King:
Okay. Sleep well, brain scan girl.
Ivy:
That’s the worst nickname I’ve ever been given.
King:
You’ll learn to love it.
Ivy:
Doubtful. Good night, King.
King:
Good night, Ivy.
I stare at the screen for a long time, reading and rereading her messages. Whoever this Ivy is over text, she’s nothing like the woman who glared at me in the therapy room.
Next week, Ivy Chandler starts working with our team in person.
And at some point, she’s going to realize exactly who I am.
Something tells me this is going to blow up in my face.
5
IVY
Stay Away From Him
My laptop blinks with concussion data that makes no sense. Then my phone lights up with a text that does.
King:
Question: If you could redesign the human brain from scratch, what would you change?
My lips twitch before I can stop them. I adjust properly on my living room couch and reread the text.
It’s been days of messages from King, each one more impossible to ignore than the last. Every text feels like unwrapping a rare gift.
I should focus on the spreadsheet glowing accusingly from the screen. But my fingers are already typing back.
Ivy:
A) Remove the part that makes us second guess ourselves B) Boost the section for emotional regulation C) Maybe add a delete button for embarrassing memories.
King:
Are you still thinking about that embarrassing memory?
Unwelcome heat crawls down my spine. The image of that naked, tattooed disaster of a man appears in my mind.
No. Not thinking about that or him. Or those piercing green eyes.
Ivy:
