I just hope she’s the only one.
Chapter 12
Ivy
My stomach twists as last night plays on repeat in my mind.
The way he carried her to bed. I know I'm being ridiculous because she's his fiancée, but… actually no. Fuck no.
I turn away from the window, yanking open drawers until I find what I'm looking for—a fresh bikini.
The fabric is cold against my skin as I change, goosebumps racing across my flesh.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and pause. My eyes are wild, unguarded in a way that makes me look away. This is what jealousy looks like on me—ugly and raw and everything I swore I'd never be.
Hair up. Messy. Strands already escaping. The coat's heavy, boots snug.
I shove a towel, last night's wine, and a crumpled map into my beach bag.
Fuck it. If I'm gonna lose my mind, might as well do it somewhere beautiful.
The spring. A small symbol drawn in ink, somewhere deep in the forest. My thumb traces over it, smudging the line. Hot springs in this frozen paradise—I'd laughed when I first saw it marked on the map. Now I'm desperate enough to believe in fairy tales.
The manor is quiet as I slip through the hall, just the distant clink of someone washing dishes in the kitchen. Everyone's at the Games, watching Asher. I'd watched him too, last night—the way his hands had cradled her head when he thought no one could see.
My boots punch through fresh snow as I head toward the tree line. It doesn’t take long before the trees start closing in around me. Finally. Alone.
I squint at the map, tilting it toward what little sunlight filters through the pines. My fingers are already going numb, the joints stiff and useless. The drawings blur together—that cluster of circles could be trees. Could be rocks. Could be fucking anything. I'm following what might be a path, or maybe just where deer have worn down the undergrowth.
The cold bites into my cheeks, leaving them raw and burning. I don't bother pulling up my scarf. Physical pain is easier than whatever this is, this hollow thing spreading beneath my ribs, eating through bone and cartilage. Jealousy.
God, I hate that word. Hate how it shrinks me down to nothing. Before Asher, I never looked at someone and thought, why her, not me? Never wanted to claw the answer out of my own chest.
“All you've ever had to fucking do is say the word.”
His voice echoes through my brain as I push deeper into the forest. Say what word? When? When he's carrying another woman to bed? When he’s entering new relationships? When he’s ghosting me?
When I’m not married anymore?
A branch snaps under my boot, loud in the winter silence. I freeze, heart in throat, before remembering there's no one to catch me here. No Asher with his knowing eyes. Just me, my pathetic jealousy, and these damn frozen tears I refuse to let fall.
I smell it before I see it—sulfur and minerals…and salt.
Trees spread apart, and I push harder, my boot catching on ice that nearly takes me down. Through a gap in the pines, steam curls up from a natural pool.
I laugh. Of course it would be beautiful. Of course the universe would hand me this perfect moment when I'm too pissed off to give a shit about it.
I dump my bag on a dry rock, fingers stupid with cold as they work at my coat buttons. The air bites into my skin, goosebumps erupting across my arms. I hiss through my teeth.Shit, it’s cold.But I need this—need to feel something real, even if it hurts.
Swiping the bottle of wine, I rip off the cork and spit it near my boots and coat.
I kick off my shoes, and wince when snow melts against my toes, causing me to dance awkwardly as I hop toward the steaming water.
I can be in the moment.
I'm free. Free from watching. Free from wanting. Free from him.
Even if it's just for a few hours.
