Chapter 5
Micah
The clatter of cans hitting the ground pulls me up short as I hop out of my truck into a fucking humid ass day. There’s a storm on the horizon and it looks apocalyptic.
“That sucks,” I murmur, craning my neck to see whoever dropped a week’s worth of food in the parking lot. Most of it is probably salvageable, but no one likes picking groceries off the pavement. Even in September, concrete gets hot in the Keys.
I lean on my truck, pulling my phone out of my pocket to shoot Tucker a text.
I’ll be at your house in a few.
Tucker
Sure, sure. Threaten the injured guy
Guess I’ll look for someone else who needs bags full of toys and food for his family then
How long can I take advantage of your misplaced guilt before I start being the asshole in this situation?
A choked sob comes from somewhere in the parking lot. Feminine. Small. I furrow my brows as wind rips the sound away, then give my attention back to my conversation with Tucker.
Start? Dude. You’ve always been the asshole
The phone goes back in my pocket, and I head for the store before the rain unleashes holy hell.
Rounding the corner, I find a woman on her hands and knees, wiping tears from her cheeks as she gathers scattered groceries off the pavement.
A can rolls my way and I stop it with a foot at the same time my brain puts together the pieces of the picture in front of me.
That isn’t just any woman, crying in the middle of a parking lot, tracking down groceries on her hands and knees on burning pavement while a storm brews.
That’s Ivy.
Teenaged me actually believed she would be my wife one day. Like when our paths inevitably crossed again, we’d fall right back into the way things used to be.
Since the fire, I’ve tried to put her out of my mind. Tried and failed. Over and over, right up until Nathan mentioned her at the bar and she became the only thing I could think about.
And now here she is, right in front of me. Still looking small…
Frail…
Crying…
“Ivy.” Her name tastes like memories and feels like hope. I smile, despite everything.
The expression fades when she glances up.
Tears stream down her face and she squeezes her eyes shut as if she can’t stand the sight of me. “Not today,” she mutters as wind lashes her hair. “Not now.”
She’s not talking to me.
She can barely bring herself to look at me.
“Hey.” I crouch, putting a hand on her shoulder and she stills.
Nothing. No glance in my direction. No smile of recognition. Just her, staring at the pavement while her entire body quivers and shakes. Her breath is short and shallow. I’d give money this is a panic attack, and it kills me to see her like this.
Placing a finger to her chin, I lift her gaze to mine. “Come on now. Spilled groceries aren’t worth tears in your Cheerios.”
She snorts at the phrase we used when we were kids, an inside joke about the day we found my little brother, Levi, crying over video games at breakfast. The brief laugh dissolves into tears and she hangs her head, her shoulders shaking and quaking and what the hell is going on?
Carefully wrapping an arm around her waist, I help her stand. “Come on. I’ve got you. Let’s get you off the ground.”
“But the food…” Ivy clutches a can of peaches to her chest. “I’ve gotta clean up this mess and oh no, no, no, the eggs are ruined…”
Her breath speeds and she starts to tremble again, placing a hand to her heart while she sags into my arms.
“Hey now, hey. Look at me. Look at me. Everything’s gonna be all right. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”
Her pale blue eyes meet mine and the past and the present collide. She was my everything and that feeling hasn’t faded. It’s right there, still burning a hole in my chest.
She glances back at the mess. “But—”
“Let’s take care of you first, then we’ll worry about the food. This you?” I gesture to a car that is so unlike anything Ivy would drive. Clear coat missing. Rust winning the war against red paint. Since when would her dad let her behind the wheel of something this jacked? “Is it unlocked?”
She jostles a set of keys out of her purse and hands them over.
I click the fob, then lead her to the passenger seat and crouch.
My hands on her knees. Eyes on hers. Fuck, that face.
I used to know every inch of it. Now there’s tension crouching in her brows, fear hollowing out her gaze. I’ve never seen her look like this.
A crack of thunder has her jumping out of her skin and tears well in her eyes.
At least one thing hasn’t changed. Ivy never did like storms.
“You just breathe.” I pat her knees and stand. “I’ll get your food off the ground.”
It’s a small haul, just the necessities. The eggs are shot, but aside from a few dents and dings, everything else survived. I shove it into bags that aren’t broken, then deposit them in the back before returning to Ivy.
Her breathing has slowed, and the tears have stopped, but she still looks so…sad.
Broken.
Pale.
“Thank you.” She won’t meet my eyes. “I’m so embarrassed—” She chokes on a sob and swallows hard, shaking her head like she can free herself from whatever’s going on in there.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Not between us.” Questions hide in my words. What happened between us, Ives? Why don’t you want me around?
