Page 81 of Fire

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Micah

I walk into the house to find Ivy with sheets of paper spread over the dinner table. There’s a pen in one hand, her phone in the other, and different colors of highlighters in a straight line beside her. It reminds me of the way she studied for the SATs while my dumb ass wasn’t even planning to take them. She grins as I come in.

“What’s all this?” I ask, pulling out a chair to sit beside her. “Did you decide to start looking at colleges?”

“I started to.” Ivy flashes me a smile before she puts her phone back in her face. “But then I…well…I’m apartment hunting.”

What the fuck? Apartments? Is she kidding me? “Why?”

The question is blunt and sharp and maybe I should have been gentler, but I’m tired of constantly being pushed away. I’m not him. I’ll never be him. And sure, she’s afraid she hasn’t had enough time to change and heal, but she’ll always have a voice with me. How can she still not see it?

Ivy glances in my direction, but she might as well be looking through me. “Nell and I, we can’t live here forever. It’s not right to take advantage of you like this.”

“Take advantage?” I stand and move to the other side of the room, leaning on the wall, physically distancing myself in the hopes it’ll keep me from saying something she won’t want to hear.

It doesn’t work.

“Ivy.” I fold my arms over my chest, saying her name too harshly. “How many times do I have to say you’re not taking advantage of me. I like having you here.”

She picks up a highlighter and pulls off the cap before dragging it across a line of text, then double-checks it against whatever’s on her phone. Busy, busy, busy. “And I like being here. It’s just…don’t you think I should know what it’s like to support myself? I’ve never had to do that before.”

Oh Jesus. This again? Really?

“I think you should do whatever makes you happy. If you’re happy here, great. If you’re not…?” I rake my hands through my hair and yank open the fridge without a clue as to what I’m looking for. All I want is her, but she keeps pushing me away.

Oblivious, Ivy continues, “I moved out of my dad’s house and right into Julian’s. Then went from Julian to Grandma and from Grandma to you. That doesn’t sound like someone who’s capable of taking care of herself. It sounds like someone who, you know, takes advantage.” She highlights something else and suddenly, everything about her seems wrong. This isn’t Ivy studying for the SATs, this is a woman who’s panicking and keeping herself busy to avoid whatever’s in her head. This is distraction as a survival mechanism.

“Ivy…?” I let the fridge door close. “Where is all this coming from?”

She chews her bottom lip. “My mom called today.”

“And I take it that didn’t go very well?”

Ivy stares at the mess of papers in front of her, shuffling them around like the answer might be written somewhere in one of the piles. “She just said some stuff that really got me thinking. I was talking about how I’m working to be more independent, and she pointed out that…” She shrugs and finally makes eye contact. She’s hollow and scared and hurt and confused. It’s all dancing through those pale blue eyes and why does it feel like she listens to everyone else whenever they have something to say, but won’t listen to me?

I take a step toward her. “She pointed out…?”

“That I’m really not independent. That I’m making the same mistakes I’ve always made.”

“I see.”

“And since I’m making such a big deal about how Dad kept his thumb on me, and Julian did the same, it got me to thinking that maybe I should spend some time with just me. You know, just in case.”

Swallowing hard and breathing deep, I open the fridge again and pull out a beer. “In case what?” I ask, twisting off the lid. “Do you feel like I have my thumb on you?” I’ve done everything her way from the day she moved in, even when it drove me crazy. If that counts as being a controlling prick, then I don’t know what planet I’m on anymore.

“No. What? Not at all.” Ivy frowns, shaking her head. “I feel more able to be myself with you than with anyone. It’s just…” She picks at her fingers. “What if I’m making the same mistake?”

I take a swig, keeping my eyes trained on hers. “And that mistake would be making yourself dependent on me.”

She’s nervous. Aware I’m upset, but still trying to make her point. At least there’s that. Because the woman who moved in with me would have already started backing away, already dropped the topic to keep the peace. I smile, proud of her and Ivy releases a breath.

“Look at it from my perspective,” she says softly. “I’ve just learned that the way I was living? It’s wrong. Every choice I made, every decision I allowed someone else to make for me, it led to me being shoved into a life I didn’t want. And so now I question everything. If what feels right is wrong, how do I know what ‘right’ actually is? All I know is that I shouldn’t trust my instincts, but how do I know what’s instinct and what’s a well thought out decision? I don’t know.”

I drag my hands down my face, then pull back my chair and sit, taking her hand in mine. These are questions I’m not prepared to answer. Deep thoughts I can’t even begin to tackle. But for her, I’ll try.

After a few minutes of pensive silence, I know how to begin. “How do you think we’d be if we were a normal family?”

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