Chapter Five #2
“That’s not an answer,” he muttered.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically, turning back to the wall. “I just want to finish this section. I’m on a roll.”
He stepped closer. The space behind her filled, his presence solid and unavoidable. Ivy became acutely aware of the heat of him, the quiet strength packed into his frame.
She caught his scent then, not just leather and road dust, but motor oil, metal, and something clean beneath it. Soap, maybe. It wrapped around her senses and sank in deep, grounding and stirring all at once.
“You’ve been at it for hours,” Havoc pointed out.
His voice came from just over her shoulder, low and steady, close enough that she felt the vibration of it rather than simply heard it.
Her back prickled with awareness. She could sense how easily he could reach out, how little effort it would take for him to steady her hand or pull her away from the wall.
The knowledge of his strength settled heavy and electric in her chest. She didn’t feel threatened, because Havoc’s strength felt protective and controlled. Why she thought that despite knowing very little about him unsettled her a little.
Ivy swallowed, forcing herself to keep her brush steady.
“I didn’t notice,” she said, though they both knew that wasn’t true.
She shifted her weight, painfully aware of how near he was, how the air seemed to hum between them. He was like a wall himself. Ivy wondered what it would feel like to lean back and let herself rest against something that strong.
“I know my limits,” she added.
He snorted softly. “Your stomach just called bullshit.”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“Take a break, Ivy,” Havoc suggested.
“No,” she said, bracing herself for an argument. “I don’t want to lose the momentum.”
He didn’t raise his voice. “You’re shaking,” he pointed out.
She looked down and cursed quietly when she saw it. Her hand trembled, just a little, the adrenaline burn-off finally catching up with her. Damn it.
“I’m fine,” she tried again, weaker this time.
Havoc softened his gaze, though his jaw stayed tight. “You can come back to it. Wall’ll still be here.”
She hesitated. Normally, she would’ve pushed back harder. Ivy really hated being told what to do.
However, something about the way he said it made the fight drain out of her. Havoc wasn’t commanding or dismissive. Ivy didn’t miss the concern in his voice.
She sighed, setting her brush down. “Okay. Fifteen minutes,” she said.
He curved his mouth upwards, a hint of satisfaction flickering there.
“Lunch,” he argued. “A proper one.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Lunch,” Ivy said.
They took his bike. The diner was a few miles down the road, a squat little building with sun-faded signage and chrome trim that had seen better decades. The parking lot was half full, trucks and bikes scattered in no particular order. The moment Havoc pushed the door open, the air changed.
“Jesus,” a woman’s voice called from behind the counter. “If it ain’t Havoc.”
A waitress with silver-threaded hair and sharp eyes grinned at him like she’d known him forever. Another one waved from a booth, coffee pot in hand.
“Usual booth?” the first asked.
He nodded. “Yeah.”
They slid into a booth without discussion. Ivy tucked herself in across from him, taking it all in. The familiarity and the ease. The way the staff clocked her once, curious but not hostile. Coffee appeared in front of her without her asking.
“On the house,” the waitress said with a wink. “Anyone who survives a day at the compound deserves caffeine.”
Ivy laughed despite herself. “Thanks,” she said.
As the woman walked away, Ivy leaned forward slightly. “You come here a lot.”
Havoc shrugged. “Used to,” he admitted.
That didn’t quite answer it.
She glanced around again, noticing the way eyes lingered on him with something like fondness. Respect, sure, but there was also affection.
“Why do they all know you?” she asked lightly.
Ivy tried to keep the curiosity from sharpening into something too pointed. Havoc didn’t answer right away.
He dropped his gaze to the tabletop, to the scarred wood worn smooth by decades of elbows and coffee cups. Names and initials were carved into it, some shallow, some gouged deep enough to catch a fingernail. Without realizing it, he brushed his thumb over one set of letters, slow and absent.
“Libby worked here,” he said finally.
The name landed between them with quiet force. Ivy felt it in her chest, a small tightening that had nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with recognition. Some names carried weight. This one did. It wasn’t just a person, it was a history.
“Libby?” she echoed gently.
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
The way he said it told her more than any explanation could have. The careful control, the restraint layered over something raw. He hadn’t softened the name or rushed past it. He’d placed it down like something fragile.
“Who’s Libby?” Ivy asked softly, though she already knew the answer mattered.
He flexed his jaw, then inhaled through his nose and exhaled just as slowly.
“My high school sweetheart,” he said. A beat. “Old lady.”
Was. The unspoken word hovered there, unfinished and heavy.
“Was?” Ivy asked, her voice barely above the hum of the diner.
Havoc lifted his eyes to hers. For a second, something open flickered there, a crack in the armor. Then it shut. Whatever warmth had been lingering cooled, replaced by distance.
“She’s gone,” he said.
Gone how was a question Ivy felt in her bones but didn’t dare voice. Did Libby die? Was it an accident?
“I’m sorry,” she said instead.
He nodded once, sharp and final. The conversation was closed.
Still, Ivy had already seen it. Havoc’s pain, stark and undeniable. It lived in the lines around his eyes, in the way his shoulders held tension even when he was sitting still. It slid into place now, connecting dots she hadn’t realized she’d been tracing.
The sorrow she’d sensed the first time she met him. The heaviness under his irritation. The way he looked like a man always braced for impact.
So that was it. She could’ve pressed. The artist in her itched to understand, to map the lines of his story, to know what had shaped him into this rough-edged, tightly held version of himself. However, this wasn’t a wall she could sketch her way into. This was a door he hadn’t opened.
So she didn’t touch it. Instead, Ivy took a sip of her coffee, then set it down.
“This place has good energy,” she said, deliberately changing course. “Feels lived in.”
The tension in his broad shoulders eased, just a fraction, but she noticed.
“Yeah,” he said. “Food’s decent too.”
They ordered, burgers for him and soup and a grilled cheese for her. Simple, comforting choices that matched the place. The waitress grinned at Havoc, teasing him about disappearing for weeks at a time. He rolled his eyes but smiled back, and Ivy caught the ease there. Another piece of the puzzle.
As they waited, Ivy studied him openly now. The way he wrapped his fingers around his mug, scarred knuckles thick and steady. The ink that disappeared beneath worn leather at his wrists. He looked out of place in the diner, all sharp edges, and yet he belonged here completely.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
He looked up, brow creasing. “For what?”
“For making me take a break,” she admitted. “I needed it.”
He huffed, but there was no heat in it. “Don’t get used to it.”
She smiled anyway.
When the food arrived, her stomach reminded her just how long it had been since she’d eaten. The first bite nearly made her groan. Havoc watched her with an unreadable expression, one corner of his mouth twitching.
“Good?” he asked.
“Embarrassingly,” she said around a mouthful.
That earned her a smirk. They ate in comfortable silence for a while. The tension between them didn’t disappear, but it shifted. Settled into something warmer, something that hummed low and steady beneath the surface.
Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Ivy glanced at him over her coffee, heart giving a quiet, traitorous thud. She didn’t know what this was or where it was going—hell, if it was going anywhere at all.
However, she did know this. Little by little, Havoc was letting her see him, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it yet. That felt dangerous in all the right ways, but Ivy had never been one to back away from a challenge.