“I’m not sure if you’re trying to make me feel better or worse, but—”
Ivy threw back her head and laughed, and the sound warmed him from the soul outward. “Better! Trust me. I don’t want perfect. I want trustworthy, and strong, and loyal. I want someone I know will never let me down if he can help it. I want you.” She smoothed her palms over his face, then locked her fingers behind his neck. So close her breath was warm against his chin.
Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers, he murmured, “I let my brother down.” That singular fact would always haunt him.
“You let him protect you. He’d have been let down if you’d gotten yourself arrested for doing something totally out of character.” Ivy inhaled a deep breath. “Sean, look at me.”
He lifted his head, and the eyes that had become the center of his whole world burned into his.
She looked him dead in the eye, her crystal-blues glistening. “You are, and always have been, exactly the man I thought you were. AndI love you.” Her breath caught on the last three words, like she wanted to stop them, but they slipped out of her mouth, anyway. Pressing her lips together, she held her breath and stared at him.
“I love you too.” His words didn’t hesitate. “So much.” His voice cracked for the second time, but he couldn’t muster the willpower to care. This woman unmanned him, and he didn’t give a damn.
She was his best friend, his hero, his inspiration. She made him laugh and cry at the same time. He worried about her relentlessly and trusted her wholeheartedly. If he could only have one thing for the rest of his life, he’d pick her. Every time.
Needing to taste her more than his next breath, he crushed his lips against hers and drank her in, filling himself with her grace, her love, and her faith. How she had an abundance of all of it after what she’d survived he had no idea, but he was going to drink from her cup, because she sustained him. “You make me better,” he murmured between kisses. “All the way better.”
She pulled away. “We make each other better,” she amended, then leaned in again, pressing her lips gently against his. “Don’t let me go, okay?”
He chuckled because if she was being serious, she was the crazy one. “Not in this lifetime, sweetheart. Then he added, “and not the next one either.”
Then he wrapped arms around her, and held her, until the front door opened and Nana brought everyone in for tea.
EPILOGUE
The sun had already risen by the time Ivy and Sean set out for their morning run together. It shone brightly over the Willamette River and despite the winter temperature, it warmed Ivy’s cheeks as she ran.
There were only two more weeks until Christmas, and the trees along the river trail were strung with festive lights, reminding Ivy that they still had to put some on the tree they’d wrestled home the night before. Their home, because Sean had fully moved into her apartment shortly after they’d returned from Nana’s. Even his punching bag hung from the corner where Hope’s easel had once stood. The apartment was now a perfect blend of them both. Gym equipment and a vase of roses on the coffee table. Physio mats and running shoes. The purple heart pillow rested on their couch, while Sean’s big TV took up most of one wall. It was home.
And for now, the apartment across the hall sat empty.
As she ran alongside Sean, Ivy reflected on the season of change she was in. She’d started seeing a counselor to help process the things that still needed working through. Sean had even attended a few sessions with her, and while those were heavy, emotional hours, they were the best therapy she’d ever had.
Jordan had returned to Chicago to tie things up before moving permanently to Portland to work at Sean’s gym and attend community college.
Nana had plans to stay with them over Christmas which had motivated Sean to reno the second bedroom into a guest room befitting English nobility—which Nana fancied herself to be.
And for the first time in three years Ivy was truly excited about her future. It no longer loomed in front of her, like a mountain waiting to be climbed. It was now a highly anticipated journey onward.
As the crisp winter air rushed in and out of her lungs while they ran, she relished in a true sense of reclaiming her life. In the last couple of weeks, she’d truly given herself permission to feel joy and delight, andthatwas her ultimate freedom. Every minute, she put more distance from the terrible day that had haunted her for far too long.
Wanting to savor the moment she was experiencing, Ivy slowed to a stop by her favorite spot overlooking the Steel Bridge. Of the many bridges that crossed the river, this one was her favorite. Unique in its vertical-lift and double-deck structure, the bridge had stood since 1912, weathering many storms, carrying countless travelers back and forth. Reliable and sturdy.
Walking to the guardrail she leaned against it and inhaled the fresh morning air as Sean came up behind her. Strong arms looped around her waist, drawing her back against solid muscle. Reliable and sturdy. She curled into him, humming her pleasure when his chin came to rest on the top of her head. When he held her like this, cocooned in his strength, she felt completely protected.
“I can’t believe he’s dead.” She spoke into the open air, her gaze tracking the ribbon of cars crossing the bridge.
Sean’s arms pulled tighter.
After the incident in the alley, Ivy decided that after three years, she was done shoulder checking. Done worrying about wherehewas and if she would seehimagain. Done living in fear that she’d be blindsided like she had been that night at the bar with Adam. She was tired of seeing ghosts everywhere she went. Of wondering if he knew where she was.
So one evening, after Thai takeout and half a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, she’d opened her laptop and asked Sean to sit beside her on the couch. With his arm around her shoulders, holding her close, she Googled Ethan’s name.
It seemed like something she should have done ages ago, but the stranglehold of her fear had often prevented her from doing the simplest things. Like type a name into a search engine. As if Ethan could climb through the screen and grab her. As if he could check her search history and track her down. As if he even remembered her.
But it turned out, none of those thoughts mattered, because the first thing that popped up when she hit the Enter button was Ethan’s obituary.
The news landed with a dull thud. On the one hand, she’d been robbed of the closure she was finally ready for. On the other, she was relieved that no matter what her recovery looked like down the road, she never had to be afraid ofhimagain. It was over. The stuff of her nightmares was gone. And there was a respite in that. A different kind of closure.
