“I do.”
“Gil, it’s been years—”
“I’m not basing this on my memories of you. I’m basing it on what I know about you right now. You couldn’t have gone through what you’ve been through and succeeded in the way you have unless everything I said was true.”
“I’m not...”
He didn’t interrupt her this time. And he also didn’t seem to expect a response. He settled back into his chair. A full minute passed. She knew because she counted to sixty.
Maybe because he decided she wasn’t going to finish her thought, he pulled his phone from his pocket, swiped at the screen, then settled in to read something.
Another minute passed.
“Ivy, I can feel your tension from here. Try to relax.”
“I can’t.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I’m waiting for you to interrogate me.” Surely he was ready for her to explain her behavior.
He frowned. “I didn’t bring you in here to interrogate you. I brought you in here so you could have some peace and quiet.”
He didn’t elaborate. He seemed to be trying to speak as little as possible. She closed her eyes again, but she couldn’t let it go. “I thought it might be some kind of reverse psychology technique.” She didn’t know why, but she spoke softly. “Instead of bright lights and steel tables and chairs, you settle the suspect into a cozy chair, dim the lights, and lull them into complacency until they spill their guts.”
Gil’s response wasn’t much above a low hum. “I’ll keep that idea in mind if I ever have a suspect who would benefit from that treatment. Maybe I’ll see if Leslie can get me a few scented candles and some massage music.”
“That would definitely tip me over the edge.”
“You aren’t a suspect, Ivy.” There was an edge to Gil’s voice. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Your world has been upended, and you’re being forced to share personal information with people who are little more than strangers instead of doing what you should be doing.”
“What should I be doing?”
“You should be at home, tucked under a fuzzy blanket, reading a good book, sleeping anytime you want. You should have someone making sure you have something good to eat, access to your pain meds, and space to process. But I can’t give you any of that, so what you’re getting is the most comfortable chair in the building and a few minutes to breathe.”
She opened her eyes and discovered he wasn’t looking at hisphone. His phone was on the table beside him. He had his elbows on his knees and his hands in his hair.
“Thank you.”
At her words, he straightened. “Not sure you were listening, Buttercup. I just laid out all the reasons you have for hating me right now.”
“I could never hate you.”
Something that looked a lot like hope flashed in his eyes and in the quiet room, she heard him swallow. “Ivy, you don’t really know me anymore.”
“I’m not talking about the nine-year-old Gil I left behind.” Or the seventeen-year-old whose heart she broke. The words, unspoken, hung between them. “I’m talking about the Gil who walked into my nightmare and could have wished me luck and went on his merry way but instead is walking through it with me. The Gil who slept on his couch last night and who I suspect got very little sleep. The Gil who is protecting me from everyone, including himself.”
He stared into her eyes, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t tell if what he was thinking was good or bad.
A low “Yo!” came from somewhere down the hall and sliced through the web that had spun between them.
Gil stood and offered her his hand. She took it, and when he tugged her to her feet, she expected him to step back, but he pulled until she was leaning against him. He tipped her chin up and she could feel his breath against her cheek. “Don’t count on me protecting you from me for long, Buttercup.”
13
HE SHOULD HAVE KEPT his big mouth shut.
Ivy had all but bolted from the room after he made that stupid remark, and she hadn’t been alone with him since. Faith, Tessa, and Emily had banded together and insisted that what Ivy needed was a girls’ night in.
