Page 81 of Tender Temptation

“Call or text 9-1-1 then call your mom.” Cillian flicks his gaze to where my dad lies moaning. “I need to get you away from him after what happened, but we can’t let him lie there. He needs help.”

His grip tightens and he carries me out of the house to the car where he places me gently in the passenger seat then gets in beside me. My hands are shaking uncontrollably. I manage to pull out my phone and dial 9-1-1, explaining the situation as best as I can. “Please, my father has cancer. He was drinking. I think it interfered with his medication and he collapsed.” I give them the address. “Send someone fast.”

Once the operator assures me help is on the way, I dial my mom’s number. It takes a few rings before she answers. “Mom, where are you? I had a horrible fight with Dad and he fell down. I called for an ambulance, it’s on the way.”

“I’m next door at my book club, I’ll be right over.” She sounds frightened and I hear her mumble something to the ladies as she leaves.

Cillian takes the phone from my trembling hand. “Mrs. Bright, this is Cillian McLoughlin.” He keeps his voice calm,though his knuckles are white against the steering wheel. “This might come as a shock, but your daughter, Ivy, and I have been seeing each other. Stan found out today. It didn’t go well.” He takes a deep breath as he listens to whatever my mom is saying before answering. “He got worked up and said some unforgivable things to your daughter. He kicked us out of the house and we were on our way out when he collapsed. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, less than a minute ago. No, he’s breathing. He’s alive.” He stops as my mom speaks. “Yeah, that’s correct. Ivy called 9-1-1. We’re in the driveway and won’t leave until you or the ambulance gets here. Then I’m taking Ivy to my place. She can’t go back inside after the abuse he hurled at her.”

Cillian keeps the phone out until my mom scurries into the house, glancing at us with a quick, frantic wave before disappearing inside.

Everything is blurry. I’m vaguely aware of a siren and Cillian backing up the car and driving away as the ambulance pulls in. I’m more focused on his hand, which rests on my thigh. His touch keeps me from slipping into some sort of fugue state.

All of a sudden, I can’t hold it in any longer. I curl into a ball and sob and sob and sob. My body shakes uncontrollably.

The secret about my dad’s dark side is out.

And now, I can never go back home.

thirty-six

Cillian

Half Hour Later

I’ve never been soscared in my life.

Or so fucking angry.

We hit traffic and it’s tested every ounce of my patience to get to my townhouse, but finally we’re here.

My heart aches for Ivy. She’s curled up in the passenger seat shaking like a leaf. Her eyes are vacant and unfocused.

Seeing her like this, shattered by her father’s cruelty, makes me realize how horrific things must have been growing up. She’s never shared much about thispart of her home life, other than what happened to her brother and how traumatic it was for her parents. Jesus Christ, with all their wealth and status, they’ve done Ivy such a great disservice.

How am I going to help her through this?

My own mind is reeling from what happened. The things her father said. The venom in his words…I’ve never seen this side of him before. For the past three years, he’s been tough but also fair and kind. It’s hard to reconcile the monster we encountered with the man who laughed and joked with me and my folks at Ivy’s birthday party a couple of weeks ago.

Now’s not the time to dissect it, though. I park the car and rush around to help her out. She attempts to stand, but her legs buckle immediately. Without another thought, I scoop her into my arms, cradle her quivering body against mine and carry her inside all the way up to my bedroom where I gently lay her down on the bed.

The townhouse is blessedly silent, a stark contrast to the chaos we experienced at Ivy’s house. It’s hard to believe she’s never been here before—we couldn’t make it happen after we got back together with her father’s setback. As I tuck her into bed, I hope the unfamiliar surroundings won’t scare her.

“I’m here for you, baby,” I whisper as I unbutton her blouse. “Let me help you get comfortable.”

Ivy’s eyes are almost blank as I undress her and help her into one of my sweatshirts. My clothes are far too big, but atleast she’ll be warm. I pull back the duvet and gently slide her under the blankets. Then, I undress and slip in beside her, enveloping her in my arms. She’s cold. Or in shock. I don’t know, but her body shivers uncontrollably. I press my lips to her forehead, wishing I could take away what just happened.

Once I’ve gotten her tucked tightly in the crook of my arm, I search for information on my phone about how to help someone experiencing a traumatic shock. I read about the symptoms—chills, dizziness, shakiness, rapid heartbeat—check, check, check, and check.Shit. Apparently, her brain is trying to protect her from the emotional abuse she experienced. For now, all I can do is provide her with comfort and support.

I’m not a patient man, though. If she doesn’t settle within the hour, I’m bringing her to the emergency room.

Thankfully, Ivy begins to relax a bit. I kiss her forehead and whisper soothing words. “I’m here, Ivy. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

She turns and nestles against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Almost like a reflex, her entire body stiffens and with one final full-body shudder, she finally let’s go, collapsing against me. I hold her tighter, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

I’ll do whatever it takes to help her heal. She deserves to be happy and loved without conditions or judgment.

Ivy’s breathing steadies and she falls asleep. I wait until she’s completely out and, careful not to wake her, gently slide out of bed.

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