Chapter 29 IVY
IVY
One Last Chance
The letter glows on my laptop screen, words I've read so many times I've memorized every line. Declan's email arrived from an account I didn't recognize, but I knew it was him before I finished the first sentence.
I love you. I'll always love you. I hope your research changes how teams handle concussions. I hope you save lives.
If you want to help, that's your choice. If you don't, I understand completely.
My phone feels heavy in my hand as I type the message that will change everything.
Ivy:
Meet me tomorrow at 2 pm.
His response comes in seconds:
Declan:
Where do you want us to meet? Anywhere would be splendid.
I think for a while. The cabin is Declan’s sanctuary, the place where he first showed me who he really was beneath all the armor. It's remote enough that no paparazzi will find us, private enough for what I need to say.
What I need to do.
Ivy:
The cabin. I’ll drive myself.
Declan:
I'll be there. Thank you.
Sloane steps into the room and sits on the bed.
"I'm meeting Declan tomorrow at his cabin." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "I read his email, and I can't just walk away, not when he destroyed his entire career to protect me."
She studies me for a long moment, her hazel eyes sharp. Then she pulls me into a fierce hug.
"Don't let him hurt you again," she whispers against my hair.
"I won't."
But we both know it's a lie. Loving Declan Hawthorne means accepting the possibility of pain. The question is whether the love is worth the risk.
***
The drive to the cabin takes two hours. I memorized the route the last time we came here together, back when everything felt possible. Before I found out about the lies and the true person behind King.
The gravel driveway crunches under my tires as I pull up to the rustic structure nestled among towering pines. His truck is already there, parked near the entrance. My heart hammers against my ribs as I cut the engine.
I open the door and just sit there, breathing in the pine-scented air that drifts through my cracked window. The forest is quiet except for birdsong and the distant rustle of leaves.
Then the cabin door opens. Declan steps onto the porch.
He's wearing jeans and a dark Henley, his hands shoved in his pockets.
His dark brown hair is messier than usual, longer on top and falling across his forehead.
Those piercing green eyes find mine across the distance.
From here, I can see the hollows beneath them, the sharp angles of his jaw more pronounced.
He's lost weight. The sight makes my chest ache.
He looks wrecked.
I climb out of the car, my legs unsteady. We stare at each other, neither moving.
"Hi," I finally manage.
"Hi." His voice is rough, like he hasn't used it in days. "Thank you for coming."
"I read your email."
"I meant every word."
My throat tightens. I force my feet to move, climbing the porch steps until only a few feet separate us. This close, I can see the exhaustion etched into his features, the vulnerability in his eyes.
"You risked everything. You burned your entire life down to clear my name."
"Your reputation mattered more than my career."
"Declan…"
"No, let me finish." He takes a step closer. The intensity in his gaze steals my breath. "I love you, Ivy. Every part of you. You challenge me and see through my garbage. You’re stronger than you know."
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back.
"You lied to me for weeks."
"I know."
"You watched me fall for King while pretending to be someone else."
"I know."
"You made me doubt myself. My judgment. My worth."
His jaw clenches. "I know. And I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me. But I understand if you can't, if you need to walk away."
The forest whispers around us, birds calling to each other in the canopy above. The air smells of pine and earth.
"I'm testifying at your hearing," I say finally.
His eyes widen, but he stays quiet.
"I spoke to your lawyer yesterday. Patricia Ammon is brilliant, by the way. Very thorough." I smooth my hands over my jeans, needing something to do with them. "I'm providing testimony about Gregory's manipulation. You're not facing this alone."
"Ivy, you don't have to."
I meet his gaze head-on.
"Yes, I do. Because despite everything, you protected me. And I’ve chosen you…" My voice cracks, my words trailing off.
The sound he makes is broken, raw. He moves closer and reaches for me, then stops, his hand hovering in the air between us.
"Can I touch you?" His voice is barely a whisper.
I close the distance between us.
His arms wrap around me immediately, crushing me against his chest. I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in, cologne and soap and that musky Declan scent. His heart pounds against mine, frantic and alive.
"I'm sorry," he whispers into my hair. "I'm so sorry."
"I know." My fingers curl into his shirt. "Don't ever lie to me again."
