5. Fight for Me
FIGHT FOR ME
Ivy
An hour-long steaming bubble bath later and my legs were shaved, my hair was clean, and I was finally warm again.
I don’t know what possessed me to sit on that bench at the park.
I’d been walking to Buns of Delight to get myself a fancy coffee and say hi to Ember when I remembered it was Friday morning, and she let one of her employees open, not normally coming in until around ten to do an inventory count and orders.
Disappointment hit, and the bench just seemed like a solid alternative to returning home to an apartment that felt vacant, even with my boyfriend passed out on the bed still. Ten minutes into my deep and tumultuous thoughts, Oliver and Sunny had shown up.
Sunny—or Hudson, if you were anyone who wasn’t me—was easily one of the coolest kids I’d ever met, and I spent a lot of time helping my parents out and volunteering time at the school when they needed it. Kid experience wasn’t something I lacked.
He was one of those kids who chose to be quiet and watch everyone from afar. What people assumed was shyness was him taking mental notes on everyone and everything that surrounded him. But once he opened up? Pure sunshine, and then he never stopped shining.
His father, on the other hand, was something else entirely.
Oliver Carragan was trouble in a six-foot-four frame of cowboy muscle.
Deep blue eyes that looked like his brothers’ from a distance, but up close they had small flecks of green in them.
He kept his hair cut short like he was still in the military, and his beard ranged from just above his chest to cut close to his face.
Today though, it had been only just past his jaw.
He was someone I found my eyes being drawn to no matter how much I tried not to.
Someone I had no business staring at as much as I found myself doing so, my love of a great taboo age gap romance clearly messing with my internal fantasies.
In my mind, Oliver was this forbidden topic that I just knew if I stared too long at, I’d fall into the hole that was his life and history—a hole I’d never escape.
He’d become my next fixation, and I simply couldn’t allow it.
Fixating on werewolf romances was one thing. Fictional men were one thing. But a real one? That wasn’t something I allowed myself. He was also easily a decade older than I was, and from what everyone told me, he was still in love with his wife.
Emily.
I’d never had the guts to ask anyone what her name was. I didn’t want to dig into anything about Oliver Carragan. Everything I knew was just bits and pieces I’d picked up at functions or in passing conversations.
The love he had for her made my chest ache. Not in the sense of jealousy, but then again, maybe it was. I was jealous in a way—I wanted someone to love me that much. So much that even in death they thought about me the moment they woke up and didn’t want anyone else.
Blowing out a breath, I slipped into my favorite boy short undies and matching white bra. The outfit tonight was simple and cute. Ripped jeans, my white sparkly cowgirl boots, and a pink top that deserved an award for being perfectly stunning.
Would I freeze outside? Yes. But that was what heat was for.
Shania Twain filled the apartment as I put the finishing touches on my makeup.
The front door clicked open, and I peeked around the bathroom doorframe to see Todd walk in. Coffee in hand and a smile on his face, I knew emotional whiplash was coming my way before he even spoke.
“Hey babe! I brought you a coffee. Your coffee friend still had some peppermint shit left, so I snagged you one.” He sauntered over, a Buns of Delight cup in hand.
His eyes ran up and down my body before returning to my face as he set the coffees and his phone on the countertop.
“We should get you fancy lingerie instead of the boring shit.”
My eyes looked down and then into the full-length bathroom mirror as I turned side to side. Did I look bad in this bra and panty set? It was one of my favorites.
Personally, I’d never been much of a lace or frills kinda girl. I liked it simple. Bralettes worked great because I didn’t have a very large chest, and boy shorts or a cute pair of cheeky panties looked great on my booty.
“Ivy!” Todd hollered, his head popping out of the bedroom as he slid on a clean shirt. “Are we going out tonight?”
“Sorry. Yes. Dancing tonight. And thank you for the coffee.” I smiled sweetly as I took a small sip of it. He walked back in and grabbed his phone as it lit up with a string of texts from ‘work wife’.
