44. Hank
Chapter 44
Hank
T he cabin’s quiet. Again.
Wyatt’s off on a job down the mountain, Holt’s pulling a shift at the firehouse, and Ivy—she went with them. Can’t say that I blame her. I wouldn’t want to be stuck up here all by myself with me either.
But it leaves me trying to find something useful to do so I don’t sit here stewing in my own thoughts.
I split firewood for a while, the rhythmic crack of the axe helping to burn off the restless energy crawling under my skin. After that, I check the traps, make sure we’ve got enough food stocked, and take care of all the usual maintenance that comes with living up here.
It doesn’t help much.
Ivy’s been on my mind since the second she walked out that door this morning, but that’s nothing new. She’s on my mind every waking moment. Hell, she’s even in my dreams.
I’m halfway through reinforcing one of the window latches when the radio crackles to life. For a split second, my brain goes straight to the worst.
What’s happened?
Ivy. The babies.
Then a voice cuts through. “Hank? You there?” It’s Mason.
I snatch the radio off the table, pressing the button hard enough I hear the plastic creak. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?”
Mason exhales, short and clipped. “Nothin’ urgent. Just figured you’d want a heads-up.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “About what?”
There’s a pause, like he’s trying to find the right words. Then?—
“Ivy’s mother.”
I go still, my grip on the radio tightening. “She’s in town?”
“Yeah,” Mason says. “Rolled up in some big-ass, shiny SUV. Rumor has it she and Ivy had some big confrontation. Did not go well from what I hear.”
“Shit.” That knot in my stomach tightens. “How bad?”
Mason hesitates, which means it was bad. “Ivy held her own,” he says finally. “But she looked rattled. She left with Wyatt and Holt—headed toward the doc’s office, I think.”
I let out a breath, but it doesn’t do a damn thing to loosen the vice grip around my chest. At least she’s not alone. Wyatt and Holt’ll keep her steady.
Still.
“That all?” I ask, even though I know damn well Mason wouldn’t have called just for that.
Another pause. “Nah. Figured you oughta know her mother’s still stickin’ around. Word is, she’s askin’ questions. Tryin’ to figure out where Ivy’s been holed up.”
My pulse kicks up. “You think she’ll come up here?”
“Wouldn’t put it past her. Woman like that ain’t used to being told no.” Mason sighs. “I doubt she even knows what road to take, but if she finds someone willing to point her in the right direction...”
I don’t hear the rest because my brain’s already going a hundred miles an hour.
The idea of her leaving—of her packing up, climbing into that SUV, and disappearing back into the life she left behind—hits me like a punch to the gut.
No.
No, that doesn't sit right with me.
I drag a hand down my face. “Appreciate the heads-up, Mase.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.
“You gonna do something about it?” Mason’s tone is pointed.
I glare at the radio like he can see me through it. “Ain’t your business.”
Mason chuckles, but there’s no real humor in it. “Uh-huh. I’ll radio if I hear anything else.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I toss the radio onto the table and start pacing. Again. I’m going to wear a groove in the floor at this rate.
I’ve been avoiding Ivy for days, letting my own damn pride keep me from facing what I did, from owning up to the way I pushed her away. The more time I’ve had to sit with it, the more I’ve realized how much of an asshole I’ve been. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
And now, I might’ve wasted all that time just to lose her for good. Her mother may succeed in dragging her back to that world she was so desperate to get away from.
I run a hand through my hair, over my beard, back through my hair again. I’ve never been good with words. Never been good with feelings, either. But I have to figure out how to fix this. How to make her see that I was an idiot and that I want her here.
I want her. The babies. All of it.
I want the kind of life I never thought I could have—the kind with a family, with love, with more than just an empty cabin and a cat that mildly tolerates me.
When I hear Wyatt’s truck coming up the drive, my heart jumps up to my throat and sits there, nearly choking me. The engine cuts off, and a second later, the door swings open. Wyatt’s voice carries through the cold air, warm and full of so much damn joy.
“C’mon, City Girl,” he says, laughter in his voice. “Let me love on you before you go passin’ out on me.”
Ivy’s laugh is soft, tired, but real. “You’ve been loving on me all day, Wyatt.”
“Yeah, well, you and the cubs deserve it. Not every day a man gets to see his babies for the first time.”
I close my eyes, swallowing hard.
They heard the heartbeats.
