Ivy couldn’t get herself to worry about the tabloids, because big spots of hope were sprouting deep in her chest. Her shoulders rose as she nodded and pulled in a breath. “Okay.”
Marsha moved to the chair beside her and turned it so they were face to face. Marsha leaned in then, the posture mimicking moments Ivy had with her teenaged friends back in high school.
“Now then,” she said, sparks of delight dancing in her green eyes. “Tell me what happened while you were snowed-in with Easton Sparks.”
Chapter 16
“Hand me a Diet Coke, will you, Tim?” Chantelle sat beside Easton on the sofa before the big screen TV, resting a hand over her pregnant belly.
“Sure thing,” her husband, Tim, said. “Easton, you want anything? Water, beer, moonshine peaches?”
Easton grimaced and paused, the strange comment—along with the fact that Tim’s face was actually someone else’s face—making him realize that he wasn’t where he thought he was, where hisdreamingmind told him he was. He was sleeping in his tent among a spread of red rock petroglyphs in Nevada.
“Sure,” Easton told Tim anyway. “I’ll take a water.”
“Welcome to our very first episode ofLooking For Love,” came the announcer from the TV. Why that announcer looked exactly like Easton’s sixth grade teacher, he wasn’t sure. But he went along with it. May as well hurry and get that water; he was parched.
“We have an announcement for you folks at home,” the host continued. “Due to a family emergency, one of our bachelorettes was unable to participate, leaving our twenty-five bachelors with just four candidates. But never fear—our producer handed the honor to one of our very own staff here at the station, and what a beauty she is. Let’s have her come out now, folks. Give a warm welcome to the beautiful Miss Ivy Ingles!”
The curtain parted.
Ivy appeared in the spotlight, a glittering dress casing her curvy figure. Appreciative cat calls rang out from the crowd.
“Pick me, Ivy!” hollered a man in a suit and tie. Wait, that wasn’t just any man. That was David Beckham. And he wasn’t wearing a suit and tie anymore. In fact, he wasn’t wearing much clothing at all. Tattoos cased his arms and part of his bare chest as he strode onto the stage, took Ivy in his arms, and dipped her back for a kiss before the crowd.
Easton’s eyes shot open in a bout of horror. The gasp that pulled from his throat echoed within the small tent. So did the rapid breaths that followed. He shoved a palm against his thumping heart, willing it to slow. Willing the nagging ache to subside. Talk about a nightmare.
He dropped his face in his hands and sighed. If Easton was going to be tormented by his dreams, at least he could’ve dreamt about his and Ivy’s time in the yurt. Sure, he’d wake up miserable and aching and missing her even more, if that was possible, but at least he’d get to relive some of their moments—the sound of her cute little laugh, the feel of her warm and silky form in his arms, the tempting taste of her incredible kiss. The last thing he needed was to think about Ivy kissing another man, for crying out loud.
He raked his hands through his hair, certain this was a certified form of torture—being ripped away from the woman he was falling in love with, only to have her betray him within days of their goodbye.
It was a real-life nightmare. Heartache was part of the whole dating game—there was no getting around it—but Easton couldn’t help but think his heart hurt worse than the norm, if there was such a thing. He’d finally opened himself to someone, to the idea of having a life together even, as premature as it might have been. Not on purpose, either. It was just that Ivy had a way of making him see the possibilities in a whole new light. Outcomes thatdidn’tresult in ruin. And now, without Ivy, he feared he’d lost that perspective for good.
Similar thoughts clung to his mind as Easton packed up and retrieved his supplies. He’d spent five and a half days in Nevada’s Valley of Fire National Park. And while he might end up staying the entire month, he wanted to check in with Chantelle.
A list of things had prodded at him over the last few days. Normally, it didn’t bother him to be without service. But this time, after he’d taken off without notice, left his sister in the dark about his whereabouts—not to mention stranded with an expectant camera crew at the diner—Easton’s conscience was getting the better of him.
She deserved it,he assured himself. And that might be true. In Easton’s mind, both Chantelle and Ivy deserved what came of their attempts to force him onto a dating reality TV show—one meant to end in a proposal for those who found love within the short timeframe, no less. Of course, that idea didn’t sound as ludicrous to him now as it had before. Just three days in a yurt with Ivy was enough to have Easton changing everything he thought he believed about love.
With his tent and supplies stuffed into his backpack, Easton headed toward the main trail. The sun was bright, the air was warm, but the frigid ache in his heart remained as he trekked the mile-long walk to his Jeep. His phone waited for him there, a fact that only now had Easton wondering what he might have missed. A lame explanation from Ivy? A concerned message from Chantelle?
The thought caused a spark of fear to kindle within him. What if something had happened with the baby? He'd never forgive himself for not being there if it had. Similar thoughts caused Easton to move faster towards his Jeep.
If Ivy had left messages for him, what exactly would they say? Would she explain that missing out on the promotion was too great a sacrifice? Or would she skip the repentant act altogether and tell him all was fair in love and war? Thoughts like those made Easton want to stop in his tracks, head back to his camping spot, and set up his tent again without bothering to check in at all.
But he wouldn't do that.
He had some music to face before he could hibernate once more. He’d get chewed out from Chantelle for not touching base sooner. He was probably already getting threats of legal action by the station for backing out of his contract. He might even catch slack from a few angry parents over the last-minute staff replacement at the center. Not that Max wasn’t a suitable replacement. Heck, the guy had been one of the first teens to go through the course five years ago. And now he was stepping up and changing lives in return.
Changing lives. The statement forced his mind right back to Ivy. She’d changed his entire outlook if nothing else. And then she betrayed him.
Once in the Jeep, the door wide open to let the fresh air in, Easton turned on his phone and watched the messages filter in. Three from Chantelle; he’d expected those. Two texts from Ivy popped up next. He’d been expecting those too, but the sight made his heart hiccup all the same. A burning sensation followed, as if the organ had been soaked in acid.
A few texts from an unknown number appeared beneath hers. He moved his thumb back up to hover over Ivy’s name, but he couldn’t get himself to open the thread just yet; whether she’d sent him a genuine apology or a list of lies, he wasn’t sure he could stomach the added torment it might bring. He clicked on Chantelle’s instead.
Chantelle:Please call me.
Chantelle:This isn’t what it looks like. You need to call me right now.
