Page 55 of Fire

Nell scrunches up her face. “Nu-uh.”

“Yah-huh. Just you wait and see. Then you’ll learn the meaning of ‘big.’ ‘Loud’ too,” I whisper to Ivy, who chuckles as she pauses on her way to the kitchen.

“You want a drink?” she asks. “I could go for a glass of wine.”

“A beer sounds nice.”

Nell scampers off to play in her room before bed while Ivy grabs our drinks. When she returns, I lift an arm and she curls into me, like we used to when we were young. It’s a reflex on my part, and probably hers too, but it feels so right…

Family.

“I think I might’ve found a job,” she says, sipping her wine.

Happy for the distraction, I pull back to meet her gaze. “Really? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah. I’ll be a receptionist for a psychology group, so it’s a far cry from the psych degree I wanted, but you know, maybe, if I figure out how to get myself into school, the experience might help.” She shrugs. “Maybe not.”

A job is a step toward the independence she’s been craving, though it’s also a step toward that apartment I don’t want her to get. She’s so proud of herself, I’d be an asshole to bring that topic up, and damn if she hasn’t had enough of those in her life lately.

“Good for you, Ives. How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. You just took your first bite. You’re one step closer to living the dream.”

“It’s felt a lot like a dream, living here.” Her voice is quiet, her smile soft. “Like I woke up from a nightmare that lasted seven years.”

“I wish I could have…” What? Saved her? Stopped it from happening? Known I had a daughter and been part of her life from the start? “I just wish things had been better for you,” I finish lamely.

Ivy snuggles in closer. “But maybe, I don’t know, maybe I needed it. Maybe I needed to have my boundaries tested to see how easily they crumbled. Maybe I won’t be so weak the next time because I see myself more honestly. I know how dangerous it is not to pay attention.”

I run a hand through her hair, fighting every urge I have to kiss her. She’s talking about getting jobs and learning to be strong. About deep, life changing things, and my selfish ass just wants…her. Her moans. Her sighs. Her taste. Her touch.

Fucking one-time things.

Fucking friends.

Fucking jobs that will lead to apartments and fuck!

I distract myself by taking a drink. By staring at the wall. By remembering the way she glared at me the night of the fire, the way she looked so small and strange, like she had shoved herself into a box meant for someone else and didn’t know how to get out.

“Micah?” She shifts to meet my gaze.

Fuck. Those lips.

I glance away. “Yeah?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“What?” My focus darts back to hers. “No, not at all. What am I doing to make you think that?”

“Nothing.” She ducks her chin, and everything on her face says she’s lying.

“Ives…don’t do that. Not with me. You don’t need to censor yourself, okay?”

“I’m probably being neurotic.” She frowns at the word, like she can’t stand the taste. “You just got really quiet all the sudden. And it weirded me out. You’re not the quiet type.”

How do I handle this? Do I tell her I want to forget the whole one-time thing deal and inadvertently put pressure on her to do something she’s not ready for? Or do I lie and tell her everything’s fine, when it’s clear she can tell I’m preoccupied with something?

Shit man, she might be calling the wrong person neurotic. I haven’t given this much thought to something ever.

I decide to go with the truth, because that’s what she deserves.

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