Ivy’s street, my jaw tightens. There must be at least twenty reporters and photographers crowding the front of the house. Anger churns in my gut. No wonder Ivy left Phoenix. There’s no way her mom should be here alone, dealing with this circus.
I see the exact moment someone spots me. Not hard to do, considering I’m in my Mercedes. Realizing Ivy probably won’t answer the door, assuming it’s another reporter, I hit her number on the hands-free.
“Hey,” she answers, and just hearing her voice makes my chest ache.
“Hey, baby. I’m outside.”
“What?” she says. “Outside where?”
“Your parents’ place. I’m just pulling into the driveway. I didn’t want you thinking it was another reporter banging on the door.”
I ease onto the drive and turn off the engine.
“You’re here?” she asks, like she doesn’t quite believe it.
“I am. Can you open the door when I knock?”
There’s a short pause, then, “Come around the back. I’ll unlock the gate.”
“Okay.”
The call ends, and as I step out, cameras flash and reporters start shouting my name, pelting me with questions I have zero interest in answering.
I keep my head down and jog around the side of the house.
The gate swings open easily. Ivy must have already unlocked it, and I quickly close it behind me, sliding the bolt into place.
As I step into the backyard, my breath hitches.
Ivy’s standing on the deck, waiting, and the second our eyes meet, she rushes down the steps and throws herself into my arms.
Relief floods through me the moment she’s in my arms, her body pressed tightly against mine. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I last held her, and now that I have her back, I don’t want to let go.
“I can’t believe you came,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for leaving the way I did. When Mom called, she sounded terrified, and I just… I panicked. Everything felt like too much all at once, but I should’ve called you. I should’ve said something. I’m sorry.”
Her words come in a frantic rush, and I pull back just enough to look at her, tilting her chin with my finger until our eyes meet.
“Hey,” I say, brushing her cheek with my thumb, “just breathe, okay? You don’t owe me an apology. Not for any of it. You did what you had to do. That’s all that matters.”
“I just needed some space,” she whispers, “But how I feel about you hasn’t changed.”
Her words feel like a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders, and I drop my forehead on hers. “Thank God. Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Ivy.”
She leans back and cups my jaw. “You haven’t lost me.”
“I wanted to come yesterday, but Ash stopped me. Said I should give you some space, but I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“I’m done needing space, Wyatt. I’m glad you’re here.”
We’re silent for a moment before I kiss her softly.
“Are your parents okay?”
“Yeah. Mom was pretty shaken up. Dad was out, but the reporters were still around when he got home from golf.”
“Damn. Ivy, I’m so sorry. They must hate me.”
“They don’t. I explained everything to them.”
I pause. “Ash told me you lost a client… I’m really sorry, baby.”
“You’ve got to stop apologizing. This isn’t your fault.”
“It feels like it is.”
“I know it does. But you did everything you could to keep this contained.”
“Yeah, and it still blew up in your face.” I tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
“Come inside. Mom’s making bacon and eggs.”
She takes my hand, but I hesitate at the doorway.
I’m a grown man. I shouldn’t be this nervous, but these people matter.
If I have my way, they’ll be family someday, and I want them to like me.
I think they did before all this blew up, but even though Ivy insists they understand, I wouldn’t blame them if they saw me differently now.
Still nervous, I let her lead me in through the back. The kitchen smells incredible, and Helen’s at the stove while Tom sits at the table reading something on his phone. Helen turns when she hears us.
“Wyatt, hi,” she says warmly. She sets the spatula down and walks over, surprising me by pulling me into a hug. I let go of Ivy’s hand and hug her back, trying to hide how much that simple gesture means.
When she steps away, I glance toward Tom, expecting a colder reception.
“Wyatt,” he says with a curt nod. It’s not exactly friendly, but at least he acknowledged me, which is more than I probably deserve.
Ivy quickly takes my hand again, her fingers threading through mine.
