Page 22 of Fire

“You know what?” My cousin rubs a hand over his mouth, buying himself time to think. “You and Ivy can have my office. I’ll take little…” He trails off, looking at Ivy’s daughter…

…my daughter…

…our daughter…

“I’m Nell.” She bounces out of the chair with her hand extended. “Penelope Michaela Cole, pleased to meet you.”

Michaela. Fucking Michaela?

The name Ivy claimed she wanted for our daughter.

How does that make sense, given she couldn’t be bothered to tell me she was pregnant?

Is that supposed to be a middle fucking finger my way? Some kind of shitty private joke?

Ivy stands, looking angrier than she has a right to. “I don’t have much to say to you, Micah.”

“I have a lot to say to you and I can either do it here, with an audience, or we can do it in private. Your call. But a conversation will happen.”

Her eyes flash and her lip curls with…what the fuck is that? Contempt? She has no right. No fucking right.

I turn to Nathan. “Feel like showing us that office before things get out of hand?”

CHAPTER TEN

Micah

Ivy and I follow Nathan wordlessly down a maze of identical hallways, rats in a trap. Rage and treachery swim through me. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

When we reach his office, Nathan takes Nell’s hand—

…Penelope Michaela Cole, pleased to meet you!…

—and leads her in a different direction, mentioning something about the ice cream in the cafeteria, leaving me and Ivy to stare at each other from opposite corners of the room.

When we were kids, silence could sit comfortably between us and that meant something to me. Something important. I’ve always been the guy who rushes to fill quiet moments with whatever the hell decides to come out of my mouth. Ivy was the only person to make me feel relaxed enough to sit quietly and enjoy simply being.

You better believe silence sits between us today, but there’s nothing comfortable about it. It’s charged, crackling with electricity. With pain. With betrayal and rage and…

“That’s my daughter.” I flare my hands as the word crushes the breath in my lungs.

I have a daughter.

A six-year-old little girl who doesn’t even know who I am. Who looks to some other man as the only father she’s ever known. She has hopes and fears and dreams and favorites and I just learned her whole name today.

Why?

Why would Ivy do this to me? Why would she break me like this? Was I not good enough for her after all? Not good enough to be part of our daughter’s life? Was everything she said to me a lie?

Ivy folds her arms across her chest. “You act surprised.”

“Surprised? Surprised?” I press a hand to my mouth to keep from saying something I regret. “There isn’t a word for how I’m feeling right now.” I barely recognize my own voice and slide my hand back up to cover my mouth.

It would be better to say nothing than what’s in my head right now.

Unfortunately, my mouth isn’t paying attention to that thought.

“I have a daughter, Ivy. We have a daughter.” I can’t stand still. I pace, crossing the room, back and forth, stopping in front of Ivy to hold out my hands in frustration. “I’ve missed out on everything that’s ever happened to her! And you stand here and have the balls to look offended that I’m surprised?”

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