Ivy and I looked at each other. Her mouth curled up. “Do we start at the very messy beginning? Or the equally messy mid-point?”
“Oh boy. I can already tell this is going to be good.” Reina chuckled, shooting Fox an amused look.
We decided to start right from that dressing room on tour. Ivy took the lead on telling the story, but she skipped over a lot of the details that would paint me in a negative light. I noticed she avoided making any reference to Oliver, which was probably for the best. Fox was likely to offer his opinion on my old bandmate if his name came up, even though I’d told him right from the beginning not to say a word about what was going on with us to anyone.
“Would you like something else to drink?” the waitress asked after dropping off our food.
“Another Thai iced tea, please,” I ordered.
Reina caught my gaze. “Fox told me you’re two years sober. I’m going on five years now.”
“Good for you.” I gave her a sympathetic smile. “I hear it gets easier with every year.”
She nodded. “I think so. And having the right support network goes a long way, too. It got a hell of a lot easier when I cut off people who weren’t interested in supporting my recovery.”
“Damn right,” Fox said gruffly. “You know a thing or two about that, right, J? That fucker should rot in hell for what he did to you. Fuckin’ psychopath. Can’t wait to see you serve him what he deserves on Monday.”
My back snapped straight. “I don’t—”
“Who are you talking about?” Reina asked Fox, unaware of the panic filling my body. I turned to Ivy, watching for her reaction, but from the side, it was impossible to read her face. She sat very still, the chopsticks in her hand hovering over her plate.
“His old bandmate, Oliver,” Fox answered while chewing on his food. “He messed J up. From the drugs—”
What the hell was he doing? “Fox,” I barked out. “It’s not a great topic for dinner conversation.”
Ivy twisted her head slowly in my direction, a shallow wrinkle between her brows, and I could see Fox’s words had rattled her.Fuck.
“Shit, my bad, Jamie.” Fox sniffed. An awkward silence descended until Reina cleared her throat and asked Ivy about her major at UCLA.
While they talked, I got up to go to the bathroom, and Fox followed me.
“Sorry about that,” he said when we were around the corner. “I thought you would have told her everything by now. You two seem so comfortable with each other.”
“We’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks,” I said. “And there’s some history between them that’s still a sore point.”
Fox frowned. “For real? She knows him?”
I ran a hand over my chin. “Yeah. She’s the sister of a guy in Bleeding Moonlight, a band who toured with us on that last tour. Ivy joined for two weeks, and she and Oliver had a thing. I don’t think they’ve seen each other since, but there’s still something there. I don’t know exactly what, because we’ve agreed not to talk about him. Before we started seeing each other, he was our biggest point of contention. She didn’t believe me when I told her what a manipulative bastard he is.”
“You know, telling her the full story will probably make it easier for her to let go,” Fox said, leaning against the wall. “She seems like a sweet girl. No way she’d care about that asshole if she knew what he did to you. From the shitty contract to the bullshit with the drugs. Why not have the conversation?”
He had a point. She was with me, not him. For the past few weeks, she’d been waking up in my bed, not his. I had all the leverage, but I was still afraid.
We finished dinner, said our goodbyes to Fox and Reina, and got into my car to drive back. The whole ride, Ivy chewed on her nails, staring out of the window. I could tell her thoughts were someplace else. Was she thinking about him?
18
IVY
After Jamie droppedme off at my apartment after dinner, I locked myself inside my room and pulled up Oliver’s last message from a few days ago.
“Are you ignoring me, beautiful? Have I made you upset? I’m sorry if I did. It’s so hard being away from you.”
I didn’t block his number the night after I first slept with Jamie, but I also didn’t reply.
I didn’t belong to him. But I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him that.
There was no rational explanation for why. I’d tried to figure it out, to look inside myself and examine my feelings, but I came up with nothing. I knew I didn’t love him anymore, but I still felt…something when he messaged me.
