Old habits die hard. I had the Lyft driver let me out exactly one-quarter mile from Aunt Grace’s house. I made it the rest of the way on foot. Just me, a bag of clothes, and Mr. Whiskers. It’s time he went home to his mom. A knot forms in my stomach as I wonder if I’ll be joining him.
The second I step around a thick collection of evergreens, it’s Ivy. Alone on a patio, sadder than I’ve ever seen. She’s lost weight, and her eyes look as though she’s been crying. I ache for this woman, but maybe I deserve to ache. To hurt. To feel real pain. Ivy is hurting, and I caused that.
Fuck, what if she’s better off without me?
An engine in the distance rumbles louder as it approaches. A truck closes in, and I do what any respectable stalker does. I duck into the nearest shrubs.
The truck parks and a man steps out. “Hey,” he says as he steps toward her and hands her a plate. Even with his back facing me, his frame, height, and obnoxiously perfect hair are all too familiar. Fucking Hunter.
The second she shivers, he’s got his jacket around her. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding out,” he says. I glare.
“I’m not hiding out.”
“Uh-huh.” I can only imagine the boyish grin on that bastard’s face. “Mind if I have a seat?”
When she invites him with, “I’d like that,” I see red. I’m a footstep and a half closer to them when I stop. The man turns around to sit, and it is not Hunter. It’s Wade Everly, the sheriff. “You need to quit skipping dinner,” he scolds her.
“I will,” she promises as he holds up something fried and offers her a bite. From here, I can’t tell if the fried food is chicken or okra, or perhaps gizzards, but at least she’s eating.
“Gracie says you’re going back to work at Sparrow Assisted Living.”
Ivy shakes her head. “Maybe down the road, but not now. Derrick’s having a tough time getting over me. I think he proposed.”
“Proposed?” the sheriff and I ask in unison.
Derrick has one job to do, and it isn’t fucking this. That’s it. I’m deep-frying Derrick’s balls and feeding them to him.
“But my friend, Angie, lined me up with an interview day after tomorrow. But I think I’m in way over my head with that one.”
“What is it?”
“A project pitch for a non-profit—the Delphi Group. They’re looking for studies to invest in. She said she called in a favor and mentioned the work I’ve done with people who are nonverbal. They agreed to meet with me.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Ivy growls adorably. “It sounds like a disaster. I have to present an idea for them to sponsor, which I don’t have. I also don’t have a degree, business experience, or the first clue about how to be my own boss.”
He kisses her temple. “Have faith. If your friend believes in you this much, you must be doing something right. Plus, it keeps you from thinking of him.”
“Who?” she asks as if pretending not to know.
“Who indeed…” He takes a breath. “The man who’s caused all the commotion in your heart. Gracie says you’re barely eating or sleeping.”
Ivy stays silent. She and I are two souls floating through the same netherworld. Trapped somewhere between mild despondence to suffocating misery.
“Do you love him?” the sheriff asks from out of fucking nowhere. I crouch down and struggle to listen.
She shrugs, and my heart falls out of my chest. “It doesn’t matter,” she replies.
I spy in disbelief. What does she mean it doesn’t matter? Why?
“Why?” Wade Everly asks.
“Because he has to stay in Chicago, and I have to stay here.” I’m half a second from jumping out of the shrubs like a surprise stripper from a birthday cake when Ivy continues. “It’s for the best,” she adds.
I stop mid-step.
“I need someone I can give my whole heart to, and for that someone to give me all of his in return.”
The sheriff waves a chicken leg at her. “And that’s not Mr. Heartbreak?”
Can I just say that I hate the nickname?
Ivy sighs. “I don’t know. When I needed a dress, he made a deal for Ricardo Ricci to make it.”
“The famous fashion designer?” he asks, surprised.
Ivy nods. “And when he found out I was spending my paycheck on Aunt Grace’s meds, he paid for them out of his own pocket.”
“Remind me later to set you straight on who should be paying for my sister’s meds.” He bops her on the nose with a drumstick and takes a bite.
She rubs her nose, smiling. “He does so many beautiful things for me,” Ivy laments.
“Sounds like a real bastard.” They chuckle.
“Ivy,” he says, “I know you. A little distance wouldn’t keep you from going after what you really want. Gracie wouldn’t tell me too much about your relationship, so answer me this. Did he let you down?”
She nods sadly. “Yes,” she sighs, and it’s a kick in the gut.
“Do you forgive him?”
Does she? I step closer, waiting on bated breath for her response.
Eyes full of tears, she answers softly. “Yes.” I sigh relieved. Thank fuck.
The sheriff reads my thoughts. “Then what’s holding you back?”
She looks up and searches the sky for answers. “I don’t know. A million things. I trust him…foolishly, idiotically trust him, but I don’t think he’ll ever trust me.”
“Maybe he just needs to get to know you better.”
Ivy’s laugh is weak. “The man knows more about me than God almighty. The only thing he hasn’t managed to figure out is why I smell of oranges and vanilla.” She’s got me there. My chuckle is echoed by the sheriff.
I’ve heard all I need to hear. I do trust her. She has to know that. I take a few determined steps, ready to tell her, but stop as soon as I hear her name.
“Lori, his wife, passed a few years ago. I would never want to change his feelings for her. But I guess I hoped there was enough love in his heart for us both. I’m not sure there is. He’s too walled off. I’m not sure I can ever really reach him.” Her focus fixes on the night sky. “What good is reaching for a star you’ll never touch?”
The sheriff looks around, then nudges her back into the house. “It’s getting cold. Let’s go inside.” They do, and I follow their movements, window by window, as they make their way through the spacious house. Ivy swaddles herself in a blanket and lies back on the sofa. I’m not sure where the sheriff’s gone. Maybe to the kitchen.
I watched her a million times before, but this time is different. This time, I know the truth. I own her. The problem is, she doesn’t know that she owns me.
A lone tear finds its way down her cheek, and I know that words are meaningless. I can’t fix this by talking to her. I know Ivy. She’ll be thinking about everyone else, and for once, I need her to know there’s someone thinking of her. Only her.
But I can’t just tell her. I have to show her. Prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m the man who will stand by her side. I’ll never reject her or abandon her. That nothing and no one will ever come between us.
“Freeze,” the sheriff demands, his voice low as a gun cocks at the back of my head.
I drop my bag and raise my hands.
Fuck.