“I’m safe,” Ivy announces, then adds. “It was a snake. It slithered off somewhere.”
The man nods and falls to ease with his hands clasped behind his back.
“I am safe, Rogue.” She spins in my arms and clasps my face, forcing me to see her. “I’m always safe with you by my side. You’ll never let anything or anyone hurt me. As long as you don’t let go, I have nothing to fear. If that snake had bitten me, you would have gotten me treatment. But I saw it when you did. I wasn’t going to step on it.”
Trauma is a bitch. It rears up at the slightest provocation. And I’m struggling to put it behind me. Even with therapy, I have too much fear when it comes to losing her. “I love you more than I’ll ever be able to put into words. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She leans into me and presses her lips on mine. “You’re never going to have to find out. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
21
Summer
Rebel didn’t join me. I don’t need to open my eyes to be aware that I’m alone when I wake, but I open them anyway. The stretch of covers on his side of the bed are completely flat and undisturbed. He didn’t come in.
He couldn’t even bare to hold me.
I can feel wetness gathering behind my eyelids. A tear slips down my cheek. Okay. That might be going too far. I’m emotional. Hormonal. He’s touched me today. Hugged me. Kissed me.
Always in front of people. Not when we’re alone. And then he suggested we napped together, but he’s not here.
Why didn’t he join me? Why is he avoiding anything too intimate with me? Why does it feel like every display of affection makes him uncomfortable.
Sitting up, I run my fingers through my curls, fluffing them back into place before reaching for my dress and tugging it on.I wipe the wetness from my face. They’re not real tears. Just a moment of weakness. A sniffle as I climb off the bed, and I have myself under control.
I wander out into the kitchen in bare feet. I left my shoes by the front door. Old habits from a different life.
“Hey, Summer.” Her arms full of blue orchards, the florist steps into the house. The stems spray from the top of a tall, cylindrical vase.
“More flowers for the bride and groom?” I perk up at the interruption. That’s enough of feeling sorry for myself.
“Yes.” She glances around for a spot to put them. “Shall I leave these in here? Or is there somewhere else you want them?”
“Here is fine. Thank you, Violet.” The pretty, velvet petals are Ivy’s favorite shade of blue next to Rogue’s eyes.
She places them on the kitchen counter near a basket of strawberries fresh from the garden that one of the boys must have picked while I was napping.
“Your brothers couldn’t stop talking about your return home.”
“Is that so?”
She works a little too hard positioning the vase. “They said you don’t come to Devil’s Bend often. And they miss you.”
“I miss them too.” But it’s easier to stay in L.A. It’s interesting that they’re opening up to the florist, though. “They tell you a lot of things?”
“No.” She takes a step back from the flowers and fidgets with her hair. A wince as she accidentally brushes her cheek tells me that bruise she’s tried to conceal hurts. “Working a secret celebrity wedding is a lot different than I thought it would be.”
“Let’s hope it stays under wraps. The last thing we need is the media catching wind of it.” Or Alec showing up, but she doesn’t need to know about Ivy’s deranged stepbrother.
“My lips are sealed.” She mimics zipping her lip and tossing the key.
I take a deep breath. I believe her. The problem is I’m concerned about what else she’s keeping her mouth shut about. I don’t want to push her, but I have to ask, “Violet, are you okay?”
“Yes. Run off my feet.” She hurries toward the door. “I’m going to take the rest of the flowers up to the barn.”
“Okay.” That went about as well as expected. When I met her, she said she’s only been in Devil’s Bend for a little over a year. And I’ve been in L.A. that entire time. We’re strangers despite whatever my brothers have told her. There’s no reason she would want me involved in whatever’s going on in her life.
I pull the wicker container full of fresh picked strawberries across the island so I can rinse them before I put glasses on a tray and divide some of the fruit between them. There’s an envelope attached to the bottom of the basket.
