Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Standing on the sidewalk, we watch them walk to Rosalia's car. Her driver gets out and opens the door for them. Before getting inside, Lillianna turns and gives a little wave. Despite her worry, she looks lighter than when she arrived.
Maybe that’s the point. Not to solve everything or even anything, but to not be alone with our worries.
Madison and I wait until their car disappears around the corner. "You want to walk home?" I ask. It's only about fifteen minutes from here, and I need the air.
Madison nods.
We’re silent for the first few blocks. Madison keeps her hands shoved in the pockets of her jacket, her gaze on the sidewalk. I don't push. She'll talk when she's ready.
Finally, as we turn onto the street of our hotel, she says, “Do you think he'll be pushed from his family's business?”
I picture Thorne's face when I left. Exhausted. Protective. Alone.
"I don't know," I say honestly. "It sounds like it will come down to Sebastian."
"Sebastian's not going to vote against him." Madison sounds so sure. "He can't be that mad."
“I hope you’re right.” We reach our building, and the automatic door opens for us. “Like I said earlier, family is complicated."
We skip the elevator and take the stairs. Inside, Madison drops onto the couch. Marley bolts from my room and hops onto her lap.
"Are you done with him?” Then, as if I don’t know who she meant, she says, "With Thorne.”
That's the question, isn't it?
I pull my knees to my chest. I’d needed space to figure out who I am without him, what I want that isn't tangled up in his pain and his promises.
“I have no idea," I admit.
Madison is quiet for a long moment. Then asks, "Do you love him?"
My hand freezes where it's resting on my knee.
I think about Thorne waiting for me at the pool, us swimming laps together. The way he listened when I talked. His rare smiles that were just for me. How he looked at Madison, like she was something fragile he didn't quite know how to handle but was determined not to break.
The way he stood in that doorway and let me go, even though I could see it was killing him.
"I don't know," I whisper. But it's a lie, and we both know it.
The problem isn't whether I do or don’t. The problem is that I don’t trust him to love me as I need to be loved.
"He hurt me," I say, more to myself than to Madison.
"But you still care about him."
"Yes." Heat pricks behind my eyes. "And that's the problem."
Madison pulls her legs up onto the couch, mirroring my position. "What are you going to do?"
“No clue.”
But even as I say it, I’m turning over possibilities. Sebastian. The vote. Whether there's anything I could or should do to help.
Whether loving someone means saving them from themselves or letting them fall.
We sit in silence, thinking about Thorne. About family. About what happens when the people you care about are facing battles you can't fight for them.
Eventually, Madison stands. “I’m going to call Tracy,” she says, but pauses in the hallway. "I think he loves you too. Even if he sucks at showing it."
Then she closes the door between our suite’s living room and her bedroom, leaving me with my thoughts. I sit on the couch for a while longer, staring at nothing. Then I move to the small balcony and look out over Louisville.
The city stretches before me, buildings catching the late afternoon sun, and somewhere out there, Thorne is working himself to exhaustion, preparing for a battle he might not win. Or giving up…
I pull my phone from my back pocket. Stare at his contact.
Call him? Delete his number?
My thumb hovers over his name.
We left things messy. Painful. But we didn't leave them finished.
I tap his name and press the phone to my ear. It rings once. Twice.
"Ivy." His voice is gravelly, like he hasn't slept, but sounds sober.
"I heard about the board meeting. About Warren trying to remove you."
A long pause. "Lillianna told you."
"She did." I grip the railing of the balcony tighter. "I'm here. If you need someone to talk to."
“Thank you.”
Another pause, longer this time. "I care about you, Ivy,” he says quietly, almost a whisper. “You know that, right?"
My heart aches. I miss him so much it's physical, a hollow space in my chest where he used to be. "I do.”
"I'm trying to respect what you asked for. The distance. But damn, I want you here. I’m not asking, just speaking the truth.”
"I know." And I do. He hasn't called. Hasn't shown up. Hasn't tried to fix this with grand gestures, money, or deals. For Thorne, that's growth. "I care about you too, Thorne. But I don't trust you. Not yet."
"I understand." He sounds tired. Resigned. "That's fair."
There's a beat of silence. I close my eyes, listening to him breathe.
"So I'm not calling as... whatever we were. I'm calling as someone who understands what it's like to face something hard alone. And who doesn't think you should have to."
A breath, shaky on his end. "Thank you."
We let the silence settle between us, connected by the phone and nothing else.
"The vote will be on the same day as the meeting,” he finally says.
"I heard.”
"I don't know which way it'll go."
"Neither do I. But you'll be able to handle either outcome."
“Can I..." He stops. Starts again. "After. When it's over. Call and talk with you? Not about anything. No agenda. Just talk.”
My hand tightens on the phone. "Yeah. We can talk."
"Okay." Relief colors the single word. "Okay."
Neither of us moves to hang up. The silence stretches, but it's not empty. It's full of everything we're not saying.
"Thorne?"
"Yeah?"
"Good luck at the meeting.”
"Ivy?" His voice catches. "Thank you for calling."
We say goodbye, and I lower the phone. I wipe away a tear and stare out at the city.
I'm building my life here in Kentucky. My practice. My future with Madison. The life I choose.
And somewhere in that life, there might be room for Thorne Blackstone.
But first, we both need to figure out who we are on our own.
Then maybe we can figure out who we are together.