Page 32 of Fire

Something in her posture, or her voice, or, fuck, I don’t know, just something catches my attention and sets off my alarm bells. Her eyes are downcast. Her voice is flat. She sounds defeated and the Ivy I knew never went down without a fight. I reach across the table and put my hand on hers.

It’s a reflex.

My body acting on impulse.

I can’t be this close to her, can’t see her this wrong, and not do something.

But the moment my skin brushes hers, a chain reaction of emotion and desire riots through my system. This is Ivy. My Ivy. I love her and hate her and want to help her and blame her all at the same time. It’s too much.

Her eyes meet mine and I pull my hand away.

“The offer to take my second floor is still open,” I say, clearing my throat when my voice is still too gruff. “There’s a bathroom up there with a spare bedroom, and an office that can easily become one more.”

I wait for her to latch onto the joke that’s right there, begging her to notice. Me with an office…

It’s laughable.

Huttons have offices, so I gave myself one when I bought my house. I’m just not that good at being a Hutton and have zero need for an office. I don’t read or sit hunched in front of a laptop late into the night. If anyone knows that, it’s the woman across from me.

Instead, she sits so straight, looking so tense, I barely recognize her. “There’s no need to rearrange your life for us…”

I frown. Something is definitely wrong and sure, it could be this impossible situation we find ourselves in, but my gut says it’s more. “There’s every need to rearrange my life for my daughter and her mother. It’s not like I need an office anyway. You know, given I am who I am and everything.”

The last statement is a trail of breadcrumbs, leading her to the joke she shouldn’t have missed. The Ivy I used to know would have given me hell for turning the extra room into an office instead of a workout room, or a TV room or, you know, anything else at all.

“Desks never were your thing, were they?” Ivy smiles weakly. “You always did your best work on the move.”

It’s not exactly the ball-busting zinger I was expecting, but it’s something at least.

“I won’t be around the house much. I work twenty-four-hour shifts every couple days and am helping a coworker and his family out. He was injured at work, and it was pretty bad…” And if I’d been doing my job better, he wouldn’t have been injured at all. “If you’re worried we’ll be in each other’s faces all the time, don’t. I’ll make myself scarce.”

Ivy nods. “I’ll start looking for a job right away so I can get an apartment as soon as possible. I promise you won’t have to share your space for long.”

If things had gone a different way, sharing my space with Ivy and our daughter would be the most natural thing in the world. What a clusterfuck.

“There’s no rush on the apartment. Really. Having you with me will give me a chance to get to know Nell better.” I suck in my lips. It feels strange to say her name. “I’d like to be part of her life.”

Ivy nods again. “Of course. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about. How do you want to move forward with her?”

“How do I…? What’s that even mean, Ivy? Move forward?” She’s so formal. So detached. It’s like her volume’s been turned down. Her color washed out. Like someone put her in the dryer on the wrong setting and she shrank.

“I mean, well, what does being part of her life mean to you? Do you want to tell her you’re her father? When? How? What does this, us, the three of us coming together, how do you think that should work, Micah?” Ivy’s shoulders sag, like she’s carrying the whole damn world up there and can’t hold on much longer.

A trio of men at a table nearby burst out laughing and one of them jerks out of his chair, swiping at a mess of beer in his lap. I watch the commotion while her question rattles about in my head.

How does this work?

How do I, Micah Hutton, tell a little girl he just met that I’m her father? Just drop the news like that guy’s beer and hope it lands better than his did?

And in what fucking world would Ivy Cole ask me something this important and not have an opinion on the matter? The girl I remember would have told me exactly how it should work, and damn it, she’d be right on the money. Who is this meek person sitting across from me, wide-eyed and terrified?

“I don’t know, Ivy.” I sit back. “How do you think this should work? I haven’t had a lot of time to think about this and the sad truth is that I don’t know my daughter. I’m her dad, but the only one she’s ever known lives across the country.” I try not to sneer at the thought of Ivy’s fiancé, ex or not. I don’t know the guy, and I shouldn’t judge him, but I don’t like him on principle. “I want to be part of Nell’s life, but only in a way that’s good for her and I’m gonna need your help understanding where that line is.”

“Julian isn’t good for her. He wasn’t good for me.” Ivy flares her hands and looks away, swallowing a flare of anger like a fire eater swallowing a flame. “The whole reason I’m back in the Keys is to get away from him. To get her away from him.” She holds out her palms then places them on the table. “That doesn’t mean anything for this conversation, I just…said it.”

Her ring’s gone. I hated seeing that thing on her finger but could concede he’d been there when I wasn’t. But now? Hearing that? This Julian better not set foot in Florida or he’ll have one pissed off Hutton to deal with. Or rather, many pissed off Huttons to deal with. My family is huge, and we stick together.

“As far as what’s good for Nell?” Ivy sighs deeply, relaxing her posture a fraction. “She’s…well she’s a lot like you. Smart. Energetic. Bullheaded.”

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