"Never."
"Don't manipulate me."
"Never."
"Don't abandon me when things get hard."
His arms tighten until I can barely breathe.
"Never. I swear it."
I pull back just enough to look at him. His green eyes are wet, vulnerable in a way I've never seen.
"I forgive you," I breathe.
Then I kiss him.
He freezes for half a heartbeat before responding with desperate intensity.
His hands frame my face, tilting my head as his mouth moves over mine.
I taste salt from tears. Mine or his, I can't tell.
Don't care. All that matters is this: his mouth on mine, his touch igniting every nerve ending, the rightness of finally, finally being here.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"Inside," I whisper against his lips. "Now."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
We stumble through the door, hands everywhere, mouths fused. He kicks it shut behind us, and the sound echoes through the cabin's open space. The last time we were here, everything was careful, gentle, patient.
Not now.
Now, I'm on fire.
I yank at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. It lands somewhere behind him with a soft thud, forgotten. My hands spread across his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the ridges of muscle beneath the sprawling tattoo. His breath hitches when my nails scrape lightly over his nipples.
"Ivy," he groans.
"Bedroom," I demand.
One side of his lips turns up into a smirk.
"Bossy."
"You have no idea."
His laugh is dark and hungry as he backs me down the hallway, his hands already working at the buttons of my cardigan. He pushes it off my shoulders, then reaches for the hem of my shirt.
"This too," he mutters.
I lift my arms, and he strips it away. His eyes drop to my simple white bra, and the heat in his gaze makes my skin flush.
"Beautiful," he breathes.
We reach the bedroom, and he walks me backward while kissing me until my knees hit the mattress. I sit, looking up at him.
"Too fast?" he murmurs, searching my face.
The raw need on his face steals my breath.
"Not fast enough."
Something feral flashes in his eyes. But then he schools his expression.
“We need to slow down. It’s been a while since you and I made love. I want you to savor every second.
"I need you," I whisper, shaking my head.
He inhales shakily then composes himself.
“I missed you every second of every day,” he says softly.
My body is now trembling with need.
“Show me.”
His mouth captures mine again, slower this time, savoring. His tongue traces the seam of my lips. I’m burning for him, desperately wanting more. But I open for him, letting him taste and explore
He reaches for the button of my jeans, and I lift my hips to help him pull them down along with my underwear. Then I'm bare before him, and his gaze darkens to something primal.
"Lie back."
I obey, my heart racing. He starts with my navel, and my breath hitches. His tongue explores my stomach down to my legs, making me moan. He spreads my legs gently, his calloused palms rough against my inner thighs, and then his mouth is on me.
The first touch of his tongue on my clit makes me gasp. He explores slowly, deliberately, making me arch and moan. When he finds that perfect spot, he focuses there, building pleasure in slow, devastating waves.
"Declan," I whimper, my hands fisting in his hair.
He hums against me, the vibration sending sparks through my core. One hand slides up to palm my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric of my bra. The dual sensation is overwhelming.
"Please," I beg.
He slides two fingers inside me, curling them just right that they send me over the edge. The orgasm crashes through me, stealing my breath, my vision, everything but the sensation of falling apart under his touch.
When I finally come back to myself, he's kissing his way up my body. My hip. My stomach. The valley between my breasts. He reaches behind me to unhook my bra, and then that's gone too.
I lean forward, and his mouth closes over one breast, tongue circling, teeth grazing gently. Pleasure shoots through me, straight to my core. My head falls back as he lavishes attention on first one, then the other, his hands kneading and caressing.
But I want more than this. I want to give him what he's given me.
“Declan,” I gasp. “Wait.”
He pauses, waiting.
My eyes trail across his lips. I take in his broad chest, his abs, that jeans that is blocking my view.
"My turn," I tell him breathlessly.
A slow, devastating smile spreads across his face.
"By all means, Doc. Show me what you've learned."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don't look away. Instead, I sit up and reach for his belt, my fingers fumbling slightly. He helps me, pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down until he's naked before me. My mouth goes dry at the sight.
"Lie down," I instruct.
His eyebrows rise, but he complies, stretching out on the bed. I crawl over him, straddling his thighs. His gaze tracks my movements, hungry and appreciative.