Speaking of.
“I need to call someone real quick, and then I’ll call you right back to check on you,” I tell her.
“What? Okay, Wes? You’re not coming home, alright?” There’s a plea in her voice, but I ignore it. “I promise. I’m fine, baby,” she says quietly.
“Oh, barf!” I hear Sophie in the background.
Ivy giggles again, but then says more seriously, “You’re not coming home.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Watch me.”
————
Calling the woman I’m in love with in hopes of having some hot as fuck phone sex again, but being greeted by my hysterical sister telling me the one I love is in factdying, is not my most favorite thing to have happened to me.
That’s why I’m opening my front door at five in the morning, two days earlier than planned, in desperate need to see Ivy in the flesh. I need to see that she’s okay for myself. Ivy protested furiously about my return, ensuring me she was absolutely fine. But it wasn’t good enough.
Even after Beau checked Ivy over, and concluded she would be just fine, I still booked the very next flight home. Ivy had a lot of opinions about Beau coming over with Sophie there, but I don’t give a shit about my sister’s lovers quarrels when Ivy’s life is on the table. When I said the same thing to Ivy, she reminded me that her life was firmlynoton the table.
Not good enough. It’s not good enough.
I need to see her, touch her, hold her.
Sophie did apologize for her dramatics, remembering that claiming the woman in my life is dying, could be triggering for me.
Understatement.
That entire phone call was a nightmare. Hearing Ivy’s ragged breaths, trying to instruct and tame a wild, frantic Sophie had me feeling entirely hopeless.
I was hours away, in another state, with absolutely no way of stopping my worst fear from happening. Thank god Ivy had what she needed in the house, but what would’ve happened if she didn’t? Would an ambulance have made it in time? Could she have made it to the emergency room in time?
Intrusive thoughts andwhat if’shaunted me my entire flight. Ironically,Ifeel like I haven't been able to breathe since last night. Each mile closer to Ivy has lessened the noose on my ribs, and the only thing that I’ve been able to think of, is that I haven’t told her I love her.
What if I lost her and I didn’t get a chance to tell her how utterly and completely gone for her I am. I drop my bag by the door, and toe off my boots, careful to be as quiet as possible to not disturb the house.
It’s dark and silent, along with the world outside. The only light on is the small lamp in the kitchen Ivy brought with her when she moved in, in addition to her spiel about never using the “Big light.” Whatever that means. A light is a light.
I creep down the hall, and peek into Lilah’s room. Her tiny sleeping form is upside down in her bed. Head,at the foot of her bed, and completely splayed out. And of course, snoring.
I continue down the hall, and peek into the guest room, finding a pile of blonde sticking out of the blankets. I need to thank Soph for staying over. I know she was just as shaken up last night as I was, and it gives me a peace of mind that Ivy had someone here for her all night.
Time to go get my girl.
I quicken my pace, moving deftly through the house. I come to a stop outside my shut bedroom door, and take a deep breath. I crack it open quietly and slip in, shutting the door once more behind me. The room is cool and dark, but the faint silver morning light just barely lights the space through the blinds, giving me just enough visibility, but not waking Ivy.
I approach with gentle steps, and see Ivy on my side of the bed, face buried in my pillow. Her long inky strands are fanned out on the white sheets, and like a homing beacon, I run my fingers through the wild waves and finally,finallybreathe.
Ivy starts to stir in the cloud of blankets, lifting her hands above her head to stretch like a lazy cat and wiggle. Finally rolling over, she blinks her sleepy eyes open, and our gazes lock.
“Hi,” I sigh out heavier than intended.
Still stroking her hair, I move to her face and caress her cheekbone with my thumb, taking her in, and chanting the words in my head I hope will calm my racing heart.
She’s okay. She’s okay. She’s okay.
I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised I don’t crack a molar. “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay?” I whisper.
“Okay,” she replies softly, her voice still rough from sleep.
