Page 34

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “At least now I know that Rex lied about everything. He probably killed her and buried her in the wilderness.”

That was one option, but it wasn’t the only one.

Chapter Eighteen

Ivy

There was no grave.

There was no stone with her name on it, no patch of ground I could visit with a pretty bouquet clutched in my hands. There was no place I could go and stand there, sharing my secrets and hopes with her. Just nothing. A woman who had lived and breathed. Who had loved me and held me and then disappeared. Not even the earth had kept a record of her.

It all seemed so unfair.

It was like I lost her all over again. I’d already expected the worst, and it shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but for some reason the news shook me to my core.

For two days I barely left my room. I didn’t eat a fucking thing. I was just… done. The nothingness of it all consumed me. I felt nothing, just numb. Too hurt and too angry for any emotion to settle anywhere on me, so it settled into nothing at all. And the craziest part of all? Knox. He’d been there the entire time.

He didn’t push me to talk about it. He didn’t attempt to make me feel better about it. He didn’t force me to snap out of it. Instead, he remained a quiet and steady presence around me, and when I hadn’t touched any of the food he’d brought me he’d come back and take it away without a word. Every single time. He’d stand in the doorway sometimes and watch me with something in his eyes that looked a lot like worry, and then he’d leave me alone to figure my shit out.

It was shockingly refreshing and I appreciated more than I knew how to tell him.

On day three, I snapped out of it. Maybe not snapped, because it wasn’t abrupt or fast, but I came to a realization of sorts.

I laid in the dark of my bedroom and thought about my mother, Magnolia Price. I would never know what Rex did to her. The only certainty I would carry with me was that he’d done something, and for that he deserved whatever was coming to him.

That thought bolstered me out of bed and into a long, hot shower where I scrubbed away my pain and my anger before I dressed in jeans and boots, ready for a day outdoors. I didn’t have all my shit figured out—not yet—but I knew what would help. And I knew who I wanted at my side. I still hadn’t made many friends at the clubhouse, but I got on well with Rook’s quiet sister.

I got out my phone and scrolled through my contact list and hit ‘call’. It took a few rings for her to pick up. “Hey Skye, are you busy?”

There was a silence that lasted long enough to turn uncomfortable.

“It’s Ivy,” I said, suddenly less sure.

“I know,” she replied in a bland voice. “What’s up?”

“I’m heading to Redstone River, and I wondered if you wanted to join me. Enjoy some nature and take some photos.” When she said nothing, I started rambling. “I need to clear my head and fresh air helps.”

Still, Skye remained quiet.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to come. Just thought I’d ask.”

A small sound that might’ve been a laugh, sounded, finally. “Sure. Sounds good.”

I got ready and headed over to the clubhouse in the old truck that Knox had lent me. She was waiting out front for me, dressed like she was trying not to be seen in an oversized hoodie, hair tucked up inside it, dark sunglasses, and baggy jeans. I didn’t ask even though I really wanted to. “Who’s that?” I asked at the three-legged dog leaning against her legs.

“This is Tripod, he’s kind of the club mascot and protector.”

The mutt was adorable and I pushed the door open with a smile as they both joined me. We headed to the river with a prospect following behind on his bike. That had been one of Knox’s stipulations, he didn’t trust my father so wanted us to have an escort. I didn’t like the idea of not having privacy, but I understood where he was coming from. I didn’t trust Rex either, especially now I’d learned about my mom.

We arrived at Redstone River just after noon.

The water was low and clear enough to see the rocks on the bottom. I snapped shots of the fish moving smoothly through the water. The sound of the trees rustling all around soothed me as I busied myself behind the camera. The rushing water kept my heartbeat steady while the scent of all the greenery and damp earth grounded my body in the woods surrounding the river, while my mind wandered. Tripod ran back and forth between me and Skye, like he couldn’t figure out where he was needed most.

It was comforting in a way.

That was the thing about nature, it didn’t give a shit about your grief. Sadness and death were all part of life, and my broken heart didn’t change the low of the river or the path of the birds above me. So I aimed at whatever captured my attention. I shot the river. The fish. A heron standing absolutely still in the shallows. Tripod investigating something under a root. Skye sitting on a flat rock, sunglasses covering her eyes with her face tipped up toward the sky.

I captured it all.