Chapter Ten Ivy
CHAPTER TEN
Ivy
“ J esus Christ … what happened?” Wade crouches down beside me, swiping my damp hair off my forehead.
“I was teaching Nutmeg to navigate in the rain.”
“At ten o’clock at night?”
“Well no, I was out right after I talked to you. I couldn’t unwind and I heard the rain. It’s beneficial for them you know, to learn to navigate in it—oww.” I wince as I try to move my ankle that I’ve already pulled out of my boot.
Wade moves down to it. “What did you do? Ivy, your ankle is swollen … I think I need to take you to the hospital to get it checked out.”
“Hospital? No, no it’s fine. I—fuck,” I mutter as I try to grab hold of the wall to help me stand, but Wade is faster, gripping under my elbows.
“Uh-uh. Nope. We’re going. Now,” Wade commands in that voice that tells me not to argue.
“I don’t—I don’t have insurance. I’m trying to save …” I’m still helping my mom with some of her bills since she spends her government money on booze.
“Nonsense. It happened at work so the ranch will pay the bill. Now whether you’re done protesting or not, I’m going to get you to the truck.”
I nod and lean back against the wall. Wade disappears for all of one minute and returns with a bottle of water, an ice pack, and a dry, warm coat. He gently pulls mine off that got wet while I hobbled here from the barn. Jo is gone and CeCe is at Nash’s with Mabel. I’d assumed Wade would be home and was surprised to find he wasn’t when I got back.
“Okay, let’s go,” he says, his voice gruff and rushed, as he hands me the ice pack and curls his powerful arms under my legs. I wrap my arms around his neck and settle into his warm, strong chest.
“It was so stupid. I didn’t think to check the radar, it was such a nice, crisp night. I figured, why not?” I feel my cheeks heat just thinking about the reason I was all keyed up and having trouble getting to sleep. Him and the way he looked at me today before he left the ranch in a hurry. The way his eyes raked over my body for just a split second. Just long enough for me to notice and have it send goosebumps over my skin.
I look up at him for a moment. It’s not so bad being in Wade’s arms with his warm, fur-lined flannel coat around me. He sets me on the passenger seat of his truck. The scent of leather and spices with a hint of mint fills my senses. It’s fresh and clean. It smells like Wade.
He hops into the driver’s side, looks at me, and with a sort of huff, he speaks, “You should definitely bring your legs this way”—Wade gestures to the bench seat between us—“prop them up here, to keep it elevated.” He turns the key, and the truck roars to life.
“Gravity will make it swell more if you don’t,” he adds.
I nod and pull my other boot off, then lift my legs to rest them across the front seat, doing a little dance of trying to place them so my feet don’t touch Wade’s muscular thigh. The ice slides off my ankle but he catches it, then gently lifts both my feet onto his lap and meets my gaze in the dark cab of his truck.
“ Elevated ,” he repeats, holding the ice to my ankle.
I just nod in response, because when Wade’s voice hits that deep octave I just have no words and there’s no room to argue. We begin our drive, and my feet in his lap make me nervous so I start to tell him what happened.
“There was no thunder the whole ride. I saw the lightning as I was just getting back to the barn, but it was too late. I couldn’t dismount fast enough, Cosmic spooked, and I just landed funny on my ankle trying to hurry to get off him. I don’t know how I managed to get him secure but I did it and then … I started walking. It took me a while. Maybe a half hour to get back to the cabin. I figured you’d be home.”
“I had to go to my ex’s for something—you should’ve called me.” His jaw sets and flexes. I can tell he’s upset with me.
I huff out a breath in response and toss my damp hair into a bun on top of my head.
“I didn’t bring my phone. Once I realized you weren’t here, I was just taking a minute to rest on your porch and then I was going to go back to my cabin and try to sleep, see how it was in the morning. It was just careless all around. I’m really so sorry for all of this,” I say, feeling so damn stupid and irresponsible.
The dark country cruises by us as I continue, looking out the front window.
