Dalton
Hampton, Virginia
I’m still thinking about Ivy when I come down the stairs.
The way she looked at me last night like she wasn’t afraid anymore. Like whatever this is between us finally stopped being something we were both trying to ignore.
I replayed it more than once while I was in the shower, the steam doing absolutely nothing to cool the memory of her hands on me, the sound she made when I finally lost control.
It felt…right.
Right in a way that just feels like it fits. Like we fit.
I tug the zipper of my flight suit up the rest of the way as I reach the bottom step, the familiar weight of the fabric forcing me back to reality.
Normal morning.
Normal routine.
Except nothing feels normal anymore.
I can hear Ivy’s voice drifting from the kitchen, soft and warm in that way it always is when she’s talking to Hadley. There’s a lightness in it this morning, something I don’t think I’ve heard before.
I know she’s nervous about Kyler coming over. About facing him.
I saw it in the way her shoulders tensed after she hung up the phone. The way her mind immediately jumped ahead ten steps, trying to predict reactions, manage emotions, prevent conflict before it even exists.
She cares about keeping the peace. About protecting his feelings. Maybe more than she should, but it’s also not my place to express that.
As I cross the living room toward the kitchen, a soft knock lands at the front door.
Right on time.
I open it to find Kyler standing there, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a steaming coffee mug.
“Morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I answer evenly, stepping back to let him in.
For a second, we just exist in the same space acutely aware of each other.
There’s history here that doesn’t involve me.
I respect that.
“Are the girls inside?” he asks.
“They are. They’re in the kitchen. Come in.”
He nods once. “Thanks.” There’s a brief pause before he adds, “Is she doing okay after last night?”
It’s not possessive. Or territorial. He’s just checking in.
“Yeah,” I say honestly. “She’s good.”
Something in his expression loosens slightly at that. He studies me for a second and I get the feeling he’s seeing more than I want him to. Especially after our talk in this very spot not ten hours ago.
We walk toward the kitchen together, footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors.
Ivy looks up and our eyes meet instantly. She nervously grips the clip holding her long, wavy hair off her neck, the motion causing more to fall into her pretty face.
She’s dressed the same way she is every morning: a fitted wrap sweater and leggings with a matching cropped tank.
While I don’t think it was intentional, the outfit never left much to the imagination.
Only now I know exactly what’s hidden beneath it and somehow, the memory is even more distracting than the mystery ever was.
I’m not sure anyone or anything has ever captivated me the way she does.
Kyler clears his throat.
Ivy’s expression shifts so quickly it almost makes me smile—relief, nerves, uncertainty all layered together in a way that makes it very clear she’s been mentally preparing for this moment.
There’s still a faint flush high on her cheeks that has absolutely nothing to do with the temperature of the house.
Hadley doesn’t notice any of it.
Kyler, no doubt, notices it all.
“Daddy!” she squeals, launching herself from her chair with absolutely no hesitation.
Kyler barely has time to set his coffee down before she collides with him, her tiny arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he leans forward to catch her.
“Whoa, hey Had.” He laughs, scooping her up easily and spinning her once in the air, earning a delighted giggle that fills the entire kitchen.
Ivy visibly relaxes at the sound.
“You’re home!” Hadley announces.
“Told you I wouldn’t be gone long,” he says, pressing a loud kiss to her cheek that she dramatically wipes away before immediately leaning back into him again.
“I drawed you pictures,” she informs him very seriously.
“You did?”
“So many,” she confirms with a firm nod.
“Then I definitely need to see them.”
“They’re in my room!” she squeals, already wiggling to be set down.
Kyler lowers her carefully and she takes off toward the stairs at full speed, small socked feet thudding lightly against each step.
The moment she disappears, the quiet shifts.
Ivy inhales. Then blurts, “Dalton and I are together.”
I blink.
That was…not how I planned on starting my Thursday.
Her eyes widen slightly like she hears herself as the words continue spilling out. “Well, I guess I don’t know if we’re together.” She pauses, looking at me questioningly. As far as I am concerned, we are very much together. “But we slept together.”
Everything in me stills.
Kyler stares at her for exactly half a second.
Then he bursts out laughing.
Not awkward laughter.
Not forced.
Actual laughter.
“Ivy,” he says, shaking his head. “I promise you, no interrogation training was required to piece that together.”
Her mouth opens.
Closes.
Opens again.
I’m still processing the fact that this conversation is apparently happening before 8 a.m.
Ivy’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink. “You’re not…mad?”
Kyler shakes his head immediately. “No, of course not. All I want is for you to find someone who makes you feel safe and loved. I know that person hasn’t been me in a long time.”
“You did love me,” she argues.
“I still do. But I don’t make you feel safe and you need that.”
Ivy’s amber eyes fill with tears. “I’m sorry, Ky.”
Kyler finally looks between us, his expression softening slightly. “Please, don’t be.” He glances toward me then. “I’m okay and if you’re happy,” he says simply, “I’ll get there too.”
There’s honesty in it. Respect. Maybe even a hint of relief. And a hell of a lot more generosity than most men would probably offer in this situation.
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, meaning it.
The pounding of small feet announces Hadley’s return before anyone can respond.
She comes barreling back into the kitchen, arms overflowing with construction-paper-and-marker masterpieces, excitement radiating from every inch of her. “LOOK, DADDY,” she shouts, thrusting the stack upward.
Kyler crouches immediately, accepting each page like it belongs in a museum.
“This one is us at the park,” she explains very seriously, pointing to a collection of purple stick figures.
“And this?”
“That’s you and me and Mommy and Dalton and pancakes.”
Ivy’s eyes flick to mine.
Kyler just nods thoughtfully. “I like the colors you picked.”
Hadley beams, completely satisfied with this response.
I glance at the clock, duty tugging me back toward reality. “I’ve got to head out,” I say quietly, stepping closer to Ivy.
Her gaze lifts immediately, nerves still there but calmer now.
My hand brushes lightly at her waist, subtle enough not to draw Hadley’s attention but enough that she feels it. “I’ll see you tonight,” I murmur.
She nods once, calm returning to her expression. “Be safe.”
“Always.”
Hadley barely looks up from explaining the artistic significance of a green scribble that apparently represents a dinosaur wearing a backpack.
“Bye Dalton!” she calls distractedly.
“Bye Hadley.”
Kyler gives me a small nod on my way toward the door.
Not friendship. Not distance either. Just understanding.
And for now…that’s more than enough.