“Mr. and Mrs. James,” I start, but Helen immediately cuts me a look. I correct myself quickly. “Sorry, Helen and Tom, I’m truly sorry about everything. I love Ivy more than anything, and I hate that she, and now you, are being dragged into this mess.”
Helen offers a soft smile as she returns to the stove. “We know you love her, Wyatt. That’s obvious to anyone watching. And this mess is not on you. It’s on that woman making these ridiculous claims.”
I let out a small breath of relief. “You’re right. Still… I do feel like I owe you both an apology.”
Before anyone can reply, a sharp knock echoes from the front door.
“They never stop, do they?” Tom mutters with a groan, clearly fed up.
“I’m calling Nash,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket. “Maybe he can get them moved along.”
I scroll through my contacts and tap on Nash’s name. He answers on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nash, it’s Wyatt. I’m at Ivy’s parents’ place, and there are reporters swarming the front yard. It’s getting out of hand. Can you come over and help clear them out?”
“Damn. Yeah, I’ll head over now. I need to talk to you anyway. I think I’ve found something on this woman.”
My eyes snap wide. “Seriously?”
“I’m still verifying a few things, but if I’m right, it’s huge. I’ll explain everything when I get there. What’s the address?”
I rattle it off and end the call, hope flaring in my chest.
“Nash is on his way,” I say, turning to Ivy. “And he thinks he’s got something big on the woman who caused all this.”
Her eyes light up. “Really? So, this might be ending soon?”
“God, I hope so,” I murmur, pulling her tightly into my arms.
“I hope so too,” Tom mutters. “I’d like my front lawn back.”
“Oh, ignore him,” Helen says with a roll of her eyes. “He’s just worried about the grass.”
Tom shakes his head. “I’m worried about my daughter, Helen,” he says sharply.
Then he turns his gaze to me, his tone softening a fraction.
“I like you, Wyatt. But Ivy’s my only daughter, and I want her to have the best. And right now,” he gestures toward the chaos outside, “this doesn’t look like the best.”
“Dad!” Ivy protests.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “It’s okay. Your dad’s right.”
Ivy steps forward, her eyes blazing with emotion as she lets go of my hand and walks toward her dad.
“No, Dad. You don’t get to say that, not when you don’t really know him. Wyatt is the best. What’s happening right now is a nightmare, but he didn’t ask for any of this.”
My heart swells with love for her as she defends me, but I don’t want her arguing with her father over me. “Ivy, it’s okay,” I cut in.
She looks over her shoulder. “It’s not.” She turns back to her dad.
“He’s not just some guy I’m dating. He’s the guy who coaches summer football camps for underprivileged kids and gives a stadium tour to a six-year-old boy whose mom can’t afford the entrance fee.
He’s someone who actually gives a damn.”
Tom goes to say something, but Ivy keeps on talking.
“He loves me, Dad. So much. And I love him too. You taught me to recognize when someone’s playing a game and when someone shows up. Wyatt shows up. Always.” She turns to look at me, her eyes softening. “He’s the one, and no matter what happens with this circus, nothing is going to change that.”
The room falls silent. The only noise is from the gentle sizzle of bacon on the stove.
Tom looks between us, his expression unreadable before he slowly nods.
“Well… if that’s how you feel,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat.
“Then I’ll try to see past the circus and remember the man you’re talking about. ”
She didn’t hesitate to defend me, her tone fierce and unwavering. She tells him exactly who she sees when she looks at me, and for the first time in twenty-four hours, I feel like I can breathe again.
The weight I’ve been carrying, the fear and guilt that I’ve dragged her into something that’s just too much to bear, lessens a little at her words. Other than my family, I don’t think anyone’s ever spoken about me like that. But Ivy sees me, and she’s not backing down.
God, I love her.
My heart is pounding so hard that I’m sure everyone can hear it. I want to grab her and kiss her, thank her for standing up for me. Tell her exactly what her words mean to me. How much she means to me.
Unable to stop myself, I reach for her anyway, not caring that we have an audience.
“You’re amazing, Ivy James. I love you so much.”
She smiles. “I love you too.”
And I know she means it.