Page 33 of Fire

There’s the smile I remember. Go figure I finally see it again because she insulted me.

“Though,” Ivy continues, “her life has had a lot of upheaval lately and she’s not always her best self because of it.”

“Are you saying you don’t think we should tell her I’m her father?”

“No, Micah. No. That’s not at all what I’m saying. I guess I’m trying to introduce her to you. Helping you to know who she is. Nell’s bright and vibrant and makes me smile every day, but she’s struggling right now, with the move, then the fire, which means she’s acting out at school a little and is having trouble sleeping. You deserve to know these things about her so we can make a plan that’s good for all of us.”

I deserve to have been a part of her life from the beginning. The words are right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. Who’s the fire eater now?

“I don’t want to mess this up with her, Ives. Everything I do right now matters when it comes to her.”

And with you, I think but don’t say. Everything about us being together again matters.

“Micah…” Ivy takes my hand and there it is again. The urge to pull her out of her chair and into my arms, to crush her to my chest and obliterate the last seven years with my mouth on hers. “I am so sorry,” she says, oblivious to the war raging inside me. “I hope, someday, you can forgive me.”

I can barely hear her through my desire to erase the distance between us. Carefully, but firmly, I slide my hand from hers. “I’m sure we’ll figure everything out. We always do.”

At least, we always did.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ivy

Micah can’t stand to touch me. He can barely stand to look at me. After so many years of him being my bad guy, this shouldn’t bother me.

But it does.

Micah is warm. Kind. Big and bold. He goes after what he wants, and I miss the way it felt when what he wanted was me. I wish he’d leave his hand on mine. I wish he’d look at me without looking away. I wish he’d hear me when I say I so deeply regret the way things turned out.

We decide that Nell and I will move into his house tomorrow. It’s short notice, but Micah’s off work and since it’s Saturday, Nell won’t be at school. She can help with the move.

“She might not see it as such a big scary change if she’s part of it, you know? If she’s carrying things to her room and deciding where they go…” Micah’s eyes lock on mine with an intensity I don’t know what to do with. There was a time when I always knew what he was thinking.

I don’t anymore.

He seems less angry than he did at the foundation, which is a start, I guess. But the hurt in his eyes, I know that feeling. I’ve lived with it for years. The realization that the person you thought was your world didn’t feel the same about you. I hate knowing I made him feel that way.

But why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to have a phone?

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” I slide my chair back, unsure if we’re done talking, unsure if he wants me to leave or wants me to stay.

If there was any doubt as to the damage Julian has done to me, sitting here with Micah brought it all into focus. Before I moved to Seattle, I never worried if he’d get mad if I stood at the wrong time, or apologized the wrong way, I just…existed. I’ve been walking on eggshells since I stepped into The Pact, which has shown me how uncomfortable I am all the time. Checking. Watching. Adjusting. Nothing I do is natural anymore.

Everything I do is a response to Julian. Everything.

Never again. I will never let someone dictate my life again.

“Tomorrow it is.” Micah nods, sliding his chair back until a thought strikes him. “Unless you need help packing tonight. I don’t have anything going on. If you need help that is.”

He frowns, like the thought of spending more time with me is upsetting.

“You’ve done enough for us already.” I resist the urge to place my hand on his arm. It bothers him when I touch him. For me, as years of resentment have slid away, all I want is to find myself in the last place I remember feeling safe—Micah’s arms. It’s like we’ve switched places.

Micah and I walk in awkward silence through The Pact, into a fresh September evening. Night has fallen and the moon is big and low, a crescent so bright it’s nearly white. If Nell were here, she’d reach for it, jumping like she could hook her fingers along the edge and zoom off into the sky.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I say as I reach my car. Micah grunts, then gives me a sad smile that doesn’t make sense on his face. His features were built for grinning, for laughing, not for serious discussions like this.

“Tomorrow it is.”

---