The pause was so long that Gabe wondered if Xander had hung up on him.
“We’ve all been there. Let us know if you need anything. I’ll get back to you about the phone.”
“Thanks.” Gabe ended the call.
Looking at the lights below him, the ocean in the distance, he sighed. So many good things he had, and he threw them away because he wanted to chase the illusionary perfection of his brother. He didn’t deserve Ivy.
Inside, he tapped on the bathroom door. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. I called my mom.” Her voice caught.
“Yeah?”
“I have a flight out at noon tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Gabe kissed her. “Are you finished your bath?”
“Yeah.”
He held the towel out for her, and as she stepped out of the tub, he dried her off, wrapping the towel around her.
Reaching behind her, he emptied the tub, then hugged her.
“I’ll drive you.” He cradled her in his arms, kissing her head.
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I know,” Ivy said. “I need sleep.”
He tucked her in, then climbed in beside her, wrapped his arms around her and listened to her as she fell asleep, relieved that she finally stopped crying, and for now, she was in his arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - IVY
Ivypulledonhersweater as she followed traffic flow through the airport. She didn’t want to stop, just wanted to make it outside, to get a cab to her parent’s house. During the entire hour and a half flight, she had tried to focus on her interview, running through a pitch in her head, but she couldn’t shake the image of Gabe, with his sad eyes and how tenderly he kissed her goodbye this morning. It could be their last goodbye.
They hadn’t talked much this morning. He had helped her pack. He drove her to the airport, his hand on her thigh during the entire drive. How did they return from his brother, taking her and throwing her into a hangar thing? Could they come back from that?
Ivy wiped her eyes and, finally outside, gulped in the air and shivered. She had just left the warm and pleasant morning breeze to this chilly, just before the arrival of spring, below zero day.
“Ivy!”
A sob caught in her throat. Standing beside his new cherry red pickup truck, his face grizzled, his brown eyes clear, with an Oilers hat on, was her Dad.
“Dad!” Ivy threw her arms around her him, tears flowing down her cheeks.
“There, there.” Her dad patted her back awkwardly. “Is this all you brought?”
“For now,” Ivy said. Her dad took her rolling suitcase from her, then her carry-on in the backseat.
“You didn’t have to get me.”
“I wanted to! What were you going to do, rent a car? When’s the last time you drove?”
Her dad hummed as he pulled out into the exiting traffic, and Ivy smiled, seeing a picture of their old dog, Groomer, hanging from his mirror.
“I drive in the city, Dad. And I was going to get a cab.”
