Where the Ivy Hides (14 page)

He shoves away from the bathroom wall before turning and storming away, leaving me literally in tatters, alone in the bathroom at Where the Ivy Hides.

Chapter 17

I promise, ever since I was a little girl, I’ve known this was a shitty life. I haven’t lived this life with grand illusions of fairy tales, and I haven’t strived a single day for my happily ever after.

It’s hard to believe in these things when your first memory is your mother being taken.

I knew I would never find my one and only, I’ve known it all my life. But I didn’t expect the one and only man I’d ever love, to hurt so fucking much.

Why does it hurt so much more when he
comes back
than it does when he leaves?

Over the next couple of days, I can’t even look Bowen in the eyes much less speak to him. And although it seems like he knows something is off, he thankfully leaves it alone.

I don’t think Bowen ever let himself believe we were anything more than what we are, it’s one of the reasons we worked for as long as we did.

He’s easy.

He was easy to be with and even easier to let go.

“Has Ryker tried to contact you?” I’m caught off guard by Rome’s question in the middle of our family Sunday brunch and cut my eyes at him as soon as it’s out.

I quickly jerk my eyes towards Mom’s empty seat and Dad’s still occupied one directly across the table from Rome. “Nope. Haven’t talked to him since our meeting.” I attempt to redirect the conversation when I see Mom heading back to the table from the ladies’ room. “Reese said I should take over Seattle’s Lucky after graduation. I can split my time between SMI and Lucky’s. I think it’s a good plan,” I explain to Dad.

Rome isn’t finished yet though. He’s fearless in the face of death today it seems. “Surely the meeting was cordial enough to professionally exchange contact information, though.” He glances at Dad before settling his eyes back on mine, smiling. “Surely?”

I’m tired, I’ve had less than ten hours of sleep in the last week, and I’ve put in six times that at work alone. I’m exhausted. I’m also a bit rusty on my social graces due to the recent lack of social interaction, so that probably doesn’t help curb the outrageous outburst, either. Oh, and have I mentioned, I’m also extremely irritable and short tempered?

I am. Attempted sobriety will do that to you.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, stop beating around the fucking bush and spit it out, Rome!”

You can hear a pin drop after my hands slam against the top of the table, rattling the place settings where they lie. “Just say it!” I bark.

My father eases back in his soft leather seat before settling his left ankle on his right knee, chuckling while my mother is frozen in place with her salad fork halfway to her mouth, possibly counting under her breath…although she could be talking to herself.

And Rome…he’s the carbon-copy of our father, only younger, leaner, a bit more handsome and charismatic, and a fuck ton more aggravating.

“Well, little sister,” he tsks me. “I only ask because I ran into him at the bank yesterday, and he asked if I would give you his number. The poor schmuck, I thought for sure, given the history between you two that he’d be immune to you. Well –“ He slaps a piece of paper on the table before knocking on it twice. “Damn glad you’re my sister. I’ll tell you that. Oh and he said to clean up and give him a call when you’re ready to act like a grown-up.” He smiles for a few beats before standing.

After leaning over and kissing our mother’s cheek, he shakes our father’s hand, “I have tee time in twenty at Sand Point. Dad, you want to meet me on the nine or ten?”

My father goes to stand, “Sure, son. Sounds—“

Oh hell no, little brother.

I jolt to my feet. “Mom.” I follow Rome’s suit out of default, kissing my mother on the cheek before holding my hand out to my father. I had to flip it to auto-pilot back there at, ‘
When you’re ready to act like a grown-up.’
And to be honest, I can’t fucking promise I’m going to be able to come back from that.

Who the fuck does Ryker think he is? He’s not allowed in my new life. He’s not easy. He’s not allowed. ‘Act like a grown-up?’ I’ll do one better. Fuck Lucky’s. Fuck Reese. But double fuck Ryker. I don’t
have
to do this. I don’t. And if he doesn’t get a damn clue, then I fucking won’t.

After our awkward parting, my heels stab the concrete with every step I take as I charge towards Rome’s jeep. As soon as my palm cracks across its silver ass, the brake lights light up, and the window comes down.

“Jesus, Ivy. What the fuck?” He barks as I round the driver’s side of the SUV, running my hand up the side of the sleek metal.

“Exactly, Rome, What. The. Fuck? What the fuck was that?” I gesture towards the country club restaurant
. “Oh and he said to clean up and give him a call when you’re ready to act like a grown-up?”
I repeat his words to him.

He sighs and jerks his head towards the passenger side of his car, “Get in, little sis. This has been a long time coming. I’ve been waiting for this conversation since the day you and I met. Maybe even before. Let’s take a drive.”

Rome doesn’t hold back. And he doesn’t beat around the bush. Before we can even pull onto the street, he takes the first stab and bleeds out.

“I think I was three when I realized everyone else’s little sister wasn’t a mythical creature whose name you only whispered. I always loved you. Did Delilah tell you that? I asked her to once. Of course we were both so stoned out of our minds, I doubt she remembered. I think I only remembered because I couldn’t believe I finally had the balls to ask her to tell you. Honestly, I think I left it in limbo on purpose. I wanted to think Del was too high to remember, but I hoped she wasn’t, at the same time I wanted to believe she’d told you. I dunno, I’m probably weird. I do only fuck virgins, once. So that isn’t ruled out, obviously.” He chuckles.

