Page 8 of Fire

“That’s the thing.” Nathan sits back, hefting his beer and shaking his head. “She didn’t ask. She’s just so hyper-focused on the topic. It’s all she talks about and I’m starting to feel bad.”

Which is probably the entire reason she’s bringing it up so much, I think but don’t say.

Garrett folds his arms on the table. “You guys aren’t even living together. Isn’t it kind of a leap to start paying for her kids’ education?”

Angela pats Nathan’s hand. “It’s incredibly noble of you to want to take care of her girls, but I agree with my husband.”

“A total Nator Tot move. You’re just that kind of guy.” Even if Blossom’s girls don’t deserve it. I’ve never met more spoiled kids and growing up in a family with millionaires everywhere you look, you’d think I’d have firsthand experience.

“Speaking of kids and single moms” —Nathan risks a glance my way— “Ivy was at the foundation the other day.”

Her name is a punch to the gut, but I play it cool, just like I did when I told everyone how she acted the night of the fire. As the lowest achieving member of a family filled with business owners, CEOs, novelists, rock stars, and philanthropists, the last thing I want is to give anyone a reason to feel sorry for me.

I’m good. No. I’m great.

I love what I do for a living. The strange hours and wide array of skills I need to excel at my job mean every day is slightly different than the last. Which keeps me interested enough to stay motivated. Besides, it gives me purpose. Me doing my job right can be the difference between life and death for some people and I don’t take that lightly.

“Why?” I ask, cool as fucking ice. “She looking for a job?”

Nathan starts to respond, but my “Ivy thoughts” have spent too much time locked in my head. I couldn’t stop talking if I tried.

“Before she moved to Seattle,” I continue, “she wanted to be a psychologist. I have no idea how far she is on that. How many years of school does she need? How many has she had? We fell out of touch, you know? I had that breakdown right after she left, and I broke my phone. And I mean I fucking shattered the thing. My grades were shit, attitude was too, so Mom and Dad wouldn’t replace it and made me go without one until I got my head on straight, which took a while. Then, Uncle Caleb doubled down and challenged me to go without it for another couple months. He’s always been kind of anti-tech, you know? Anyway, I thought it was dumb, but he didn’t think I could do it and I never back down from a challenge, even one that sucks. So, I went without one for three months. Remember that?” I ask Angela and Nathan.

“Oh, believe me, I remember,” Angela says, laughing lightly, while Nator Tot, shakes his head like reliving the trauma of that experience is too much for him, even all these years later.

“I went nuts, but it was good for me,” I say to Garrett.

“Even if it wasn’t so good for the rest of us.” Angela fist bumps Nathan across the table.

“No texts,” I continue, as if she hadn’t spoken. “No social media. Just real, honest conversations with people. And when I finally got my phone back, Ivy and I never really reconnected.” And by that, I mean she never responded to the texts, phone calls, or emails I sent, trying to reconnect. Probably because she’d met the father of her kid and didn’t have the balls to tell me. “But I can totally see her wanting to work—”

“Micah.” Nathan puts a hand on my arm. “Breathe man. You’re rambling and that’s never a good sign.”

Garrett schools his dumbfounded face into something that doesn’t look like he thinks I’ve lost my shit. “I take it this is the high school girlfriend he never fell out of love with?” he asks his wife.

“The one who’s back with a kid and won’t talk to him,” Angela whispers in response.

“She talked to me. It just wasn’t what I expected. But, you know, her house was in the middle of burning down, so I can’t really blame her.” I turn to Nathan to drown out the memory of Ivy walking away from me that night. “Anyway, is she trying to get a job at the foundation?”

When he was in high school, Nathan got a job as an intern at The Reversal of Fortune Foundation—a charity our aunt Maisie started for underprivileged kids. Since then, he’s risen through the ranks and is now a big fucking deal down there. He’s got a fancy title and a big ass office where he sits in his expensive suits, making life easier for kids who got dealt a bad hand. He’s a fucking hero in my eyes.

Nathan shakes his head and stares into his beer. “Not exactly.”

Oh, no way. Now is not the time for him to decide to withhold information. I rear back and hold out my hands. “You can’t drop a bomb like that and expect me not to want more.”

“It’s unethical for me to discuss what goes on at the foundation.”

“Yeah. Sure. I get it. But you’re talking to me, here. The cousin who stepped up and got you a date to prom with Danica Brown after Miranda Servati turned you down. And, you’re talking about someone we all know and love. Ivy Cole, man. It’s not that unethical.”

“It’s pretty unethical.” Nathan shakes his head, and I can see him shutting down and burrowing into his favorite place, the moral high ground. If I don’t get him to cave soon, he never will.

“I swear it’ll go no further than this table. Come on, man. You owe me. There’s gotta be a cousin code or something. I’ll…” I shake my head, wracking my brain for something, anything. “I’ll never call you Nator Tot again!”

And there it is. The arch to his brow means I have his attention.

“Never?”

“Never.”

---