I'm frozen in the middle of her room. No, not her room anymore. Just a guest room again.
The indent from her suitcase is still on the bed. By tomorrow, Patricia will smooth it away like Ivy was never here.
The sound of wheels on hardwood follows her down the hall. Down the stairs.
Away from me.
And I still can't move.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Thorne
Ivy left Madison's door cracked open, and I push it the rest of the way. "You're both leaving me." I don't like that my hurt seeps out. Show weakness, and people will use it against you.
"I'm not leaving you. I hope you'll still let me visit you and Marley." She points to the cat curled at the end of her bed.
"Don't be ridiculous. You are welcome here anytime."
"Good." Her gaze drops to the jean shorts in her hands. She folds the shorts with unnecessary precision before setting themin her suitcase. "Just so you know Ivy's leaving because of what you did. I'm going because I won't abandon her."
"You could stay and visit her..."
"Funny how things change. Less than two months ago you would've paid good money to ship me to New York. Now you're sad I'm leaving." A small smile tugs at her lips. “Who’d have seen that plot twist.”
“Sad is a strong word,” I tease. “It’s more that I don’t want to take over feeding the cats. And you play with them. They better not expect that shit from me.”
"Don't worry, Big Bad Blackstone. I know the truth but won't tell anyone you have feelings."
My lip twitches. “I’d deny it."
She turns back to her suitcase, carefully rolling a T-shirt like someone taught her to pack efficiently. But her smile fades when she meets my gaze. "I have to go with her. My sister needs me. I'm not leaving her alone. You have Lilly." She narrows her eyes. "And you have bourbon to keep you company."
Damn, this girl doesn't hold back. "I haven't had a drink since yesterday."
She claps, and it is all sarcasm. "Wow. A whole day. Congratulations."
I snort. "You know, you're kind of a little shit."
"Why do you think I wanted to live with you? We're alike."
The room falls quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric as she continues packing. I should leave. This is getting too close to an actual conversation, the kind that requires honesty neither of us is equipped for.
But I don't move.
Madison picks up a photo frame from the nightstand. It’s a picture of her and her mom at what looks like a carnival. She stares at it for a long moment before wrapping it carefully in a sweater and tucking it into the suitcase.
"I don’t get it," she says, not looking at me. "Everyone keeps saying you're just like Dad. Sebastian said it. People online and in person gossip about it. Even you act like it's inevitable."
"Because it is." I’d thought I could escape it, but my return home made it clear I was wrong.
She walks closer. Marley jumps onto the floor and rubs against me, tail wrapping around my leg. "Our dad kept two separate families. He lied to everyone. He made my mom promises he never kept."
I pick up the cat, needing something to do with my hands. "So?"
"So you let me move into your house."
I scoff. "I didn't have much of a choice."
