Page 88 of Fire

Micah

I pull into my driveway behind a bright red Suburban that looks a hell of a lot like the one that cut me off the other morning. The one with the dark tinted windows and the shitty tourist who doesn’t know how to drive.

“What the fuck?” I mutter as I kill the engine.

There’s a man on the porch with Ivy and somehow, I just know this is Julian. She’s angry, gesturing wildly, and he’s standing there in a fucking suit and tie, arms crossed like he thinks he’s a big man.

He’s not.

He might be rich and used to getting his way, but he’s smaller than me by a lot. While something in his build says he’s good on a treadmill, I bet he crumples under real work.

Ivy glances over his shoulder as I climb out of the car. She stills, her face blanching and the douche at the door turns, smirking like my jeans and T-shirt mean I’m below him.

“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice low, level, and not betraying the wildfire of rage in my veins. I promised myself that if her ex set foot in the Keys, he’d regret it. Looks like the guy’s gonna learn how important a promise is to me.

“This is him?” Julian’s voice drips with smugness. “This is who you left me for?”

“I didn’t leave you for anyone. I just left.” Ivy’s voice trembles and her eyes are wild but she’s not letting him get away with being a dick. Good for her.

I climb the steps, my eyes never leaving Julian’s until I stop, directly between him and Ivy. “You’re gonna need to leave.”

He has the audacity to laugh. “I’m gonna need my wife and daughter first.”

“Hmm. You must have the wrong house. Because she’s not married and the little girl? That’s my daughter!” I glare into a haughty face. I’ve got four or five inches and at least fifty pounds of muscle on the guy.

“This is what you want?” he asks Ivy, holding up a hand as if to block me from view. “This caveman? This piece of blue-collar trash? This is what you want for Nell?”

She nods, lifting her chin and taking my hand. “Micah’s the one for me. He always has been.”

“I flew across the country to get you back, Ivy.” He points at me. “And this guy? The one who got a teenage girl pregnant and then disappeared? What did he do? Huh?”

“Leave, Julian.” Ivy holds out her palms, sounding more certain than I’ve heard her sound since she moved in. “Leave and never come back. I don’t love you. You aren’t good for me. I don’t want to be with you. I love Micah and he loves me and even if he had disappeared—which he didn’t—I’d be better with him than I was with you.”

Julian recoils. “You’re such a fucking cunt and that daughter of yours has been a pain in my ass from the start. You know what? Good riddance.”

I grab the asshole by his shirt and pull him close, eye-to-fucking-eye. “You don’t talk to her that way, asshole.”

“Get your hands off me.”

“Not until you apologize.”

“You better believe you’ll be hearing from my lawyers. I have a whole fucking team. The best money can buy. You’ll regret this day.”

“I don’t think I will.” I drag the man down the steps, and he stumbles along beside me. “See, I might be a humble firefighter, but I know my way around financial stuff more than you’d think. And the places where I fall down, my family steps up. So, you go right ahead and bring your team, but I guaran-fucking-tee mine is stronger.”

Julian’s feet hit the driveway and scrabble for purchase as I haul him over to the Suburban and toss him at the hood. He stumbles, slamming into the thing with a hearty exhale that makes me smile. He deserves a fist to the fucking face, but I won’t give him the pleasure.

He pushes himself into a standing position, scowling as he straightens his shirt and jacket, his face red and puckered like the tomato in Nell’s bad dream, sweating in the humid morning air. He squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, sneers at Ivy, and just when I decide I’m going to have to throw that punch anyway, the passenger door on the Suburban opens and out steps Franklin Cole.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Micah

Ivy’s dad stands in my driveway with a shitty fucking smirk aimed right at me. His wheat-colored hair has thinned, and it’s brushed back from his face. He’s clean shaven and too thin, his cheeks gaunt, his eyes hard. His three-piece suit looks ridiculous on a muggy Florida morning, but Franklin cares more about presentation than practicality. Always has. Probably always will. Julian grins like he thinks he pulled an ace out of his pocket. Little does he know that Franklin has no influence over me. I’m not impressed by money or power, things Ivy’s father holds in high esteem. Maybe that’s why he always hated me.

“Dad?” Ivy calls, coming down the steps to stop beside me. She’s pale, her blue eyes flashing with indignation. I put an arm around her shoulder and pull her close while her father glares like she’s a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe.

“You aren’t any more welcome here than that asshole.” I jerk my chin toward Julian, who huffs in indignation.

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