7. Ivy
7
IVY
ONE WEEK LATER…
I want to wake to kisses on my neck. To Slate’s rough hands moving down my hips and grabbing my butt. To the scrape of his five o’clock-shadow on my cheek as he brings his lips to mine.
But despite my wishes, I wake up alone in my bed at home.
We’ve been sneaking around now, stealing touches in the shadows, sharing late-night rides and whispering dirty things into each other’s ears. But now it’s finally time to stop hiding. My dad deserves to know the truth.
And today we’re going to tell him.
It’s best he hears it from us, rather than from someone else, or God forbid, walking in on us somewhere and losing his shit. And besides, Slate deserves to live in the light and not be hidden away in the darkness.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and thumb through our messages from last night. His last text reads:
Pick you up in the morning. We’ll tell him together.
My heart skips a beat, and I bite my lower lip. Yep, it’s really happening today. No doubt, no hesitation in his words. He really means it. He’s ready.
So what is this whisper in the back of my mind? This hesitation? A voice telling me that something is wrong–something I can’t see.
Maybe I’m just nervous because this thing with Slate feels too good to be true.
He’s perfect for me. It’s like he came out of nowhere just to bless my heart with an almost unbearable love.
There’s also a missed call from Dad, but it’s probably just him telling me I’m late to work. So I quickly push myself out of bed and throw on some clothes. The last thing I need is for him to be already pissed when Slate and I lay our news on him.
When I step outside, Slate is already there, sitting on his bike in a thin T-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and muscled arms. His eyes lock on to mine instantly. Some women might find them dark, but they soften quickly as I walk up to him.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” He smiles.
We kiss. I drape myself against him. “You sure about this?”
He tilts my chin up and gives me a firm, confident look. “We talked about this, Ivy. We can’t hide our relationship. I can’t go around pretending I am not in love with you.”
Every time he tells me that, my heart flutters. I blush, clutching his arm.
“I love you too.”
He pulls me close and kisses me, deeply and hungrily. It would be a perfect moment if it weren’t for the nervous, twisting sensation in my stomach.
It’s a short drive to Dad’s shop. I keep my head leaned up against Slate’s muscled back, basking in the warmth of his body, my eyes closed. I open them when I feel the bike slowing, and when I see the door to the garage, I instantly know something is very wrong.
It’s hanging half-open, the metal all dented in and torn like someone took an axe to it. I see bullet holes. Inside, tools are scattered everywhere. Several of the bikes have been completely destroyed, and others are missing. Stolen.
Slate stops the bike, and I quickly leap off and run over to my father, who is standing in the middle of the mess, hands on his hips, head down.
“Dad!” My voice is trembling as I step up beside him.
He spins around, eyes blazing. “Ivy? What are you doing here? I called you and told you not to come in today!”
Shit. Guess I should have called him back. “What in the world happened?”
“They were here,” he growls as his hands curl into fists.
“Who is… they?”
He pauses, then hands me a note on dirty notepad paper.
Debts are not forgiven. Traitors face punishment. We do not forget.
-Smoke and Skulls
My stomach turns to ice.
“Smoke and Skulls…” I mutter as it all comes rushing back to me. “That’s the gang who–”
“Who your mother tried to…” My dad’s voice trails off. Even he doesn’t want to go back to when all that happened. I can see he wants to break something. “Yeah, that’s them.”
No, it can’t be. My dad fixed all that. It’s supposed to be over.
Slate stands silently beside me. I’m surprised he’s not growling threats or expressing some kind of rage. He’s just standing there, rigid, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrow, flicking back and forth as if searching for options.
I try to catch his eye, but his gaze is vacant. Focused on something I can’t see.
When he speaks, my blood runs cold.
“I have to go.”
I blink, unsure if I heard him right. “Go? Go where?”
Slate turns to his bike, already reaching for his key. “I’ll be back.”
My dad laughs bitterly, his voice rough as he shakes his head.
“Should have known. You didn’t say a damn thing when you heard who did this.”
“What does that mean?” I snap, my heart absolutely racing.
Dad’s glaring at Slate as he picks up a hammer. “It means your boy here already knew.”
“Knew?” I stammer. “Knew what?”