“Cool. Texting some of the guys,” he muttered as he started typing on his phone. “And turn this shit off.”
There was a sinking feeling in my gut as I tapped pause on my phone. Back in front of the mirror, refusing to waste any more time, I slid into my jeans and braided my hair into two French braids, while simultaneously shoving down any feelings that attempted to emerge over what was on his phone.
After all, my girls were waiting for me.
The next ten songs on the jukebox were all mine. I spun around, a third Cape Cod in my hand, a tiny straw periodically making its way to my mouth as I turned and tried to clap my hands noiselessly together with the beat—although it was hard when the drink mattered more to me than clapping.
I knew every dance. Picked each song to perfection. A light buzz permeated through my head, and the thoughts of what my boyfriend was doing were long gone.
As the song ended and the next queued up, Aspen threw her arms in the air as sweat poured down her face, a huff escaping her lips.
“Fuck, Ivy. You didn’t even throw one slow one in to catch our breath? This is Zumba all over again. I need water.” She walked over to where we were all seated, Rowan already smirking and holding up a cup of water for his sweaty fiancée.
It took me a few more turns to finally find Todd. He never sat with us at our table, always picking a spot at the bar and talking to his friends. Probably why he referred to Ember as my ‘coffee friend’ instead of by her name.
Normally I floated between three points in the bar—my friends, the dance floor, and him—only to circle back and do it all over again.
Walking over, I stood behind him, leaning my cheek against his back. “Hey! Come dance with me,” I pleaded as I peeked around his shoulder at him.
“Play some decent music, babe, and I may,” he replied, taking another swig of his beer.
Pouting slightly, I finished off my drink and set it next to him on the bar-top for Damien, the bartender and owner, to grab.
I was notorious for setting my glass down and then thinking about it at three in the morning when I laid in bed, the insomnia hitting and the buzz leaving, my inner waitress having a meltdown that I just left my glass for Damien to pick up later.
“Why don’t you wanna dance with me?” I turned my body to face him, leaning against the bar-top as I tried not to sound too whiney, but sounded whiney anyway.
“I’m waiting for my friends, and we’re going to go play some pool.”
“You’re not staying?”
Todd shrugged and took another sip of his beer without speaking.
“I thought we were going to dance and spend time together tonight.”
He rolled his eyes before finishing off his beer and setting the now-empty bottle down on the bar.
“One dance, babe.”
I squealed and grabbed his hand, hopping off the chair and pulling him towards the floor before he could change his mind and bail out. The song was already half over, but I didn’t even care. I just wanted to spend time with him.
His hand wrapped around my waist and my arms went up around his neck, a smile overtaking my lips before I could even think to stop it.
“Thank you,” I said as he pulled me against him and started swaying to the song.
Todd shrugged. “No biggie, babe. Just a quick dance. Wouldn’t want my main girl to feel left out when I go hang out with the guys.”
The smile faltered for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety or the liquor speaking. It could’ve easily been a combination of the both, but the words tumbled from my mouth in a way that normally only happened in the books.
“Main girl implies you have other girls, Todd.”
He stopped swaying, staring down at me, his brows pulled together. “Really? Are we doing this right the fuck now, Ivy?”
“Doing what?” I pleaded. “I’m sorry. Just forget it. Let’s just dance, please.” My fingers twirled the hair at the nape of his neck, but he didn’t move.
“No, Ivy. Fuck this shit. I’m going out with the guys. Don’t wait up.” He pulled away, and I watched as he stormed off the dance floor, shaking his head, as I bit my tongue to keep any more sassy quips from making the situation even worse.
I could’ve cried. I could’ve screamed at him in the middle of the bar.
Honestly, a small part of me wanted to. Some toxic, insane part of me wanted to see him angry. I wanted him to care enough about me to stay here in the middle of the bar and fight for me. Even if he was fighting me in order to love me.
Maybe he’d been right all this time, though. Maybe I was the problem. Maybe I was a toxic spoiled princess who just craved attention.