15. Ivy
IVY
Waking to the feel of fingers running through my hair might be my new addiction.
I don't move.
I can’t.
It’s intoxicating.
Instead, I keep my cheek pressed against the chest beneath me, lulled by the way it rises and falls so gently. I feel like I’m being rocked out at sea, where nothing in the world matters.
Apparently, there’s a lot I don’t know, but the most jarring fact is that this isn’t the first time I’ve been in this situation. Being told that I’ve experienced amnesia before and knowing I can’t even recollect it is a strange feeling.
What has me even more curious is that I’m content in his arms. I don’t know why being here feels this way, but I’m not worried about what I don’t know.
I’m sure it’ll all come eventually, as they all said, but for now, I’m calm and happy to bask in this little bubble, away from whatever led me here.
“Are you going to continue to pretend to be asleep?”
His gruff voice rattles his chest beneath me, and I smile.
Prying my eyes open, I squint at him. “But I'm worried you’ll stop,” I admit as my gaze meets his deep, green pools.
The sense of connection roots me to the spot. I can't quite understand why I'm so drawn to him. If what he says is true, when I remember, I won't feel it anymore.
That should be a red flag.
Instead, I dumbly ignore the signs as it draws me closer.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, and I sigh, shuffling gently to look up at him better with my hand on his chest.
“Tired, hungry, in need of more petting,” I joke, and the corner of his mouth tilts up in what I already know would be a rare smile.
“Maybe we need to get you some food then. Sleep is all you seem to be doing. We can do more of that later, but if I don't get some food in you soon, my mother will likely kill me and serve me as your lunch,” he muses, making me giggle before another reluctant sigh parts my lips.
I sit up, brushing my hair back off my face before I realize we're alone.
It's calm and tranquil, unlike the madness I awoke to earlier.
He clears his throat, gaining my attention as he scrubs at the back of his neck.
“You wait here, I'll go and grab some food,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and storming toward the door.
Only when he reaches the doorway does he pause, gripping the frame as he glances back.
“Do you want me to bring everyone back with me? Or—”
I shake my head before he can finish. “I want peace for a minute longer,” I admit, and he nods, his eyes crinkling at the sides before he disappears.
Something tells me that’s the answer he was looking for.
Satisfied, I shuffle back on the bed, leaning against the metal headboard, which offers no real comfort, but it props me up at least.
As the silence stretches around me, I delve deeper into my thoughts, trying to remember anything about the people who were here earlier, yet all I can remember is my brother.
Hugo.
He looked distressed, torn, and broken. As if he’s been handling my father and his torrid temper for days on end.
My gut twists.
Thankfully, Baron returns a moment later, dragging me from my thoughts. With a tray of food in his hands, he kicks the door shut behind him, placing the tray beside me, while he remains standing on the other side of it.
Looking up through my lashes, I tilt my head. “Are you going to join me or stay there and make this awkward?” I ask, and he rolls his eyes, nudging the tray a little to take the spot beside me.
I smile with victory as I reach for the glass of orange juice and croissant waiting for me.
Comfortable silence wraps around us, and it allows me a chance to think, my mind peppering me with questions. I consider swallowing them down until my impending memories return, but the idea of trying to get an understanding without my emotions getting the better of me is intriguing.
“I want to ask you some things. If I do, will you be honest with me?”
“If you want honesty, you should have picked Archer,” he replies, and my eyebrows pinch.
"Why is that?”
His lips part as he frowns. “It's his magic, he—never mind. Bad joke when you don't remember,” he grumbles, waving me off, and I smile.
“You say I hate you because you rejected me,” I blurt, watching his Adam's apple bob. “Do I know why you rejected me?”
He shakes his head. “And before you ask, no, that's not a conversation for today either.”
“Are you sure? I don't remember anything right now. I would at least be less emotional about it.” My encouragement falls flat when he scoffs.
“You don’t know how to be emotionless, Ivy.
Not a single day in your life, but especially not today,” he states, and I press my lips into a fine line, trying to deny him, but the way my chest tightens and my cheeks heat proves him right.
“How about you tell me why you chose me?” he retorts, and I frown.
“I don't know what you mean.
He waves his arms about. “Here, now.”
I shrug, toying with the rim of my glass. “Because, among the madness, you were willing to lay the truth out there and not shield me from it in hopes of gaining an advantage.” My words hang in the air, enveloping us, binding us closer together.
