Chapter 22
Wes
I notice the crowd has thinned out significantly when I step into The Whiskey Hollow. It looks like most of the regulars have gone home, and a majority of the patrons are young tourists. The table we were sitting at earlier is now empty, meaning Ivy definitely went home.
Maverick spots me, then walks over to the cash register, reaching his hand behind it and pulling out my phone. At least I found it. Anxious to get the stupid thing back, I stride over to the counter where he hands it over.
“Thanks,” I say
“Thought you were coming right back.”
“I was, Lilah needed me.”
Maverick nods in understanding. “Everyone left a half hour ago.”
“Did Ivy need a ride home?”
“No, she drove herself. She was drinking water for a while. Didn’t need a ride.”
“Alright, cool. Thanks, Mav. See you later.” I shove my phone in my pocket, and head for the door.
“Woah, woah, woah. We’re not going to talk about you and the nanny doing god knows what in my bar’s bathroom?” he asks.
“Nope.”
I see Chase walk behind the bar, and set down a tray of dirty glasses. I narrow my eyes on him briefly, before looking back at my brother.
“But you guys are a thing now?” Maverick asks.
My eyes flick back to Chase, who meets my gaze. “Yeah,” I say.
Maverick barks a laugh, then says, “Bout time.” He leans over the bar slightly and whispers, “Don’t worry. She shot him down. You got nothin’ to worry about.”
I must have a surprised look on my face, because Maverick continues. “She told him she wasn’t interested when you came back from Texas,” he says with a smirk. “Down, boy.”
Jesus… then I ignored her for two fucking weeks. I need to see her. I give him the finger, then turn to leave.
“I’ll send you a bill for the bathroom sanitation!” he yells out just before the wooden door shuts, cutting off all sound from inside.
When I settle into the cab of my truck I finally check my phone. The screen lights up with several missed texts from Ivy and the guilt rips through me. I feel terrible for leaving her. I had to go, but I should’ve had my phone so I could’ve at least given her an update.
I read through all of Ivy’s texts, amused as hell at her rambling.
Yet, I keep going back to the I’d like to date you if you’re interested text.
I can’t suppress my smile. You bet your sweet ass I’m interested.
The fact that she was so worried for Lilah that she made one of my siblings contact my parents, makes my chest constrict.
I can’t wait until Monday morning. I know it’s late, but maybe I can just kiss her goodnight. Or tell her that I definitely am interested. My decision made, I throw my truck into drive, and head to her apartment.
When I arrive at Rose’s house and Ivy’s apartment, I pull up to the curb and quietly get out of my truck. I notice Ivy’s porch light at the top of the staircase is on, so I let the glow guide me as I gingerly take the steps that lead up to her front door above the detached garage.
I wrap my knuckles gently on the front door, crossing my fingers that Ivy is awake.
I don’t have to wait long. I hear light footsteps approaching the door from the inside, and I smirk to myself, preparing—and secretly hoping—to see a sleepy Ivy in her tiny tank top and shorts I haven’t been able to stop thinking of.
I hear the chain lock being removed, then the dead bolt flick before her front door cracks open. I lean forward, trying to get a glimpse of her when I hear an unfamiliar female voice.
“Can I help you?”
My brows furrow when my eyes adjust to the lighting coming from inside the apartment, and see a blonde woman on the other side of the door.
I clear my throat. “I’m sorry, is uh… Ivy here?” I ask.
For some unknown reason, dread starts to seep in my gut before she even answers. I see the confusion flash in her eyes, and the dread seeps deeper.
“Ivy?” she asks, acting puzzled herself. “No, she moved in with her boss. She doesn’t live here anymore.”
She must be mistaken.
“What? Her boss?”
“Yeah, she's a nanny for some guy. I’m the nurse for the woman who owns the apartment. She needed at-home care. It wasn’t an issue because Ivy was asked to move in with her boss at the same time. It’s been a little over two weeks I think.”
I shake my head, trying to process everything this woman is telling me. Two weeks ago? We had just gotten back from Texas. She couldn’t have–
“She comes and sees Rose still, I can tell her you stopped by if you can’t get ahold of her.”