The awkward silence that follows his admittance is heart breaking. No fuck that, it’s heart shattering.

It takes me forever to reply, but I do. I accept my brother’s love and I love him so much for his candidness.

I need it.

Right now, I need it more than a hit, and a hell of a lot more than I need a few little cuts.

I don’t hold back. And I don’t beat around the bush. I take the stab and bleed out.

“The guy that took Mom, Sebastian, was a very depraved bastard. When Beth and I stayed with him, he’d invent reasons I needed to go into this thing he called, ‘
the box.’
It was so fucking scary at first. I hated it. I think it was like a double outhouse or something. Except it just had one toilet and a sink.   I remember looking through the little moon-shape cut out in the locked wood door at night. I’d count as high as I could, then I’d start over and count again until I was sure I’d counted all the stars I could see. I knew it was safe to go to sleep after the moon peeked its way through the little cut out. He never came to the box to hurt me that late. So, I’d say my prayers like my Nana D taught me. I’d pray that if our daddy couldn’t get our momma better, that God would send her and me, a little brother who could do the job.”

I light a cigarette and pull in a deep lung full of smoke before exhaling and looking back at my little brother. “I also prayed that when you finished making our mom better, you’d come and find me. I prayed you’d find me and put me back with our family and make it all better. And you did, Rome. You did.”

“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have, little sis.” He plucks the cigarette from my hand and takes a drag. “This is progress, good. Now, I’ll go. Thank you. Thank you for finally coming home, Ivy. We’re a motley crue, and each of us on our own is nowhere near functioning, but since you came back, I’ve,” he coughs and clears his throat, “I’ve never seen Mom and Dad so happy. I remember wondering as a child if our parents would get the chance to know peace or feel contentment again, I remember wondering if we’d always have a missing piece.” He pulls into the driveway, turns off the ignition, and links our fingers, “We’re complete now that you’re home.” He smiles. “Now, I need
you
to find
your
missing piece. Find what makes
you
know peace and contentment. Because you’re threatening mine more and more the longer you hang in the balance, trying to do this shit on your own. This life isn’t a solo act, Ivy. Stop being so selfish and trying to make it one. No one has to do it alone and that includes you.”

His words crawl deeper under my skin in the silence that follows after his departure from the vehicle.

I feel like too much was said but not enough, and I don’t have the slightest idea where to pick it back up.

So, I follow suit and let sleeping dogs do what they do, lie.

After I shower and dress in my pj’s, I make my usual, end of the day social circle to say goodnight to Rome. But as I step from the kitchen into the main area with my glass of water, I’m welcomed with a dark, silent room. Rome is sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a cold beer in his hand as he watches the news.

We don’t speak another word tonight. I just go to bed where I toss and turn until conceding to another sleepless night.

It takes me a solid week to build up the courage to call Ryker, and even then, I do so because it’s a business necessity. We’re in the process of tying up the last of the paperwork, and the bank needs some I’s dotted and some T’s crossed on his side when I decide it’s time I start acting like a big girl.

The phone rings three times before I chicken out and hang up, cussing myself because I didn’t at least wait for voicemail to pick up.

I do this three-ring, cross-my-fingers-and-hope-for-a-third-ring-voicemail-pick-up call three more times while I finish up answering the handful of emails at work. It’s Saturday, and I’ve already endured family brunch, so after I finish at work, it’s only late afternoon. I decide to swing by campus to view the final grades that were posted outside the art studio yesterday evening.

I never would have tried Art as my major in Florida. I took general, because that what I was, general. Average. People who majored in Art were people like Delilah, people who made it their mission in life to
NOT
wake up every morning just to pay the bills. People who know who they are and what they want out of life, those were Art major people.

Not people like me.

So when I see that I passed with a B average and that I got
my
major in Arts, something swells inside me…and damn it feels good.

I practically skip my way to the car. As
The Fray
starts singing How to Save a Life, I sing to the top of my lungs, every damn lyric.

Dancing my way up the drive towards mine and Rome’s front door, I don’t have a care in the world.

On top of that, I haven’t used since the business meeting at Where the Ivy Hides a few weeks ago. Not that I didn’t come close, not that I didn’t have to have my sponsor on the phone every other night to walk me through flushing whatever I’d hoarded and accumulated during the day while promising myself if I made it through one more day I could slip a bit.

But I didn’t slip. Not once.

And I fucking passed!

“Ya look good, Ivy, love.” Ryker says behind me as I turn the key in the door, scaring the living shit out of me.

“HOLY FUCK!” I scream, jumping two feet in the air. “Jesus, Ryker. You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!” I breathe, leaning over. Once I’ve gathered some of my composure, I stand, and look up, up, up at him.

Jesus he’s tall.

I don’t remember him being so tall.

“Ryker,” I smile, falling apart and dying a million deaths inside, “How are you this evening. Good, I hope.”

“Ay. Some good. Some bad.” He shrugs.

A minute or an eternity but nowhere in between, must pass before either of us speaks and breaks the calm silence.

When I remember the copious amounts of coke in my purse, I start to fidget then speak to distract from it, “Well, you’re more than welcome to come in. I can make some tea, or—“

He steps towards me until the toe of his boots meet my slippers, then he gently cups my face and runs his lips across my face to settle in a kiss on my forehead. He whispers, “I’ve done ya wrong, haven’t I, me Ivy?”

I couldn’t answer if he let me.