“Ivy—” he rasps, but I lift my hand, interrupting him before he can distract me.
“What's going on? Like, really.”
“In what sense?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“It’s all confusing.”
“It seems life is confusing in general right now, Ivy,” he admits, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Lay it out for me. Let me see my life with fresh eyes.”
His tongue slips between his lips. “Are you sure about that?”
I nod, and just like that, my life tumbles from his mouth.
“You're here right now because somebody killed you, and we don't know why. We were in a meeting,” he explains, unraveling his hair from his hair tie, offering me a brief view of it falling to his shoulders before he mindlessly twists the ends, securing it once more. “Teddy walked you back to the Fire Protectors’ dorms. You went inside, but Archer had a gut feeling and left the meeting to find you.” His pupils dilate to pinpricks.
“And unfortunately, he found you… again.” He clears his throat, but the gravel in his words is undeniable.
“He believes it has something to do with Francesca, who is the leader of the Fire Protectors, but there's no proof anywhere until you can remember.”
My stomach twists. “And why does he think it's her?”
He shrugs. “Something to do with her being a bitch during your last fire lesson.”
“Bitchy enough to kill me?”
Disappointment etches into the frown that marks his forehead. “She wouldn't be the first.”
A wave of emotions washes over me at his words, and my eyelids flutter closed. Inhaling sharply, I part my lips. “Others want to kill me?” I question, and he hums his acknowledgment. “Is that what you tried to do, the day at the cliff?”
Silence engulfs the room as my pulse rings in my ears, and my chest clenches until he clears his throat.
“You remember?” he asks, and I nod, inhaling sharply again as I force my eyes to open.
My gaze lands on him, finding his eyes wide and alert, as if he's ready for me to shatter whatever this moment is between us.
Yet my gut instinct to trust him when he offers the truth, despite the circumstances, resonates deep within me, quelling the anger I usually feel.
Not eradicating it altogether, but easing it a little.
“It was Francesca,” I state, and my gut twists. “She wasn't alone.”
His eyes darken as if he knows what I'm about to say.
“Say it,” he grunts, lurching from the bed with his hands planted on his hips.
“Bonnie and Odesa.”
“What for?” he snarls, and I shake my head.
“It's a power play,” I mutter, rising from the bed too as I pace by the side. “She forced me to heal a wound she created on Bonnie. At least we know my phoenix abilities include that now,” I state, trying to make light of the situation, but my body still aches with the remnants of pain.
“I’m going to chop off their fucking heads, put them on spikes, and feed them to Alaric.” He vibrates with anger.
As if sensing the disaster unraveling in the room, the door opens, and familiar faces fill the space.
“She remembers,” Baron grunts, head tilted down to the floor. “Francesca. Odesa. Bonnie,” he snarls, and the room erupts in chaos.
All four men talk at once, raging at one another as a fifth joins the mix: Hugo.
Unable to think among the madness and their shouting, I startle when Meadow peeks her head around the door.
I'm instantly flooded with relief.
Through the testosterone-built tension, there is a sliver of serenity.
“Hey, you're awake. Are you okay?”
I step into her extended arms. “I’ll be better when you get me out of here,” I admit, frowning at the guys, completely aware that they're coming from a good place, but they're giving me a goddamn headache.
“Absolutely. Do you want me to put my foot down and say it's girl time?”
I gnaw at my bottom lip as I nod, but before we can devise a plan, another light, feminine voice rings through the air.
“Did somebody say girl time? Hey, I'm Aster, their sister, and I promise, I’m definitely better than they are,” she promises, pointing her finger over her shoulder as she moves closer, and there’s a flash of movement behind her.
“And I’m Cami,” another girl sings, and I smile as Baron and Sax’s mom steps into the room.
She frowns at her sons before looking at me with bewilderment. “Would you like the company, dear? Or would you prefer some space?”
A knot unravels in my chest, one I feel has been wound tight for an eternity.
“Girl time?” Archer’s voice cuts through the air. “There's no girl time right now,” he commands, folding his arms over his chest as he narrows his eyes at me. “You need full protection, constant observation, and a certainty that nobody gets near you.”
I’m not the only one who gapes at him in disbelief, but it’s Baron and Sax’s mom who speaks first.