My dad growls, takes a step forward towards him. “Knew who left the note.”
Massive adrenaline dump.
I’m cold as I turn back to Slate, searching his face as he stands there still. When he finally brings his eyes to mine, I see something there I’ve never seen before. And it terrifies me.
“Slate?” The words barely escape my lips.
“Don’t worry,” he says slowly, his voice barely audible. “I will fix this.”
Before I can reply, he’s speeding away, his bike roaring and tires screeching against the pavement as he disappears down the street.
My mind whirls. The world begins to crumble around me.
And something inside me snaps.
My chest is tense, my pulse hammering so hard that I can feel it in my teeth. I hear the sound of Slate’s engine fading into the distance, and with it, the trust I had placed in him and was so sure of moments ago.
Today was supposed to be the day we stopped hiding. He was supposed to stand here beside me while we told my dad the truth–that Slate was no longer a Heartless Bastard. That I belonged to him now, and that he would devote his life to protecting me.
But he just left. No explanation other than he’d “fix this.”
Fix what?
Dad’s words sink into me like rusty nails, driving heavy doubt into my chest like old iron sinking into deep water. “Your boy here already knew.”
No.
No, that can’t be right.
Slate wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t betray me. He wouldn’t crash into my life like a wonderful storm, swearing he loved me, just to tear the floor out from under my feet.
Right…?
I gave my virginity to him, for God’s sake. But I can’t stop thinking about the way he stood there with his eyes down and jaw clenched tight. The way his whole body was tight like he actually was expecting this.
Like maybe he…deserved it.
A sick feeling twists in my stomach, and I’m hit with a wave of nausea. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to doubt him. I love him. But the truth is, I just can’t know.
Dad’s still muttering curses under his breath as he moves around the shop, examining the wreckage. I want to help out, but when Dad gets like this, it’s best to just give him his space. So I head to the office to make sure it didn’t get trashed too.
Thankfully, things look okay. I’m just about to leave when I see an old manila envelope on the desk, some papers sticking out of it. I’ve been in this office countless times and have never seen it, or anything like it, before.
I should just leave it alone. It’s probably related to my dad’s business, but if that’s the case, why does it look so alien? Like it doesn’t belong here?
I glance over my shoulder and see Dad lifting one of the Harleys up off its side, cursing when he sees the damage. I turn back to the desk and pick up the envelope and reach inside.
And that’s when I see it.
An old photograph, worn and faded, buried beneath a bunch of old letters. Slowly, I pull it out, and as my eyes move across the people in frame, my stomach plummets.
A group of men standing outside a clubhouse not that different than the one The Heartless Bastards own. Leather jackets, bikes, and devilish smiles on their faces like they own the world.
Above them hangs a banner: Smoke and Skulls .
And right in the middle of the group, standing with his arms crossed and his dirty blond hair hanging in his face, is Slate.
He’s younger, a teenager probably, but it’s definitely him.
All the breath rushes from my lungs, and my knees go weak. I brace myself against my dad’s desk as panic hits me.
Slate was one of them.
The same men who just busted up my dad’s shop.
The same men who tried to take me away when I was a child.
The same men who destroyed my family.
And now, because of him, they are back. Ready to finish what they started years ago.
“Now you know,” my father sighs behind me. I turn, tears welling in my eyes. “Haven’t looked at it in years. Opened it up after the shop was hit. Saw him standing there.”
I can’t even find the words to speak.
“I warned you about biker guys, Ivy. They talk a big game, tell you what you wanna hear, but in the end? They’re nothing but trouble.”
My eyes burn, threatening to fall down my cheeks. But I don’t let them. I don’t have the whole truth yet. And I just can’t believe that Slate would knowingly do anything to hurt me or my family.
But there is one thing I’m sure about.
Slate lied to me.
And I’m going to find out why.
My knuckles go white as I grip my phone and dial Slate’s number. He doesn’t answer. My dad just watches as I grab the keys to his truck and head for the door.
“Where the hell are you going?” he barks.
“You know,” I reply as I step outside. I hear his voice calling out as the door swings shut behind me.
“You’re playing with fire! You know what happens when you do that, right?”