But he’s only looking at me.
Chapter Forty-Four
IVY’S SHOULDERS MOVE down and away from her ears the second she sees me. It doesn’t matter that we fought the other day. Because this reaction? It’s everything.
I’m not naive to think we won’t have to talk about it. I know we will; just not tonight.
After I share how the call with Stella went, I can see the tension melt from her face. She was for sure waiting for me to say she was in some sort of trouble. Ivy seems to always expect bad news.
Stella was surprised to hear about Royce’s behavior and was only concerned about Ivy and her well-being. She asked me to share updates with her until Ivy’s ready to talk. She also promised to keep it between us—at this time.
Royce is an asshole and Ivy is entertaining the possibility she did something wrong. She’s always wanting to take the blame. Her need for control is clear. I get it.
The rage I felt when I saw Royce handling her like a thing and not a person. The look on her face hits me all over again. Ivy—typically bright and brave, shaking and her eyes wide.
My face is hot and my heart beats in my ears.
At the bar, we sit through hours of karaoke. It’s kind of a nightmare but it makes Ivy belly laugh. At one point, she stands up at our table and sings along with the person on stage. The crowd loves it and cheers her on. I make sure to get a picture of her, with her “fans,” clapping for her in the background.
I hope it isn’t insensitive. I’m sure there’s a ton she wishes she’d never be able to recall about today. But seeing her dancing like she’s the only person in the room convinced me that taking the photo was the right move.
After the day she had, I’m in awe. She’s radiant. It could very well be fueled by rage and peanut butter, but who fucking cares.
I admire her and her resilience.
I nudge the glass of ice water her way. She takes a long drink. I move my chair close to hers and lean in.
“How are you feeling?” She’s only had the two cider flights and is sober.
“Fine,” she replies.
“Really?” I ask, my mouth close to her ear. The karaoke is loud.
“As fine as I can be,” she confirms.
“I know you love a plan, so let’s make one. Where do you want to stay tonight? I can take you back to the lodge, or you can stay at my place.” My voice is level. Honestly, I’d be fine with whatever she picks.
She sits and contemplates for a few seconds. “Your place. You have Slate.”
“Sounds good. He’ll love it.”
He’s not the only one.
We’re back at my place and Slate clearly missed Ivy. I haven’t seen him greet someone like this, maybe ever.
Without the distraction of bad karaoke, Ivy looks tired. I can’t imaginehow she feels after today. Hell, the last couple of days.
Ivy is sitting on the living room floor, petting Slate—he can’t get enough. I’m sitting on the couch and watching them.
When I think she’s about to fall asleep, she says, “Today was not my favorite.”
“Mine either,” I reply.
Her facial expression goes from listening to confusion. She furrows her dark brows, creating these cute wrinkles in her forehead.
“What happened to you?” She sits up, sincerely concerned.
“I saw Royce with his hands on you. That’s what happened.”