I clench my hands down by my sides, and try to confirm what I think is happening.
“So… Ivy moved in with her boss, who she nanny’s for,” I say, hoping if I repeat her words back to her she’ll correct me. “And he asked her to move in with him, at the same exact time that Rose suddenly needed a live-in nurse?”
“Yeah,” she responds matter-of-factly “Sorry, who are you?”
Not wanting to throw Ivy under the bus, I try to remain calm. “Just a friend. I’ll just give her a call tomorrow. Sorry to disturb you so late,” I reply, before storming down the steps back to my truck.
I waste no time pulling out my phone and calling Ivy.
No answer.
A growl leaves my throat, as I navigate to my sister's contact.
“Hello?” Sophie answers sleepily.
“Does Ivy live with you?” I blurt, getting to the point.
“What?” she asks around a yawn. “Uhhh, no. She lives in her own apartment. You know that. Are you alright? Why are you calling so late?”
“Actually she doesn’t. At least according to Rose’s live-in nurse who just answered Ivy’s fucking front door.” I hear rustling on the other end and then my sister speaks up again.
“What do you mean? What nurse?”
“She said Ivy told them her boss asked her to move in with him. Coincidentally at the same damn time Rose needed a live-in nurse. Two weeks ago. Or more, I don’t know.” I’m basically speaking in growls now. Why wouldn't Ivy tell me? She has her own damn room at my house.
Except two weeks ago, I wouldn’t give her the time of day.
Fuck.
“Ivy Delilah Bennett, you little turd,” Sophie groans.
“You knew her middle name was Delilah?” I ask, derailing from the conversation.
“Uh, yeah. You didn’t? Lilah told me they’re twins,” Sophie giggles.
My nostrils flare, and I take a steadying breath. “Where could she be staying? Did she say anything tonight?” I ask, going back to the matter at hand.
“No, she didn’t say anything. She mainly talked about the vampire book she’s writing, and asked my opinion on a couple of sex positions in a scene she’s writing.
Then she gave me the cliff’s notes of the fantasy series she’s reading, and we made plans to hang out more now that school's out. Maybe she found a place to rent in town and just didn’t tell me?
Which I find hard to believe, since she likes to tell me everything down to her waxing schedule. ”
“Waxing?” I ask. “What? No. Fuck. Okay. I’m going to call her again. Thanks Soph.”
“No worries. Let me know if you get a hold of her. She said she was going home when she left tonight. She probably found a place, Wes,” she adds in a comforting tone.
“Yeah, maybe. I’ll let you know. Good night.”
“Night.”
I tap my phone against my chin, wracking my brain for anything she’s said to me in the last couple weeks that could give me a hint. How did she move without me knowing? That first day back after Texas she didn’t seem like herself. I remember noticing that.
I call her again. No answer.
The ringing echoes through the cab of my truck again. Voicemail.
Feeling helpless, I decide to drive toward home and continue brainstorming. Maybe she mentioned something to my parents. Maybe even Maverick or Lincoln. Logic tells me she’s safe, but I just can’t help but feel like something isn’t right.
When I pass through the main part of town, I drop my eyes to the dashboard.
I’m almost out of gas. I pull into one of the only two gas stations in Canyon Creek, the older one that’s seen better days.
It’s a little more run-down, and I tend to avoid it thanks to the sketchier crowd that tends to hang around here, but tonight it looks quiet.
I pull into the first pump, deciding that it feels safe enough. Canyon Creek might be a small town, and mostly safe, but it’s not untouched by the usual small town flaws…drugs, the occasional crime, and the odd creep here and there.
After I pay for the gas, and stick the nozzle in the tank, I slide my hands into my pockets and lean against the truck, waiting for the truck to fill.
It’s a beautiful night. The warm summer breeze bringing the smell of freshly bloomed flowers and pine. I scan my surroundings, and look over the few businesses on this side of town. My eyes glance over to the Canyon Creek Motel, and its flickering neon sign.
