Chapter 17
Two days had crawled by since Sarah’s dinner invitation had knocked him sideways, and Ryder’s jaw still ached from holding back too many words. He steered his truck down Aurora Cove’s main drag, eyes sweeping the sidewalks with the same methodical precision he used to scan open water.
No flash of Ivy’s city coat. No glint of blonde hair.
Good.
Yesterday he’d spotted George leaving the Aurora Cove Inn with Sinclair, their heads almost touching in close conversation and he’d taken a detour down a side street rather than risk an encounter.
In forty-eight hours, he’d heard her name more than he could stand—Caleb spotting her at Benji’s, Bishop seeing her in the park with Jack.
Every mention of her left questions burning in his throat. How did she look? What did she say?
But he never asked.
Relief loosened his shoulders when he pulled into the preschool parking lot without glimpsing her. At least he could collect Ellie without the awkwardness of another run-in. Tonight’s family dinner would be torture enough.
The preschool gym buzzed with the bedlam fueled by the unstoppable energy of under-fives.
The scent of fresh popcorn mixed with the tang of craft glue and marker fumes.
Children’s laughter ricocheted off the high ceiling, punctuated by the occasional adult voice calling for order.
Construction paper hearts and rainbow cutouts dangled from the rafters, dancing in drafts.
Mrs. Thorne, the headmistress, intercepted him with a bright smile. “Mr. Meyer! So glad you made it. Ellie’s been having the best time at the craft station.”
She gestured to the far corner.
Ryder followed her hand—and froze.
Ivy kneeled at a low table, a paintbrush in her grip as she carefully drew across Ellie’s cheek. His daughter sat stock-still, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Ivy’s lips moved as though she were spinning some story, just for her.
“What the—” He bit back the curse and forced a smile. “What luck.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Pull it together, Meyer. “It’s great to be here on such a fantastic day.” He waved his arm vaguely, as if he’d lost control of it.
Mrs. Thorne’s smile wavered, but she nodded. “Yes, it is.”
“Right. I better go collect Ellie.” Before I say something stupid.
His pulse hammered as he forced his legs to move. Ivy’s laugh carried across the gym, light and warm, and his stomach flipped traitorously.
She called it a mistake. She’s leaving.
So why did it feel like his entire world narrowed to the sight of her with his daughter?
“Daddy!” Ellie waved wildly. “Ivy make me butterfly!”
Purple-and-gold wings spread across her cheeks, tiny antennae curling above her brows.
Ryder’s throat constricted. The sight knocked the air out of him—how small she still was, how much of his heart she already carried.
He switched his gaze to Ivy. Glitter clung to her hair, catching the gym’s light, a streak of silver dusting her cheekbone. She glanced up, eyes serious, and for one beat of his heart the fair’s hubbub faded.
His hand twitched at his side. He wanted to brush the glitter from her cheek—like it meant something, like she was his.
Ridiculous.
He curled his fingers into a fist and let go slowly.
“Hi.” Ivy set the brush down carefully, her voice polite—but her eyes gave her away.
“Ivy.” He ground his voice into neutral. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Louisa roped me in a few days ago.” Ivy tipped her head toward the ring toss table, where Louisa waved at him like a lunatic. “Apparently, they were desperate.”
Of course. Louisa, Sarah—half the damn town seemed invested in Ivy’s schedule.
“It’s been fun.” Ivy smiled, quick and genuine. “Seems I’m far too conservative.”
“You look—” He stopped himself. “You’ve got glitter. In your hair.”
“Oh.” Her hand flew up, fingers brushing through the strands. “Occupational hazard.”
Their eyes caught. Held.
“More glitter,” Ellie announced solemnly, breaking the spell. “More.”
Ivy laughed, the sound pulling at him like a hook under the ribs. Whatever words he’d had ready scattered like leaves in the wind.
A group of older boys thundered past, chasing each other with foam swords. The craft supplies jumped and rattled as they clipped the table’s edge. Ivy curved an arm around Ellie, tucking her close until the commotion rushed by.
His chest locked, breath lodged in his throat.
A small gesture. Gone in seconds.
But it slammed into Ryder, sharp as a blade. She hadn’t hesitated. She’d shielded his little girl.
“Daddy!” Ellie thrust a sagging paper heart at him, encrusted with glitter and still-wet glue. “For you!”
Ryder crouched, forcing a smile around the lump in his throat. “It’s beautiful, baby. Did you make this all by yourself?”
“All sparkles.” Her head bobbed.
He glanced up, catching Ivy watching them, something vulnerable in her expression.
“Thank you for helping her.”
“I enjoyed helping out.” Ivy shrugged, almost shy.
Ellie’s lip wobbled when he reached for her coat. “No me go now, Daddy. More sparkles.”
“Time to go home, bug.” He slung her backpack over his shoulder, every nerve alive with Ivy’s gaze. “But guess what? We’ll see Ivy again tonight at Auntie Sarah’s.”
The words were meant for Ellie, but his gaze landed on Ivy. She met his eyes for a second too long. Her lips parted as if she was going to say something—but didn’t.
“Come on, butterfly girl.” He held out his hand. “Time to go.”
The walk to the lot felt like a mile. Every step dragged him farther from Ivy’s laugh, from the warmth in her eyes when she looked at Ellie, from the dangerous rightness he’d felt seeing them together.
He buckled Ellie into her car seat, only half-hearing her chatter. He told himself to feel relief—Ivy had made it clear, she was leaving, end of story. That should’ve been enough. But his body didn’t buy it, every muscle braced like he was already losing something he hadn’t even had.
The echo of her laugh, the memory of her hand on his daughter, pressed under his skin.
Like she’d slipped past every defense straight into the place he’d sworn to keep locked forever.