Ivy huffs, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
It doesn’t sound like a compliment, and I sigh deeply. “I may have heard that once or twice in my life.” But never from her. Never like this. “What’s going on? What happened?”
Those simple questions encapsulate so much. Why are you sad? Why do you look at me like an enemy when I see you as the girl who will always be for me? Why are you having a panic attack in a parking lot, driving a beat-up car, and living in a house that isn’t big enough for the three of you?
“I just got a call from the school. Nell fell on the playground.”
“Nell.” I try the name on, rolling it around in my mouth, coming to terms with my Ives as a mother to another man’s child. I rock back on my heels and stand.
Nell…
“My daughter.” Ivy’s eyes meet mine with a lift of her chin. She’s defiant now. Challenging me to say anything about the little girl whose existence proves I didn’t mean as much to her as I thought I did.
I lean against the car, folding my arms over my chest. “Is she okay? She didn’t get hurt, did she?”
“She’s fine. But between the fire and—” Ivy closes her eyes, shaking her head. “It’s just been a lot. When the bags broke, I guess I kind of did too.”
“I totally understand.”
“Well, that’s mighty good of you.” Her jaw tenses and her brows furrow. Furious. Belligerent. Staring through me like she wishes she could burn a hole through my brain.
I don’t get it. Ivy is strong. Stubborn. But never antagonistic and certainly not without cause.
“Did I do something to make you mad?”
Shock paints an image of the girl I used to know over the woman in front of me. A spitfire who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, especially me. She swallows it down. “Of course not, Micah. Whatever could you have done?”
Her voice is sweet…and deadly.
I crouch again, cup her cheek, suddenly desperate to get to the heart of things. “Because it sure seems like you’re mad at me and you’ve always been…I always thought…”
The words die on my lips because what am I going to say? I always thought you’d come back to me and we’d pick up where we left off? That one day you’d be Ivy Hutton and your daughter would be our daughter and we’d live happily ever after?
Ivy’s eyes meet mine and there it is. The flash of heat that’s always existed between us.
This pull. This certainty. This knowing that we were going to beat the odds because there’s something here.
Something real. Her gaze darts to my mouth and it feels so much like I remember.
An invitation. A wanting. We click, like pieces of a puzzle, coming together to make a whole.
I lean a little closer, ready to remember the taste of those lips.
Her hand covers mine. Leaning closer now.
The heat between us builds and I don’t know which of us closes the distance, but her lips are soft against mine.
Insistent. Warm and sweet and everything I remember.
This is the way I imagined us coming back together.
Drawn to each other because true love never dies.
Her hands brush through my hair like they did when we were seventeen.
Her touch is almost reverent until she freezes…
…pulls back…
…blinks away the past in favor of whatever the fuck is happening now.
“Micah…”
There’s a ring on her finger. A diamond the size of Manhattan. Pretentious. Expensive. I drop my hand from her cheek and stare.
“Oh.” The word falls into the conversation as I process the implications.
She twists the thing around her finger. It’s the kind of ring her dad would approve of, unlike the small house and decaying car.
“I left him. Or, well, I’m in the process of leaving him. I left the ring on for Nell.”
“Is he her dad?”
Ivy’s brows furrow. Her lips part. She looks almost dumbfounded by the question until her eyes harden and her lips purse. “The only one she’s ever known.”
“Can I—” I start the question before I know which of the thousands I have is coming out, but it doesn’t matter.
Ivy holds up a hand. “I appreciate the help, but I need to go. There’s just, well, there’s a lot on my plate right now, Micah, and I don’t have the energy for whatever game you think you’re playing.”
“Game?” But I’m backing up, allowing her space to stand. She’s made it clear our relationship wasn’t what I thought it was. That I was a fool for ever thinking we were more than a stupid high school fling.
“You can’t just start caring out of the blue.” She presses her lips together, daring me to say otherwise.
It’s a challenge I can’t pass up. “I’ve always cared. Always.”
But Ivy’s too angry to hear me. She stands and stalks around the front of the car. “I’ve got to get home,” she murmurs, more to herself than to me. “Nell’s probably back from school by now.”
I want to ask her what the fuck is happening. How can she kiss me like that and then tell me I’m playing games? If anyone’s playing anything, it’s her.
But for once in my life, I keep my mouth shut.
“Have a better day, Ives,” I say while she lowers herself into the driver’s seat, shaking her head, leaving me to wonder if I’ve ever been right about anything in my life.