Page 14 of Fire

That isn’t just any woman, crying in the middle of a parking lot, tracking down groceries on her hands and knees on burning pavement while a storm brews.

That’s Ivy.

Teenaged me actually believed she would be my wife one day. Like when our paths inevitably crossed again, we’d fall right back into the way things used to be.

Since the fire, I’ve tried to put her out of my mind. Tried and failed. Over and over, right up until Nathan mentioned her at the bar and she became the only thing I could think about.

And now here she is, right in front of me. Still looking small…

Frail…

Crying…

“Ivy.” Her name tastes like memories and feels like hope. I smile, despite everything.

The expression fades when she glances up.

Tears stream down her face and she squeezes her eyes shut as if she can’t stand the sight of me. “Not today,” she mutters as wind lashes her hair. “Not now.”

She’s not talking to me.

She can barely bring herself to look at me.

“Hey.” I crouch, putting a hand on her shoulder and she stills.

Nothing. No glance in my direction. No smile of recognition. Just her, staring at the pavement while her entire body quivers and shakes. Her breath is short and shallow. I’d give money this is a panic attack, and it kills me to see her like this.

Placing a finger to her chin, I lift her gaze to mine. “Come on now. Spilled groceries aren’t worth tears in your Cheerios.”

She snorts at the phrase we used when we were kids, an inside joke about the day we found my little brother, Levi, crying over video games at breakfast. The brief laugh dissolves into tears and she hangs her head, her shoulders shaking and quaking and what the hell is going on?

Carefully wrapping an arm around her waist, I help her stand. “Come on. I’ve got you. Let’s get you off the ground.”

“But the food…” Ivy clutches a can of peaches to her chest. “I’ve gotta clean up this mess and oh no, no, no, the eggs are ruined…”

Her breath speeds and she starts to tremble again, placing a hand to her heart while she sags into my arms.

“Hey now, hey. Look at me. Look at me. Everything’s gonna be all right. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Her pale blue eyes meet mine and the past and the present collide. She was my everything and that feeling hasn’t faded. It’s right there, still burning a hole in my chest.

She glances back at the mess. “But—”

“Let’s take care of you first, then we’ll worry about the food. This you?” I gesture to a car that is so unlike anything Ivy would drive. Clear coat missing. Rust winning the war against red paint. Since when would her dad let her behind the wheel of something this jacked? “Is it unlocked?”

She jostles a set of keys out of her purse and hands them over. I click the fob, then lead her to the passenger seat and crouch. My hands on her knees. Eyes on hers. Fuck, that face. I used to know every inch of it. Now there’s tension crouching in her brows, fear hollowing out her gaze. I’ve never seen her look like this.

A crack of thunder has her jumping out of her skin and tears well in her eyes.

At least one thing hasn’t changed. Ivy never did like storms.

“You just breathe.” I pat her knees and stand. “I’ll get your food off the ground.”

It’s a small haul, just the necessities. The eggs are shot, but aside from a few dents and dings, everything else survived. I shove it into bags that aren’t broken, then deposit them in the back before returning to Ivy.

Her breathing has slowed, and the tears have stopped, but she still looks so…sad.

Broken.

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