Page 96 of Yours Truly

TWENTY-NINE

“He’s dead to me.”

Ivy

There’s a heartbeat in my palm, throbbing, sending a reminder to my brain that I’m hurt. But I don’t need the reminder. Because everything hurts, and my hand is the least of it.

I thought betrayal was one-size-fits-all. But having the man you’ve fallen in love with cheat on you at a party he himself has thrown? At your new place of work? With all of your family and friends around?

I turn over in my bed, and face the window, staring out in the gloomy night sky. Hudson and Dolly’s house lights are on, and I know it’s because of what happened tonight. I heard Dolly’s voice in the hall, the rough vibration of Hudson soothing her.

Trace made a fool of me, and now I have to pick up the pieces. And even though I know my family is here for me, I’m ashamed. Ashamed that I trusted too soon, got excited way too early and let myself be happy. I let myself believe my life was falling into place.

I should have known it was too easy.

Dolly had to stalk Hudson for years and beat the living shit out of her competition. A few salty remarks at a tattoo parlor? Of course that wasn’t it. Of course it wasn’t that easy.

My stomach burns with hunger and unease, but I can’t eat. Every time I try to open my mouth, I cry. I wanted to tell Juniper exactly what happened, why I did what I did, I wanted to explain to Dash and Sterling that I’m not some brat throwing a tantrum. To tell them I destroyed Trace’s car because he destroyed my heart, and when you think of it in those terms, he got off pretty easy.

But every time I tried, sobs smothered my words, and I just couldn’t.

Sterling carried me from his truck, Juniper behind him, guiding him to my room. He laid me down, Dash brought his medical kit and threw some loose stitches into my palm as Juniper wiped blood from my arms and face using a damp washcloth. She brought in hot tea and toast with my favorite jam, but the tea went cold and the toast is stale, the jam now too sticky.

I can’t do anything but lie here, stare at the stars through the window and wonder how. How can a person be so cruel?

And just as I’m finally finding peace in sleep, there’s commotion outside.

We live in the sticks, commotion is rare. Dash promised he wouldn’t say anything, so I have no worry that it’s the police department. He must really like my sister if he’s willing to break the law and risk his job for her.

The jam must really be good.

There’s a slam, then another, and a third, and then the doorbell shudders through the whole house. Three people, judging by the car doors, are here, on the porch.

Ev and Deuce, maybe? But who’s the third?

A moment later, my bedroom door is opening, dim light from the hall pouring over the end of my bed. The light is gone just as fast, and the door clicks closed.

My heart twitches in my throat, my good hand sore from clutching the blanket so hard. My chin trembles with a sob I’m holding back. Because I know who's here.

I can smell him, pine and cedar, a scent that just hours ago would have me melting.

“Ivy,” he croaks, and a moment later, my bed dips. His hand finds my calf, and tears flank my cheeks as he smooths it up my leg, over my thigh, sinking his fingertips into my hip. His touch still sends waves of heat sweeping through my insides, pebbling my nipples and tossing bumps along my flesh. My eyes roll closed at his proximity, wishing so much that I could go back in time and save my heart by avoiding this man.

He turned out to be everything the tabloids said he was, everything Google warned me about, and yet here I am, crying in bed like a complete cliché.

“Ivy,” he tries again, causing me to twist in bed, jerking and thrashing until the covers are off and I’m sitting up, glaring at his beautiful face in the partial moonlight.

“Shut up, Trace, shut up. Stop saying my name. Stop ruining my name with your stupid voice!” I shout, my temples pounding, my chest racked with a constant ache, one that I don’t think has anything to do with stress, adrenaline crashes or dehydration. I fear that pain is heartache.

He nods slowly, as if agreeing with the way I’m lashing out, and that only makes me angrier. Sterling took my boots off, or else I’d muster the last of my energy to kick Trace in his perfect face.

“I’m going to ask you for a big favor right now, okay? I understand what you’re feeling but please, one favor, okay?”

“Why? Why should I give you anything?” I hate that I can’t stop my bottom lip from giving me away. “I gave you everything and you stuck your tongue down some client’s throat. I’m done giving you things, Trace, now get the fuck out of my room and out of my life!”

Rearing back, with my fist balled, I strike, aiming for his nose. But he’s quick, and he catches my fist in his palm, keeping my arm suspended in air as his eyes hold mine.

“Please listen, Ivy. That’s the favor, okay? I need you to listen.”

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