God, I used to drink in that parking lot in high school. I made out with Katie Anderson in one of those rooms after prom, until Lincoln interrupted. He barged in and demanded I help him get a belligerent Beau home. God, if I could go back in time and never have talked to that girl, I would.
I look over all of the rooms on the ground floor, seeing if I can point out which room it was that all that chaos occurred.
I’m scanning each and every door, when I see a very familiar dark green 4Runner parked in the lot.
My brain takes a moment to process why I know that car.
It’s not very common because of how fucking old it is. Wait…
No.
It’s probably a coincidence.
That’s what I tell myself when I rip the nozzle out of the tank, and put it back. That’s what I repeat over and over when I climb into my truck and turn out of the gas station, cross the street, and pull into the motel's parking lot, in about thirty seconds flat.
My heart is pounding in my ears. It can’t be her car.
Although that little voice in the back of my mind won’t shut the hell up.
It’s telling me she’s here. It’s telling me that she felt so alone, so out of options, that she came here.
After what that woman in the apartment told me, the pieces start to come together.
Ivy found out Rose needed help, then lied so Rose didn’t have to kick her out.
Knowing Rose from Ivy's stories alone, she would’ve never done that.
I find the car in question, and double park behind it. I quickly hop out, and walk over to the driver side window. My heart leaps up into my throat when I look inside. As I peer through the glass, I see the unmistakable flower decorated air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.
The muscle in my jaw ticks. Rage, frustration, and something I don’t know how to identify pulse through me.
I still feel in denial. Like my mind cannot comprehend that the woman who haunts my every waking thought since the second I’ve laid eyes on her, could be staying here over confiding in me and asking for help.
Would you ask for help?
I throw out a mental “shut up” to my late best friend and mother to my child, then look for more proof that this is Ivy’s car.
I cup my hands around my eyes to see through the tinted back window.
My daughter’s booster seat stares back at me, confirming my fears and eliminating my self-preserving denial.
I take a steadying breath, and shift my gaze over to the lit up building just ahead. I try to compose myself, and enter the door that reads “Office” with a calm demeanor. When I step through the heavy door, the hinges screech and the bell above the door chimes.
This place has gone down hill.
Would I think that in any other circumstance? Maybe not. Am I being more critical because of my sensitivity pertaining to Ivy’s safety?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
That being said, this place is a fucking shithole.
I see an older man come out of the back office, and up to the desk. I slip my hands into my pockets and approach him.
“Good evening, how can I help you?” he asks.
At least he doesn’t seem dangerous right off of the bat.
“Hi there. My girlfriend asked me to meet her at her room, but I’m not sure which room that is.
She’s not answering her phone. Could you point me in the right direction?
” I ask, half hoping he gives me the room number without issue, and half hoping he wouldn’t just give out her private information that easily to a strange man.
I’m not too worried, because I’ll bang on every damn door in this place until I find her. But if he can make this process easier, I’d rather not wake the entire motel.
“Her name is Ivy,” I add.
“Oh, yes. Nice girl. She’s over in room twelve. Take a left out of here, and climb the stairs. It’s just on your left,” he replies, smiling.
Mother. Fucker.
I refrain from berating the man until I can get to Ivy. Having the information I need, I nod in thanks and hurry out the door to track down her room. I can only hope she’s not too stubborn to come with me when I tell her to pack her shit.
If she insists on sleeping here, I guess I’m sleeping here too. I’ll sleep outside the goddamn door if I have to. She’s not spending another night alone. I take the stairs two at a time, and walk along a hallway until I see a crooked brass number twelve adorning a paint chipped door.
See? Shithole.
I waste no time and knock loudly on the wooden surface, feeling my nerves buzzing like a live wire.
A couple seconds pass, and I knock again, unable to control myself at this point.
I see the dark window suddenly light up and a few moments later I hear a lock slowly disengage.
The door cracks open a couple inches, restricted by the chain lock.
That tiny safety measure does nothing to quell the very intense emotions I’m feeling right now.
Ivy’s beautiful fucking face peeks through the door, locking eyes with me instantly. I watch as her mouth pops open in shock, then as she slams the door right in my face.