Chapter 38 Ivy
IVY
Being back at the accident scene is dreadful. Although, it’s not like I don’t already see the crash in my head. And now in photographs.
I’ve lost track of time, but I’m not alone for long.
Luca doesn’t speak as he drops on the curb next to me, his head staying forward.
There’s a strange but comfortable silence that hangs between us.
When I peek over at him, I notice the swollen gash on his lip.
Without thinking, I reach over, my fingers touching just below the wound. “What happened?”
He doesn’t pull away. That’s when I realize the touch is too intimate, too natural to be shared between us, so I remove the contact.
That’s when I notice his fists are covered in gashes and dried blood.
He was obviously in a fight with someone.
That alone isn’t shocking. The serene, silent version is as he just sits with me.
He’s not pushing me to talk or to be alright.
Every time with Everett, he would try to fix me—he’d want me to talk or want me to forget.
That’s not possible. Somehow, Luca understands that.
It’s unsettling. My best friend should be here, not the boy I barely know.
I’m on my feet and driving away minutes later. Part of me is shocked Luca didn’t speak a word or try to stop me. The other piece is relieved, because it’s getting harder to walk away from that side of him. But I know the other version will surface soon enough.
Once I arrive at my house, I remain in my car for a few minutes until my phone rings. When I see it’s Uncle Shawn, my immediate instinct is to brace for bad news. But as soon as I answer, he responds with a chipper greeting and says, “I was just checking in on you.”
“I’m good.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. I was a little worried after the mishap with Grandma. Her doctor adjusted her medication, so hopefully that’ll help.”
“What was she talking about?” I ask, knowing I won’t get an answer. And I don’t. At least not a truthful one.
“Nothing at all. She doesn’t even know what she’s saying at times. In one ear and out the other is sadly the only way to manage the outbursts.”
Maybe I can find out the truth from her. I don’t want to upset her again but there’s something she was speaking about. And it wasn’t because her meds were off. And I believe Uncle Shawn is aware of that.
“I’ll stop by soon to see her.”
He confirms my suspicions as he tells me, “Give her a stretch. It’ll take some time before everything is regulated in her system.
But you’re welcome to join Kathleen and I anytime.
We miss having you around. Maybe we can catch a football game and watch you in action, cheering on your new team from the sidelines. ”
I tell him again, “No, I’m not cheering this year.”
“Oh, okay. Just give me a call whenever you’re ready to hang out. We can catch a movie or grab lunch. A fishing trip would be awesome. We haven’t been to the camp in forever, and I’m way overdue for a day on the water.”
“Sounds nice.” Except it wouldn’t be. Because he’s hiding something from me.
“Tell Zachary to give me a call. He owes me a lunch date. That boy is as hard to pin down as you.”
“I’ll tell him,” I respond before we end the call. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed the town car wasn’t here so that means Zachary isn’t home yet. We’ve hardly crossed paths. Since our last conversation, he’s avoided me even more.
I go straight to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Oddly, Anthony isn’t around, but the housekeeper is. She gives me a warm smile before continuing on with her task.
As soon as I head up the staircase, I hear my dad. “Ivy Bear, I didn’t know you were home already.” There’s a cheeriness to his voice, but it’s forced. My guess is it’s due to the man standing beside him who looks polished and regal. Everything my dad isn’t.
Dad motions to the man as I walk back down the few steps.
“Come meet our neighbor. Mr. Montclair stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood.”
Luca’s father?
His hand is outstretched for a few seconds before I take it. The little I know about the man, I don’t like. And he doesn’t appear to be the bring-the-new-neighbor-a-pie kind of guy. So, why is he here?
“Please, call me Donald.”
There are a few other names I’d prefer to call him.
“Donald has graciously invited us to join him for dinner tonight.” Dad is way too giddy at the suggestion.
“I’m busy.” I’m not. I just don’t have any desire to sit across from Donald or eat a meal at the Montclair lair.
“Ivy,” Dad scolds. “Don’t be disrespectful to our guest. He has generously extended us an invitation, and it’d be rude not to accept.”
The dude is accustomed to rudeness. I’ve met his son. “It’s also rude to change plans at the last minute without any regard for another’s schedule. Right, Ronald?”
Dad looks like he’s about to lose his shit as he says, “It’s Donald.”
However, Donald just lets out a little chuckle. “Touché. How about we plan for another night. What works with your schedule?”
Never.
Before I answer, Dad does, “We’ll be there tonight. Really, it’s not a problem. It’s a kind offer and we’d love to accept. Right, Ivy?”
Dad shuffles him away, showing him out before I can reply. As soon as he walks back in, he shouts, “What the fuck were you thinking being so disrespectful? I didn’t raise you to be a goddamn brat.”
My father cares more about the opinion of a man he’s known for mere minutes. He never cared what my mother thought or felt. “You’ll have to find some other way to impress your idol.”
Before I get the words out, I’m slapped across my face. The sting spreads over my cheek as tears well, and I snap my eyes shut. He won’t make me cry. My mom wasted enough tears on him.
When I don’t react and just watch him, his anger surges. Swiftly, his hand moves to my throat, backing me up against the wall. “You will be there tonight. You will be respectful. And you will put a fucking smile on your face.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Test me and find out. It’s amazing what money can buy.”
I cringe inwardly, hoping I was able to hide the response from him. “Not class apparently.”
His hand tightens on my throat, his reddened face in mine as he squeezes harder, and I struggle to take in a breath. He wants me to cry. He wants me to beg him for forgiveness. He wants to show me how threatening and powerful he is. Because he’s truly a weak, inadequate man.
I squeak out, “Do it.”
For a few seconds, I think he will. He’ll strangle me until I pass out and not wake up. Yet I still don’t feel scared.
Disappointment washes over me when he releases me and I’m able to wheeze in air to fill my lungs.
“If you don’t get in line and cooperate tonight, I will make the only person you care about pay the price.
I know how much you value your precious brother’s happiness.
All this can go away as quick as it appeared.
And I’ll make sure you’re just as miserable as your mother was.
So, put on a pretty dress and shake your ass for the Montclair boys, Ivy.
It’s the only thing you’re good for.” He stomps off as I slide down the wall until I hit the floor.
I don’t think I’ve ever loathed a human being as much as I hate my father.
How can the man who is a part of me hate me so much?