Chapter 35
Spencer
Ivy’s cries drift into the dim room.
I roll over and rub my eyes. With a low rumble, I glance at Riley’s side of the bed.
It’s . . . empty.
So why is Ives still crying? Riles must be getting her a bottle or something.
I swing my legs over the bed and sit up. Finding sweatpants and a shirt, I run a hand through my messy hair. I raise the blinds and almost lose my retinas.
“Shite,” I curse, holding a hand up to protect my eyesight. The outside world is lit up. How damn late is it?
Coffee. I need coffee.
My muscles are sore from fencing yesterday, and I flex my arms over my head as I walk down the hall for the kitchen.
Which is . . . also empty.
“Riles?” I call out. “You and Ives okay?”
I slide the beans from the cupboard and tip them into the top of the machine. I start the grinder as I decide to go help.
Ivy’s still wailing.
“I’m coming, my girls.”
Yawning, I push her door open.
She’s standing at the side of the crib, her face beet red and tear streaked. I lift her out.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
She chugs through quick breaths, her little arm reaching for something beyond the doorway.
“Where’s Riles, baby? Is that who you want?”
I lift her up and sniff her diaper.
Geez. I whip my head back.
Well, that’s not helping. I lay her on the changing table and fix her up, dropping the rolled-up poopy diaper into the bin. All cleaned up and in a new warm day onesie, I put her down. She’s always little miss independent.
Today she whines, reaching up for me.
I pick her up and feel her forehead.
No temp.
“Okay, kiddo. What’s going on?”
She whines again, shaking her head.
“Alright, let’s go find her.”
Ives starts to cry, sobbing as she points to her crib. I pluck up Mr. Fluffy and give him to her.
She shakes her head.
“Not Mr. Fluffy? Then what is it?”
Confused at her distress, I walk us out to the kitchen and pull the drawer where her plastic bowls are stored out.
Maybe she’s just hangry.
As I shut the drawer, something on the counter flutters up and comes to rest.
A note.
No . . .
Tell me you didn’t, Riley O’Malley.
I spoon Ivy’s favorite pureed fruit into her bowl and strap her into her high chair. Handing her the bowl and a spoon, I glance at the small piece of paper covered in Riley’s handwriting.
The last breath lodges in my throat.
I force myself to pick it up.
Spence,
I know you’ll hate me for this. But maybe that’s the point. We both know this was temporary. As incredible as it was, our responsibilities are worlds apart.
I knew saying goodbye would destroy the both of us, so this is it.
I didn’t want Ivy to have to see us like that. Or to be upset.
I left the little car. Please sell it and put the money into a fund for Ives, or I guess you could keep it for her to learn how to drive one day. Whatever you decide is fine with me.
I said goodbye to Stace last night.
My fucking sister knew Riles was leaving this morning and didn’t think it crucial that I know?
God, this thing between us really is fucked up.
Oh, and tell Brades the back door needs new hinges. And also, that I’ll miss him.
Then there’s this cowboy, you know the cocky one with the blue eyes and most gorgeous grin, I’ll miss him the most.
He kind of shaped my heart. Who knew anyone could mold this banged up old thing.
But I know he’ll be fine. Look how he stepped up for his little girl.
I’ll miss you more than words can ever convey.
Huggle Ives tight for me. Tell her Riles loves her to the moon and back.
Bye cowboy,
Riles. xx
PS I think Brades is seeing someone . . . There’s headlights leaving out front of his place.
The lines are blurred like tears dropped onto the page, soaked in and messed with the ink.
My back slides down the counter’s end until my ass meets the hard floor. Sobs chug from my face over ugly sounds.
A low, guttural groan pours from me.
Hands cramping around the paper, my peripherals blur as tears burn and fall over my face, dripping from my jawline to the floor. I thump the back of my head into the side of the counter, growling, as if that will strip the pain that is a vice around my chest.
It doesn’t help.
I push from the floor, the note slipping from my hand as I stalk down the hallway and out the back door. I lose a scream as I plow my hands through my hair.
“Fuck!”
I double over when absolutely no air makes it into my lungs.
“Riles, fuck . . .” I sob through each syllable.
I knew this would be hard.
But this is . . . killing me.
Frigid air sinks into my burning lungs as I settle.
Something bangs onto the ground inside.
Dammit.
I fly back inside to find Ivy slamming her spoon into the high chair table, the bowl on the floor.
How do you explain to a—possibly one year old—that the person she loved the most has left?
I make a vague side note to follow up on the birth certificate. I need to know everything there is to know about Ives.
Riley would have loved to celebrate her first birthday.
My jaw feathers as I unbuckle Ivy and lift her out. Hugging her tight, I cradle her head, needing her as close as possible.
“Just you and me now, baby girl,” I rasp.
That ache that had eased for a brief moment rushes back in with full force. My shoulders shake as I try and fail to hold back raw sobs. Tiny hands pry at my face as Ivy wriggles in my arms. I lift my head as her little hands clasp my cheeks.
“Dad, dad, dad, dada . . .”
Her face twists with worry, her eyes narrowing. Then her forehead presses to my cheek, her fingers molding to my face.
“Yeah, baby, Dada is still here.”
Only damn just.