I should’ve been there.
The front door creaks open, and I force myself to turn, to look. Wyatt’s got Ivy wrapped up in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head like he can’t help himself. They make it look so easy. It guts me.
Because that should be me, too.
Wyatt clocks me standing there, and his grin dims just a little. “Hey, Hank.” His voice is still easy, still warm, but a little less soft.
Ivy stiffens, just for a second, before she pulls away from Wyatt and sets her coat on the hook. “Hey.” She won’t look at me.
I don’t blame her.
I clear my throat, feeling like my own damn body is too tight, too heavy. “How’d it go?”
She hesitates, like she’s not sure she wants to answer. But then Wyatt—always the talker—jumps in. “Good, man. Real good. Heard both heartbeats, and those little beans are growing like weeds.” He wraps an arm around Ivy’s shoulders, squeezing her to his side. “Doctor said she’s healthy, babies are healthy, everything’s lookin’ great,” Wyatt crows, holding up a grainy sonogram picture like it’s a winning lottery ticket.
I force a smile, though it feels like my face might crack. “Congrats.”
Ivy’s eyes meet mine for a second, and I swear I see something there—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. But it’s gone before I can figure it out, and she’s looking at Wyatt again, laughing at one of his dumb jokes.
Wyatt pins the sonogram to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a bear, and my heart stutters. I want to tell Ivy how sorry I am, how wrong I was, how much I want her here with me.
But the words stick in my throat, and all that comes out is, “Ivy, can we talk?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “I can’t right now, Hank.”
I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. But it still feels like a kick in the ribs.
Wyatt stretches, rolling his shoulders. “I’m gonna grab a shower, change into clothes that don’t smell like a damn toilet.” He presses a kiss to Ivy’s temple before heading toward the bathroom.
Then it’s just me and Ivy, standing there in the kitchen. She watches him go, and for a split second, her eyes flick to mine then away again. The silence is thick enough to choke on. She’s staring at the sonogram, and I’m staring at her, and I can’t take it anymore.
“Ivy,” I say, my voice rough, “please.”
She sighs, turning away from the fridge. “What, Hank?”
I don’t even know how to start, how to say everything I need to. Sorry doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing does. But I have to try.
“I was wrong,” I tell her, forcing the words out. I gesture vaguely toward the sonogram, toward her. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”
Her expression doesn’t change, doesn’t give me anything to hold on to. “You did, though.”
“I know.” Guilt sits heavy in my chest. “And I hate myself for it.”
She crosses her arms, and that hurt I thought I saw earlier? It’s not hidden now. It’s right there in the way she won’t quite look at me.
“I needed you, Hank,” she says quietly, “and you made me feel like a mistake.”
I flinch. “You’re not.” My voice comes out raw. “I swear, Ivy, you’re not.”
She shakes her head, stepping back. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Ivy—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “You don’t just get to decide you’re ready now. I’m not.”
She disappears down the hall, and I’m left standing there, feeling like someone just ripped my insides out.
A of couple hours later, Holt’s truck is kicking up snow as it rolls into the driveway. But there’s another vehicle pulling up right behind him.
Big. Black. Expensive.
Shit.
I don’t need to see who’s behind the wheel to know exactly who it is.
I step out onto the porch just as Holt slams his door shut, his whole body coiled tight, already preparing for a fight. Wyatt’s right behind me. His hair’s still damp from the shower, and a towel is slung over his shoulder.
Ivy’s mother climbs out of her ridiculous SUV, looking like she’d rather swallow bugs than be here. Woman looks like she took a wrong turn on her way to a red carpet. I can see the resemblance to Ivy, but this woman is so airbrushed and botoxed, it’s only slight. Her hair is perfect, her makeup flawless, and her eyes are colder than a winter up on this mountain.
“Gentlemen,” she says, looking us over like we’re something she scraped off her shoe. “I assume you know why I’m here.”
Holt crosses his arms. “Oh, we know.”
Wyatt snorts, rubbing his jaw. “Damn shame you drove all the way up here just to turn around and head back.”
Her eyes narrow. “Ivy is coming with me.”
“No, she’s not,” I say, my voice flat.
Her lips curl like I’ve just personally offended her. “This is kidnapping.”
Wyatt barks out a laugh. “Kidnapping? Lady, she’s not locked in a basement somewhere. She’s here because she wants to be.”
