Ivy
Hampton, Virginia
I don’t move for a long time after the door clicks shut behind Kyler.
The quiet feels different now. Heavier. Like the air shifted when he left, like something unfinished is still lingering in the space he occupied.
Dalton doesn’t rush me.
He doesn’t ask if I’m okay right away, doesn’t push me to talk, doesn’t try to fix something that isn’t fixable in a single night. He just stays close. He sits down next to me at the round kitchen table, but that feels too far. I drop my legs to the floor and move from my chair into his lap.
He wraps one arm around me, holding me against him, the other hand rests lightly at the back of my neck, thumb moving in slow, absent circles like he’s reminding my nervous system how to settle.
I lean into him.
His chest is warm and solid against my cheek, the steady rhythm of his breathing soothing.
“That was a lot,” he murmurs quietly into my hair.
I nod against him. Words feel slow right now, like they have to travel through water before I can speak them. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think I remembered that much.”
“You did really well,” he says softly. His hand slides down my arm, fingers lacing gently with mine. He doesn’t grip tightly. Just enough to remind me he’s here. “I hate that you had to go through that,” he adds quietly.
I swallow. “Me too.”
We both let out small breaths that almost feel like a shared laugh, except nothing about this is funny.
“So,” I say finally, voice still a little thin, “think Kyler knows?”
Dalton huffs softly. “Yeah.”
“You do?” I ask again.
“He knows,” Dalton confirms.
I tilt my head back slightly to look at him. I’m not surprised Kyler would pick up on little nuanced details that anyone else would decide are meaningless. He’s been trained to do exactly that. “I kind of figured he’d notice something but I tried really hard not to be obvious. What did he say?”
“That he can tell you trust me and not to go there with you if it isn’t serious.”
Butterflies dance in my stomach at the second part of that, but I don’t acknowledge them. “I do trust you.” I nod into his chest. “But was that weird coming from my ex-husband?”
“A little bit,” he admits. “Not in a bad way.”
His fingers brush a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, Ivy. I wasn’t planning on having that conversation tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning on talking about being kidnapped tonight,” I point out gently.
“Fair,” he concedes.
Silence settles again, but it isn’t uncomfortable. It feels…thoughtful.
“He wasn’t upset?” I ask slowly.
Dalton shakes his head slightly. “No. He seemed…” I watch as he searches for the right word. “Sad.”
“He’s been sad for a while. I think the idea of me made him happy, but the me who I was after he found me in South Africa couldn’t be what he needed. I wasn’t whole anymore.” I trace the seam of Dalton’s T-shirt lightly with my fingertip. “He always carries a lot of responsibility,” I say quietly.
Dalton’s arm tightens slightly around me. “You did the best you could to get past the hell you’d been through. What happened with Kyler isn’t on you. Seeing you the way he did broke him, too, and for whatever reason you both couldn’t heal back together. No one is to blame. Not him and not you.”
“I know that logically,” I reply. “Emotionally is slower.”
His lips press briefly to my temple. “You don’t have to rush that part.”
I nod. “He thinks this group is still out there,” I say eventually.
Dalton’s hand stills for half a second before resuming its slow movement along my back.
“Yeah,” he says carefully.
I lean back so I can see his handsome face. “That doesn’t scare you?”
His mouth curves faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “I make a living dealing with things that would scare most people.”
“That is not reassuring,” I mumble.
His chest vibrates with a soft laugh.
“What I mean,” he clarifies gently, “is that you’re not facing any of this alone.”
Something in my chest loosens at that.
“Kyler thinks they were gathering information,” I say quietly.
Dalton nods once. “That’s what it sounds like.”
“I didn’t know anything.”
“I know.”
“They thought I did.”
“I know that too.”
I study his face. “You’re not worried I accidentally told them something?”
“No.”
“You didn’t even hesitate.”
“You didn’t have anything to tell,” he says simply.
I let out a slow breath. “I kept thinking if I said the wrong thing…”
“You didn’t.” His answer is immediate and it’s final.
My forehead rests lightly against his collarbone. “Forty-seven,” I whisper.
His hand stills again.
“I counted,” I add softly. “Why did I do that?”
His jaw tightens briefly before he presses another quiet kiss into my hair. “You needed to feel like you could keep track of something, of anything. The number is horrific, but it’s not what matters. What matters is they didn’t break you,” he says.
“They did,” I reply honestly. “Just not completely.”
His arm tightens around me, pulling me a little closer. “You’re not broken now.”
I don’t respond to that. Not because I disagree. Because I’m not entirely sure what parts of me still feel fragile.
“Was it hard…hearing all of that?” I ask after a moment.
“Yes,” he answers honestly.
“Because of Kyler?”
“Because of you.”
I absorb that quietly.
“He still cares about you,” Dalton says gently.
“I still care about him.”
“I know.”
“But not like that anymore.”
“I know that, too.”
I shift slightly so I can see his face again. “You’re very sure of things tonight.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Occupational hazard.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It means I trust what I see.”
“And what do you see?” I ask softly.
His hand slides lightly along my side, and I feel the warmth through my T-shirt. “I see someone incredibly strong who shouldn’t have had to be.”
Emotion presses unexpectedly against the back of my throat.
“He told you not to start something unless you were serious,” I say quietly.
Dalton exhales slowly. “He did.”
“That didn’t scare you off?”
“No.” His thumb traces a slow line along my wrist. “I don’t tend to scare off when something feels right.”
Warmth blooms low in my stomach. “I don’t want to be something complicated,” I admit.
“You’re not.”
I sigh. “My life feels complicated.”
“Your past is complicated,” he corrects gently. “You aren’t.”
“That feels like semantics.”
“It isn’t.”
I study him for a moment. “You’re very calm about all of this.”
“I’m not calm,” he says quietly.
“You seem calm.”
“I just don’t let the important things shake me.”
“And I’m…an important thing?”
His expression softens in a way that makes my stomach flip unexpectedly. “Yes.”
I tuck myself a little closer into him, my hand resting lightly against his chest.
His heartbeat is steady beneath my palm. Strong. Reliable. Safe.
“I’m glad you were here tonight,” I admit.
“There’s nowhere else I would’ve been.”
I close my eyes briefly. “We’re probably going to have to talk about all of this again, aren’t we?”
“Probably.”
“I don’t love that.”
“I don’t love it either.”
“But you’ll sit with me through it?”
“Every time.”
I nod, more to myself than to him.
His fingers tilt my chin gently upward until I meet his eyes. “You don’t have to carry any of this by yourself, Ivy,” he says quietly.
Something in me believes him.
And somehow, despite everything we just talked about, I feel safe.