“I’m not now.”
“Well, maybe it’s too late.” She whipped her hand out of my grip and held onto her shirt in a fist. Her breathing picked up fast. “Will we run out of oxygen?”
“No.”
You don’t know that, idiot.
Lie to her! She is freaking out.
Do we have to pee? I think we do?
“Tell me a fact, Ivy.” I scooted closer to her, not touching her but enough to feel her heat and breathe her in. The fact she smelled the same, and good, made me miss her even more.
It was strange. I had good friends, close friends, who knew me well, but they paled in comparison to our past. Ivy and I had lived through heartbreak together, through ups and downs. When I used to imagine the future, she was always there with me. Celebrating getting drafted, visiting me in my penthouse (because obviously I wanted to live in one). Our kids playing together. But suddenly, the thought of her having kids withsomeone else made me want to punch a wall. That sounded terrible, actually.
“F-fact: I’ve pretended I didn’t miss you for three years.”
My throat constricted, like someone gripped it and withheld air. The raw pain in her voice was too much, too real. My instincts were to joke it off, make an excuse,runfrom acknowledging the root of it.Me.
Every muscle went taut, my pulse radiating chest to fingertips as I took a few calming breaths. “Did you?—”
“Fact: I tried texting and reaching out to you for weeks after that summer. You never responded.”
“Ivy—”
“Fact,” she said, her voice growing louder. “Youhurtme so badly I’m still not okay. I think I am, most days, but then a memory hits, and my heart aches all over again.”
I opened my mouth, but she turned to her side, her green eyes ablaze with emotion. She shook her head, and I shut up.
“I spent my entire life not being enough for people. You were the one person I felt that way with. Safe.Home.No matter how bad my parents were or people at school or even my body… I had you. You made me feel like I had a place.And you left me without warning. You made me feel like I didn’t matter.” She swallowed. “I know I do. I had to rebuild my confidence alone, and I’m grateful because I’m strong as hell. You might not be asking for forgiveness, but I’m telling you, I don’t know if I can give it.”
My inner monologue was going off the rails. I was her home, and she didn’t have one anymore. Of course, she mattered. What the fuck? I wanted to argue back, explain things, help her understand what had happened and that it hadn’t beenleaving herin the slightest. She was rightful in her hurt and anger.
Before I could even try to respond to her, the elevator vibrated for a second before moving.
“What is this?” she whispered, fear lacing her tone. “What?—”
“It’s fixed.” I stood and held out a hand to help her up.
She refused.
Her throat bobbed as she wrapped her arms around herself, a terrified look on her face. The doors opened, and she bolted out. I shouldered her bag and followed, each step weighing on me.
Adrenaline must’ve fueled her because she walked fast toward her door at the end of the hall, unlocked it, and glared at me. “You’re not coming in.”
“Yeah, I am. You need pretzels.”
She blinked, slowly, her lips parting in confusion.
“I remember your favorite snack, Ivy. I know you need the salt whenever you have a little freak out. I won’t stay long, and we don’t have to talk, but I’m going to make sure you’re okay and get your snack. Do you have any, or should I run out to buy some?”
She stared at me for a second, the fury and hurt gone from her eyes. Instead, a curious softness painted her face. It didn’t last long before she shoved the door open wider. Then, without a word, she marched toward her kitchen.
7
IVY
Ihated that he remembered my favorite snack. It felt too intimate, too personal, toomuch.My throat burned, the leftover fear of being stuck in the elevator too much stress for me to deal with. For whatever reason, stress left my injuries aching more. Like so much of my body’s energy went into fight or flight mode that it forgot to support my old injuries.