“She’s confused,” her mother snaps. “Clearly she’s being manipulated?—”
“She’s ours.” The words are out before I can stop them, and I don’t regret them for a damn second.
Her head snaps toward me, eyes flashing with something between fury and disgust. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I say, jaw tight. “She’s ours.”
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, before she lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, this is just perfect. Another of Ivy’s ridiculous messes.”
Holt steps forward, his voice a low warning. “Watch yourself.”
But she’s on a roll now. “Allowing Caleb’s mistakes to go public was bad enough and then disappearing like an angry child—do you have any idea how much work we had to do to clean up that mess? And now this? Shacking up with multiple men? Letting them use her like this?” She shakes her head, her lip curling. “It’s disgusting.”
My blood goes red-hot, boiling under my skin.
Wyatt moves first, taking a step forward, but I throw an arm out, stopping him. My stomach is a knot of fury, but my voice comes out low and even. “You don’t know a damn thing about her.”
Her mother scoffs. “I raised her.”
“No,” I grind out. “You shaped her. Mapped out every step, every choice, every part of her life. But you don’t know her. Not really.” I take a slow step forward, leveling her with a look that has made grown men back down. “And if you think for one second that you’re gonna come here and rip her away from the life she chose , you’re even more clueless than I thought.”
Her nostrils flare. “This will not end well. And she will come home with her tail between her legs expecting me to clean up after her. Again.”
A muscle jumps in my jaw. I don’t give a shit what this woman thinks about me, but I hate that she’s using us as ammo against Ivy.
“You’re trespassing,” Holt cuts in. “And we don’t take kindly to that around here.”
She lifts her chin. “Ivy is my daughter.”
“And she’s a grown woman,” Wyatt fires back. “One who doesn’t want anything to do with you. Now, I suggest you get back in that overpriced tank and drive your ass back to wherever you came from before we call the sheriff.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Wyatt smirks. “Lady, I’m halfway to dialing. Sheriff’s a friend. So’s half the damn town.” He gestures toward the house. “You’re not welcome here. And if you push it, I guarantee you won’t like what happens next.”
For a second, I think she’s gonna argue. But then she exhales sharply, like we’re inconveniencing her , and turns on her heel, stalking back to her SUV.
“Give Ivy my love,” she tosses over her shoulder before slamming the door shut.
We stand there, watching as she throws the car into reverse and tears out of the driveway.
Holt shakes his head. “She’s gonna be a problem.”
Wyatt sighs. “Yeah. But not today.”
They head back toward the house, talking quietly, but I barely hear them. My feet move on their own, carrying me inside, straight to Ivy’s door. I press my forehead against the wood, breathing deeply. Listening for any little sign of her.
That’s all I get now—scraps. A glance. A muttered word. A door closing in my face.
And I hate it.
I don’t want scraps.
I don’t want distance, or cold shoulders, or the weight of my own damn mistakes pressing down on me every second of the day.
I don’t want to push her away anymore.
I don’t want to lose Holt and Wyatt.
And, God help me, I don’t want to lose Ivy. Or the babies.
I press my forehead harder against the wood, wishing I could say the right thing, do the right thing. But I’ve never been good at that. I’ve always been better at pushing people away.
I’ve never felt so damn helpless in my life.
The door jerks open, and I almost fall into her room. Ivy’s standing there, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. I may have.
“Why are you mouth breathing outside my room like some creep?” she asks, her tone sharp but not as cold as I expected.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I’m a big, dumb idiot, and she knows it.
She’s wearing these tiny shorts and a form-fitting top, her hair pulled up in a messy knot. I can see her belly, rounder than the last time I really looked at her, and it makes my heart trip over itself.
“Ivy,” I start, but the words still won’t come.
I want to tell her how sorry I am, how much I want her. I want to tell her that I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. But all I can do is stare at her, drinking in the sight of her, and I can’t stop myself.
I grab her face and kiss her.
She gasps against my mouth, surprised but not pulling away. Her hands come up, pressing against my chest like she might push me back, but I kiss her harder, trying to pour everything I can’t say into it.
Her lips soften under mine, and I feel something crack open inside me—a hope, a chance, a spark I thought I’d lost. I pull her closer, my thumb brushing her cheek.
I kiss her deeper, feeling like I can finally breathe again, and when she kisses me back I don’t think I could be any happier.