“I like to ride in the rain. I used to do it with my dad, it was kind of our thing,” I say, because I feel like him driving me to the hospital forty minutes away at ten at night seems like it may need a deeper explanation.
“Did you have your own ranch?” he asks right away.
I answer, grateful for the distraction. “No, but we had a small house on about ten acres. My dad bought my sister and I our own horses. He loved animals.”
Wade’s eyes are fixed out the window on the rainy countryside.
“I’m really sorry you lost him. That must have been so hard at that age,” he says.
The lump in my throat grows and tears sting my eyes. I swallow down the urge to cry.
“It’s been a long time since anyone has ever said that to me. Even when he died, I don’t think I heard it much,” I say quietly.
“Why not?” Wade asks, sounding even more frustrated than normal.
I look over at him to try to gage his mood, to see if this is his way of distracting me from the pain or if he’s truly interested. It’s impossible to tell so I take a deep breath and tell him a little bit of the story.
“After my dad died, my mom went off the rails, daily glasses of wine turned into bottles and eventually we just lost our family nest-egg. The horses, the land, the house, she couldn’t pay for it. By the time I was sixteen, Winding Eagles trailer park became our home.”
Wade is silent beside me as his jaw tenses while he stares out the windshield, focused on the rain.
“I went from grieving my best friend to becoming my mother’s babysitter of sorts, I guess, my little sister’s caregiver, and then eventually, both of their financial support. I worked two jobs after school until Cassie was old enough to start working and contribute. My mom worked odd jobs for a while. The depression she fought after my dad died just consumed her.”
Something in Wade’s face softens.
“My mother isn’t a bad person. She has the biggest heart but my dad was the love of her life. It was like her will to live was lost. She fell into the darkest hole and just couldn’t or wouldn’t come out.”
“I know that loss. My mom says a piece of her died with my father,” Wade offers.
I nod in response.
“Some people are just stronger than others. Your mom is such a strong woman, I admire her,” I say truthfully. “She didn’t cower when her husband died, she took care of his family. I didn’t know her before but it seems like maybe somehow she grew stronger.”
“She has her moments but she is a tough cookie, I’ll give her that. She’s also kind of a control freak, she’d want to make sure us kids were all okay,” Wade adds.
I giggle. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree then, is what you’re saying.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m the most easygoing guy around.” Wade says it so seriously it makes me grin. “You’re not going to call me on my bullshit, Trouble?” he asks.
“I’ll give you a break since you’re driving me to the hospital.” I smile, then add, “But only this once.”
Wade nods, back to serious.
“Fair enough. So, what now?” He continues, “Is there a chance for your mom to get sober, maybe start fresh?”
I turn to look out the window. I wish for that every day.
“My mom’s tried to sober up many times. Every time I hope this is the time she makes it, but so far it never has been. I’m still helping her out when she needs it, now that my sister has moved, I’m all my mom has.”
Wade nods and changes the heavy subject. “How is it feeling?” he asks. “Is the ice helping at all?” He nods toward my foot in his lap.
“I think a little. I’m so sorry, Wade.”
“Stop apologizing for your ankle, fuck. It was an accident,” he says as he reaches down and gently squeezes my calf.
I can tell instantly that Wade doesn’t reach out and touch people often; his touch is cautious, but even with the pain I’m in, this touch resonates with me, it’s oddly comforting. I look up at him and my eyes meet his in the dark for a fleeting moment. His hand is still resting on my leg.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks
“I don’t think so, but we still have thirty minutes left in this drive,” I say quietly, grinning to lighten the mood.
He shifts the ice on my ankle as I take a breath, feeling rewarded with the hint of a grin I see on his face. He squeezes my calf one more time before he lets go and returns his hand to the wheel.
“Yeah, you’re more than a little accident-prone.”
“Yes,” I say honestly. “All my life. Tripping- up- the-stairs expert right here,” I say, raising one hand.
“Well, maybe don’t touch anything. Just keep your hands in your lap,” he says.
I smile back at him and exaggerate folding my hands in my lap.
Must be a world record. For the third time in as many days, there are the hint of those dimples again.