Page 89 of Writing On The Wall

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

IVY

Ethan bringing a duffel bag over and showering at my house feels so domestic that I’m beating the crap out of this pizza dough to distract myself from freaking out. Things are moving so fast. I think that’s why I keep finding things to keep us busy, because if we’re still too long, then the real, raw parts of our relationship are brought to the surface. And it scares me. We haven’t exactly had a long time to establish roots. Heck, I only moved out of thedespising himphase a few months ago. Is that even long enough to build a foundation strong enough to keep him from inevitably jetting off?

My sticky hands continue kneading, transferring all my frustrations into the dough. Hopefully this isn’t like talking to plants, and the food won’t taste bitter and gross because of the energy I’m massaging into the gluten.

I attempt to move my hair out of my face with a heavy exhale, switching to the crook of my elbow when it falls back in front of my eyes.

Then my head pops up at a sudden knocking on the door, and I lean back to hear if Ethan is still in the shower.

The knocking picks up, increasing in urgency. With a huff, I grab a dish towel, wiping my hands as I rush to the door and swing it open. “Jeez, Toby, keep your pants—Ross. What’re you doing here?”

“Hey, Vee. Can I come in?”

With my hand on the door I turn, biting my lip as I glance behind me. “I’m actually in the middle of something.”

“Can I just talk to you for two minutes? I swear Ivy, I’m trying—” He begins pacing the porch, hands gesturing haphazardly. When he pivots sharply, looking into my eyes for the first time—that’s when I know. I know what he’s here for. I only just manage to stop myself from groaning out loud, because the cycle of hope and disappointment has drained every last bit of energy from my bones. It’s like the stain on a shirt that you love. You treat it, throw it in the wash, only for it to come out flaunting the ghost of an oil mark. So you try again, rubbing in a bit of Dawn,because hey, if it can save the penguins, why can’t it save my shirt from the curry I had last week? But then it emerges, stain firmly in place. Sometimes you just have to accept it’s no longer the fancy going-out top you thought it would be. Now it’s just a yard work shirt, and you’d be less disappointed if you changed your expectations of it.

“Ross—” I croak out, my voice laced with sadness. We’re still standing in the doorway, but the space between us feels like the Grand Canyon. I keep wishing he’ll make a choice that will bridge the chasm that’s been growing for the past twenty years, because it’s not a gap I can mend on my own.

I’m about to continue when we’re both startled by Toby’s car door slamming shut. A storm cloud follows him as he marches up my driveway to stand beside me, his eyes locked on Ross. “Everything okay?”

My brother releases a heavy sigh, ignoring Toby’s presence as he resumes his pacing. He doesn’t give me a chance toanswer as he pivots back to me. “Ivy, just tell me if you’ve found it.”

“You can’t have it, Ross,” my voice comes out in a strained whisper.

“What’s going on?”

Perfect.

Ethan steps outside and joins my bodyguard detail, adopting a posture that mirrors Toby’s. Ross finally notices the two men beside me, crossing their arms and puffing their chests.

“I don’t know who you are, but this is between me and my sister.”

Ethan looks down at him like a kid who just tried to punch The Rock but broke his hand instead. “Wrong.”

Ross ignores him again, his eyes darting back to me, but I interject before he can say anything. “No.”

It only serves to dial up his agitation, and he speaks through clenched teeth now. “You don’tget it, Vee?—”

“Stop, Ross! I’m done being told I don’tget things,or that I don’t understand. You don’t get to use that card this time. No matter how differently I see things, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t keep rescuing you.”

He presses a palm into his bloodshot eye before lacing his fingers behind his neck. The dark circles create a ghostly look, and the man before me is hardly recognizable as he paces, each step crushing the last pieces of hope I’ve been holding onto.

“You have it, Ivy, and I know you don’t understand it, but Ineedit.” He pauses to shoot me one more beseeching look. Toby and Ethan sense the tension, both of them angling their bodies in front of me.

My lips tremble as I shake my head. Ross doesn’t understand that saying no to him is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Harder than giving him all my savings, harder than living out of my car and lying to my friends about it. A war rages oninside my head, as part of me still wants to give in, desperately thinking this could be the last time.

But we’ve had too many last times, and I know it’d never end.

My brother finally sees the resolution in my stare and turns with a curse, shoving his hands against the flimsy porch railing. At the sound of the wood cracking, Toby takes hold of my wrist, placing himself squarely in front of me while Ethan rushes for Ross.

It’s like someone turned the volume down in my head as I watch him march Ross off the porch.

“It's time for you to leave,” Ethan’s stern voice growls out.

Ross shoves him away, and I’m numb as I watch him climb into a car I’ve never seen before. He drives off, while Ethan’s rigid form stands sentry, making sure he disappears. It’s only a minute, but it feels like hours pass before Ethan walks back up the porch.

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