Ivy is gone.
Ivy is gone.
I repeat the words over and over as I fall back, sitting in the doorway, running my hands through my hair, staring down at the note in my hand.
She found out about the bet.
Tonight, I told her I loved her.
She left.
The joke’s on me.
Twenty-Five
Brix
“Hi, my name is Brix. I’m here for Tamara Ward.”
“Yes, Ms. Tamara has been looking forward to seeing you. If you want to have a seat, she will be out in just a few minutes.”
I eye the row of chairs lining the wall. They are hard and dingy, but hopefully, I won’t be waiting for too long.
It feels like I’ve waited for this day for much longer than sixty days. When my mom was admitted into rehab, I wasn’t sure what the other end of her time here would look like.
Over the course of the past two months, I’ve been here a few times to meet with her and her counselor. One of the steps to her going back home is to understand who she’ll be around and what her new life will look like.
We decided it is best she move in with my Uncle Travis. While he does have my niece staying with him, he shares custody with his ex, and she would be able to help her.
Things have moved fast for me and the guys. We recently met with Lights Off Records and they’ve offered us a record deal. It’s a huge break for us, and if all goes well, we’ll have our own album coming out next year.
The last few months have been hell, though. Since Ivy left, I haven’t felt like myself. Well, at least the man I was when we were together. She won’t talk to me, not that I can blame her. I’ve been the one who has written most of our music up until this point, and ever since she left, I can’t bring myself to write a word. The guys and our label have been pressuring me to get something done.
I’ve been able to hold them off so far, telling them things with my mom have taken up most of my thoughts.
Which isn’t a lie.
The full truth is I can’t even connect with anything I write. My mind and my heart aren’t in it. I’m on the brink of getting everything we’ve worked so hard for, and all I can think about is Ivy.
“Brix.” I hear my mom’s voice filter through the room.
Tears sting my eyes at the sound of her voice. Every time I hear her talk, her words clear, brings me back to when I was younger. I don’t even remember the last time I heard my mom speak to me sober.
The thought reaches into my chest, wrapping itself around my heart with a vise grip.
“Mom,” I murmur, standing as she wraps her arms around me.
She even smells like her, like she did before. Like lavender, only now it’s mixed in with the sterile scent of this place.
“It’s so good to see you, honey.”
“You, too, Mom.”
She pulls back, tears filling her eyes. She reaches her hand out, pressing her palm against my cheek as she flashes me her warm smile.
“Don’t cry.” I pull her in, giving her another hug. “You’re too pretty to cry, Ma. It’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay,” she sighs, her arms wrapped tightly around me.
