Chapter 15 Ivy #2
“And Lucas…” She exhales. “He looked at me, in that awful hospital lighting, hair a mess, mascara down my face, and said, ‘I’m in. For all of it. For you. For him. I’m not going anywhere.’”
My heart twists.
“I’m so happy for you,” I manage. “So, so happy. You deserve this.”
“I know,” she says, with this tiny thread of wonder. “I’m still scared. It’s a lot. But it feels…right. Like I’ve been carrying pieces of a puzzle and they finally clicked.”
I close my eyes for a second, letting that image wash over me.
Melanie with her baby. With Lucas. A family she didn’t dare dream about a year ago. And now…here.
“I want that,” I blurt.
“I know,” she says gently. “Tell me what happened.”
So I do.
I tell her about the sleigh and the fall and the bell strap. About the cabin and the storm and the way Rhett made biscuits and checked latches and let me in when he didn’t have to. About talking in the dark and feeling something open up in my chest I thought had been permanently boarded over.
I tell her about the couch. About my promotion. About the way he looked at me and said he’d been wrong to start something he couldn’t finish.
“He said he wanted his quiet more than he wanted to try with me,” I say, staring at the ceiling. “That he couldn’t be in a half relationship. That we’d just resent each other.”
“And?” Melanie asks.
“And I called him a coward,” I admit.
“Good,” she says immediately.
“Mel…”
“What?” she says. “He is. You didn’t ask him to move to Saint Pierce and become your intern. You just asked him to not slam the door shut before you’d even tried to unlock it.”
“I don’t want to be the reason he loses himself,” I say quietly.
“Okay, but that’s his choice to make,” she says. “Not yours. Not for both of you. Love—real love—doesn’t show up only when it’s convenient and the schedule’s clear. It shows up messy. It shows up when you’re working long hours and exhausted and still make time for each other. Ask me how I know.”
I can hear Everett fussing in the background now. Melanie shushes him softly.
“You’re allowed to want both,” she goes on. “The job and the man. The campaign and the cabin. The promotion and the person who makes your chest feel like it’s got fairy lights strung through it. You don’t have to pick just one dream.”
“I think he already picked for us,” I say.
There’s a pause.
“Okay,” she says, voice softening. “Then right now you get to be sad. Like, full-on ice cream-tub, romcom-marathon, ugly-sob sad. But I’m going to tell you something I wish someone had told me sooner.”
“What?”
“You’re not hard to love, Ivy Garland,” Melanie says. “You’re not asking for too much. You’re not ‘too big’ or ‘too much work.’ If he can’t meet you there, that’s on him. Not on you.”
My eyes flood. “Mel…”
“And for the record,” she adds, voice turning fierce, “if this Rhett guy ever pulls his head out of his mountain and realizes what he lost, he’d better come correct.
Flowers. Apologies. Full growth arc. Because my girl deserves a man who fights for her, not one who taps out because it’s complicated. ”
A watery laugh escapes me. “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
“I live for romance novels,” she says. “I know a third-act breakup when I hear one.”
Everett squawks again, louder this time.
“That’s my cue,” she says. “Diaper duty. But hey?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m happy,” she says softly. “Me and Lucas and Everett. We’re figuring it out, and it’s a lot, and it’s worth it. And I want that kind of happy for you too. In whatever form it takes.”
“Me too,” I whisper.
“Find a way to rest today,” she says. “Even if that just means lying on your couch and staring at the ceiling and letting yourself feel everything. You don’t have to have the answers yet.”
“Okay,” I say.
“And send me a picture of your little fake tree once you finish it,” she adds. “Everett needs to see how Auntie Ivy does Christmas.”
My throat tightens. “I will. Kiss him for me. And I’ll be by to meet him soon.”
“Yes, absolutely,” she says, and hangs up.
The apartment goes quiet again.
I sink deeper into my couch, staring at the half-decorated tree in the corner—lights half-strung, ornament box still open on the floor.
I think about Melanie and Lucas and baby Everett, all tangled up in a tiny hospital room, figuring out their new normal.
I think about Rhett up on his mountain, maybe sitting by his stove, maybe listening to the wind.
I think about myself, right here, in this small apartment with big dreams and a cracked heart and a promotion that’s going to demand everything I’ve got.
I close my eyes and breathe.
I don’t know what my happy looks like yet.
But I know I want more than hollow.
More than almost.
More than being someone’s storm exception.
I want a family someday. A home that feels like laughter and coffee and shared blankets. Someone who doesn’t walk away because it’s hard, but stays because it’s worth it.
And I’m not going to pretend I didn’t feel something like the beginning of that in a cabin on a mountain with a man who’s too scared to reach for it.
For now, I pick up one of the ornaments—tiny, wooden, hand-painted: Chimney Gorge Christmas Jubilee—and hang it carefully on my little tree.
“Come back,” Keely had said.
“Anytime,” the mayor had promised.
I don’t know if I’ll be going back for work or for me.
But as the lights on my tree blink to life, I know one thing for sure:
I’m not done with Chimney Gorge.
And if Rhett Ryder ever decides he wants more than just surviving, he’s going to have to prove it.
Because I’m done letting someone else decide what I’m worth.