Chapter 8
EIGHT
IVY
“Ivy. Where’s dinner?” Tyler whines.
I stare at the wall, ignoring him. Ajax is right. I deserve more than this. My mother died. My father mourned. But it’s time for him to get his act together and be the parent in this house.
That includes pulling my brother into line.
I’m not working for him. I live here. I pay rent, which is more than Tyler does.
But no more.
“Ivy?”
“Everything’s in the fridge and the cupboards. I’m sure you’ll work out what you want. I’ve got work.”
It’s Friday, and it’s taken all week to get my car back. As old as she is, she’s always been reliable, but it bothers me that one day she’ll die for good and I won’t have a replacement. I’ve got enough saved for another second-hand car, but that’s my escape town fund.
“You’re not cooking dinner?”
“No. You’re old enough to fend for yourself.”
“Dad. Ivy’s not making dinner.”
I roll my eyes as Dad appears in the doorway.
“What’s this?”
“I’m going to work. Make toasted sandwiches if you want. There’s plenty of bread and cheese. I’m out.”
I don’t hang around to hear any more arguments. Grabbing my bag, I head to the door and go straight to my car, driving off before anyone can complain.
I’m rapidly reaching breaking point, and I need a real break.
Sometimes I dream of a holiday somewhere on a beach with nothing to do, but I know at this point it’s just a dream.
Once I get to work, I keep busy. I’m not sure the bar has ever been so shiny and polished. But it’s to take my mind off things—the bar’s usually clean and tidy.
“Are you okay?”
I blink rapidly.
Ajax sits at the bar, his head tilted, a small smile on his lips.
“I’m fine, thanks. The usual?”
His eyebrows rise, but he says nothing else—just studies me with those deep blue eyes of his. I’m ashamed of how my family treat me, and Ajax had a front row seat earlier this week.
“Yes, please.”
I grab a glass and start pouring the beer. “Do you ever have any work on the farm?”
He looks at me, unblinking, the scrutiny continuing. “You after a job?”
I swallow hard. I’ve never worked on a farm, but there’s got to be something out there, right? Some light at the end of the tunnel.
Without it, I’m trapped.
“Yeah.”
“Leaving the pub?”
I shake my head. “No, I can’t afford to do that. But it’s part-time, and I need to earn more.”
He takes a long sip of his beer. “You want to leave home.”
My heart sinks. I hate that he knows, but at the same time, it’s almost a relief that I’m not alone. “Well, yeah.”
He nods. “I get that. I’ll talk to the others. There are always a ton of things that need doing.”
“Really?”
A flicker of a smile crosses his handsome face. “Shane’s extra cautious with Jessie. Makes it hard to find people.”
For a moment, I hold my breath. Would he let me onto the farm in the first place?
“But he knows you too. It’ll work in your favour.”
And then he winks at me.
My heart thuds.
It’s not that I haven’t had boyfriends—even though the pickings are slim here. But Ajax is just such a … man. Tall, and solid. There’s a height difference, but if I’m honest with myself, I think it’s hot.
He makes me feel safe.
“Thanks, Ajax.”
“Everything will work out, Ivy. You’ll see.”
And on that cryptic note, he turns and walks over to the corner where Digby and Cookie sit. Mitchell must have served them.
Huh.
Ajax waited for me.
A smile tugs at my lips, and I give into it. Maybe there’s hope.
Maybe he does like me back.
At the end of the night, the others have gone, but Ajax waits. He’s the last to leave, and he keeps on waiting until I’ve started my car and left the carpark.
His thoughtfulness leaves me warm inside.
The house is quiet when I get home—Dad and Tyler must be asleep. I sink into my bed and drift off, dreaming of the big man who cares enough to take care of me.
In the morning, I feel good for the first time in forever.
I snuggle under my covers when my alarm goes off and allow myself to snooze.
By the time I’m out of bed, the clock tells me it’s just after ten. It’s surprising that Dad and Tyler haven’t harassed me for breakfast yet.
The kitchen’s empty when I walk into it, and instead of just the usual toast, I open the fridge and grab bacon and eggs.
Before long, the bacon’s sizzling and I’ve scrambled the eggs.
“You’re cooking bacon?” Tyler asks.
“Uh-huh.”
He claps his hands together and takes a seat at the dining table. “Guess you had to make up for not cooking dinner last night.”
“No, this is because I feel like it.” I smile. Nothing’s getting me down today. I won’t let it.
Dad joins us, but says nothing. Maybe he’s sulking because I left them to fend for themselves.
I sit down once the food is on the table, and we all dig in.
“This is so good, love,” Dad says.
His praise doesn’t make me feel good anymore. I think every child wants to impress their dad, but when you feel taken advantage of, that disappears real fast.
“It should be. It’s not like there was dinner last night,” Tyler grumbles.
“What do you mean? I told you there was plenty of food.”
Dad places his hand over mine. “We agreed you’d cook before you went to work.”
I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms. “When did we agree that?”
His expression blanks. I can’t believe we’ve never discussed this. After Mum died, and Dad persuaded me to stay, I just fell into the role of homemaker. But not just homemaker. It’s like I’m the mother to both of these men, who take advantage of the fact that I love them.
“I …”
“We never agreed to this, Dad. You used to help Mum around the house, but neither you nor Tyler do anything. I wanted a life. I wanted to go to university and study and be more than this. But you talked me into staying. And what for? I feel like Cinderella, but you’re my own blood taking the piss.”
Tyler gapes at me. I’ve never stood up for myself like this. I never wanted to hurt Dad. But I’m done being hurt.
“But you take such good care of us, Ivy,” Dad says.
That’s it. That’s the voice he uses to manipulate me. It’s so clear now.
What would my life have been like if I’d left when I wanted to?
Tears prick my eyes.
“I’m done. You sort yourselves out.”
I grab my purse and jacket and head toward the door.
I’m not really sure what I’m doing as I get into my car, start it, and then drive down the road. But it soon becomes clear what direction I’m going.
Ajax’s farm.
It might be a short drive, but I pull over a couple of times to wipe my eyes when the tears get to be too much.
I’m not a hundred per cent certain of the address, but I know what road it’s down. I slow as I approach the farm I think is his, and take a turn down the long driveway.
Please let this be it. I don’t want to text Ajax and give him a chance to turn me away .
I drive slowly, breathing a sigh of relief when I recognise Ajax’s truck.
Cookie waves as I pull up—he’s on the doorstep and studying me with a curious expression.
I walk over to him.
“Ivy? Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m looking for Ajax. Do you know where he is?”
Cookie points toward a small house. “He lives there. He know you’re coming?”
“No. I just need to talk to him.”
He gives me a wary smile. “It’s been a crazy morning. He might be napping. Just hammer on the door extra hard, and if he doesn’t answer, you’re welcome to come back to the main house. I’ll be making lunch soon.”
“Thanks.”
I walk toward Ajax’s house, and take a deep breath before knocking.
Here goes nothing.