Page 78 of Strange Love

“I’m here,” she says with a smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “And if you’ll have me, I don’t want to leave.”

“If I’ll have you?” I repeat, feeling a surge of emotion. “Ivy, you captured my heart the day you nervously nibbled on a Pop Tart in front of school, trying to be invisible. But to me, you were never invisible. You shined like the brightest star in the sky.”

As I speak, the memories flood back— the first time we met, our first date at the park, the prom, and the countless moments that led us to this point. “But I need to ask you something,” I continue.

“What’s that?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my waist and looking into my eyes.

“How do you feel about strange money, cold weather, and Tim Hortons?”

A slow smile spreads across her face.

“I’m ready for everything,” she responds confidently.

“Looks like it’s you and me against the world now,” I say with determination.

“You and me against the world,” she echoes with a grin on her face, her perfect face, the familiarity of it, every angle indelibly etched in my memory and replayed on an endless loop all these years, here with me now, my Ivy Girl.

Epilogue - “You Make My Dreams (Come True)”

Ivy - Age 24, 1995

As the airplane door swung open onto the ramp, a fierce gust of icy air assaulted me, stealing my breath and making me shiver despite my bundled layers. The cold in Canada is no joke, as Corey had warned me. Today's temperature is a staggering -23 degrees Celsius, equivalent to -10 degrees Fahrenheit, and I’ve been obsessing over it since Corey left.

It’s been almost a month since I last saw him, the longest we’ve gone without seeing each other since I showed up in Boston. He had to come up here early to start training with the team while I took care of some things back home. Mainly getting my book published.

It’s surreal to think that people are interested in my story now. I kept those memories locked away for years, afraid they would consume me. Now that I’ve shared it, I feel truly free. Corey always said that would happen, and that handsome son of a bitch was right.

Every detail of my chaotic and emotional journey spilled out onto the pages as I relived them. From the day I was taken and listened helplessly as my sister screamed in agony to the moment I finally found my way to freedom. As I wrote, those years became as vivid as the crisp Canadian air surrounding me.

With trembling fingers, I wrote about Auron, a man so skilled at manipulation that he convinced hundreds of people to stake their lives on the promise of a better future through a fantastical tale of aliens and voices from the sky. I held nothing back as I revealed his true nature, a ruthless drug lord, kidnapper, human trafficker, and likely murderer.

He may not have directly taken a life with his own hands (though I highly doubted it), he was the puppet master behind the loss and devastation of countless individuals.

Justice caught up to him in the end. Last August that wretched man died in prison, a fitting punishment for the years of torment he had inflicted upon innocent souls. Before he met his fate, I made a trip to see him. It was something I needed to do.

I sat across from him, separated by a thick pane of glass, as his face registered shock. He knew that my actions had landed him behind these cold, unforgiving walls, and in that moment, I wanted him to see me—strong, triumphant, and thriving despite his attempts to break me. The pride in my eyes must have been a glaring reminder of his ultimate defeat.

His slender fingers eagerly wrapped around the phone, ready to spin his web of deceit once again. I stubbornly refused to pick up on my end, not wanting to hear his smooth voice or be subjected to his endless lies. Instead, I focused on the small doll in my hands, a reminder of the terrified twelve-year-old girl he had preyed upon and the only thing he had allowed her to keep. Her hope.

Corey wasn’t too happy when I told him he could make the trip with me, but I would go in to see Auron alone. He would’ve loved nothing better than to have five minutes alone with Auron, but in the end, I spent those five minutes with my captor alone, staring into his cold, soulless eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of speaking to me.

Auron died alone in his cell, stripped of all his fortune, fame, and followers. I couldn’t have written it better myself.

The man who aided me remains a mystery to this day. He plays a pivotal role in my story, though he is not easily labeled a hero or villain. Throughout the journey of writing this book, I found myself constantly pondering his character. Such a paradoxical figure, complicit in the dark operations at The Station yet capable of showing empathy and kindness.

He may have only been a mere delivery man, but he was on Auron’s payroll all the same. How many secrets did he know? How many lives did he witness being destroyed, yet chose to remain silent? Amidst the chaos and despair, he showed me a glimmer of hope and humanity with his small gestures. When he could have easily ignored my plight and stayed loyal to Auron, he instead chose to risk it all and help me escape. For that selfless act, I will forever be grateful.

Even now, when I hear the upbeat melody of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,” memories of him flood my mind. I hold no resentment towards him or anyone else involved in my ordeal. The past is behind me, and I have finally let go of my anger and bitterness.

The book chronicles not only my years with the cult but also the aftermath of my return when I chose to isolate myself. I believed that by hiding from everything, I could erase the pain and trauma of those years. It wasn’t until my family, friends, and most importantly Corey showed me the power of facing and embracing our struggles that I began to find strength in my experiences.

Auron is a part of this story, but he holds no credit for the person I have become. That honor belongs to me— a strong woman, daughter, friend, and now fianceé. Yes, you read that right, fianceé.

In the midst of our time in Boston, Corey got down on one knee and presented me with a stunning opal ring surrounded by delicate diamonds. My left hand now bears the symbol of our unbreakable bond.

Considering Corey’s busy hockey schedule and our move to a new city, we're taking our time with wedding planning. It’s fine with me since I’m eagerly looking forward to continuing my writing journey, perhaps exploring lighter themes in the fiction genre this time.

As a new resident here, I’m thrilled to join Corey in his efforts to support a charity close to his heart, providing equal opportunities for children interested in ice skating and hockey regardless of their financial backgrounds. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even find time to offer skating lessons once again.