“Only the finest frozen water for one of our best players in decades.”
“You a Woodpeckers fan?”
“As if there’s any other option,” Ivy huffs playfully. “Besides, The Treehouse is basically a second home for my family,” she continues, mentioning the nickname of our home arena.
“You could’ve said the Peacocks instead,” I point out the obvious.
“My dad would disown me if I rooted for the other team. He yells at the TV, coaching from the couch, unless he’s at the game. Thinks he knows the line changes better than your actual coaching staff does.”
I grin, or at least I think I do. “Don’t go anywhere,” she says, knowing damn well I won’t. “I’ll get those ice chips for you.”
She steps out of the room, leaving me alone for the first time since waking up. I take deep breaths, trying to get my rampant thoughts together. The same stupid rule my father drilled into me as a kid plays on loop: don’t feel too much, don’t show too much.
A few moments pass and I wonder if Ivy forgot about me. Then the door opens, followed by a faint rattle of ice as she comes back.
“Told you I’d deliver. Give me your hand,” she says gently. “I’ll place a cup in it.”
I lift my right hand toward where she’s standing. Her fingers brush my wrist first, sliding down to my palm. She turns it up and sets the plastic holding the ice there. I tighten my grip, trying not to spill the content.
“Easy,” she murmurs. “Bring it up slowly.”
I raise the container, tilting it until a few pieces hit my open mouth. The comfortable silence falls between us as I chew.
“Ivy,” I whisper her name after repeating the action four times.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for not treating me like I’m broken.”
"You’re not broken. You’re going through something unexpected. That’s not the same."
“Still feels as if my life ended as I knew it.”
“We’ll survive one ice chip at a time.”
I fall silent, letting her words settle deep in my chest. The comforting way she saidweinstead ofyou. As though she has decided I won’t face the changes alone.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoyingly smart?” I mumble.
She laughs again. “All the time. Occupational hazard.”
“Remind me to stay on your good side then.”
“You’re doing fine so far.”
“You always this good at talking people off ledges?” I shift, grunting when every bruise in my body protests the movement.
“Only the ones worth saving.”
Her affirming words land somewhere in the hidden part of me. The part I keep locked away from the world. “Guess I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Theodore,” she replies, my name sounding even better coming from her lips the second time. “Now it’s time for my rounds. I’ll check in on you afterward.”
I nod in reply. A soft click marks her exit. The fear tries to fill me, but with Ivy’s uplifting voice in my head and the faint smell of coconut lingering in the air, it feels less suffocating. Before falling back asleep, my mind repeats her name.Ivy.That’s one I won’t forget.
5
IVY
