Page 43 of Writing On The Wall

I crack the door open, peeking one eye out.

“Ross? What’re you doing here?”

“Way to greet me, Vee.” He smiles but the shadows beneath his eyes reveal his exhaustion.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect to see you. Uh—come in.” I force a smile in return and open the door wider.

“So you’re fixing up Gran’s old house, huh?” His lips curl as he takes in the room.

“Yeah,” I say trailing behind him.

I guess we’re sticking to small talk, then. It’s probably better than diving into the big stuff that will inevitably upset us both. And unless Ross has miraculously started making responsiblelife choices, I’m not looking forward to hearing what he’s been up to, especially since I’m still dealing with the consequences of his last few mistakes.

The silence hangs in the air between us as we stroll through the house. He seems wistful, his mouth tugging up when his eyes land on a few different spaces. He never spent much time here, but I suppose he has his own memories of the place.

We walk through the living room and kitchen, and he takes his time appraising the two bedrooms and glancing at the bathroom before we make it back to the front of the house without having spoken. Once again, he’s leaving the hard parts to me.

“Ross. Did you decide anything about the classes I sent you? I said I’d pay, and I’d figure out a way, but you’d need to stick it out and?—”

“Vee…” He lets out a heavy sigh, cursing under his breath. “I can’t even think about that right now, okay. I need to get myself out of this mess first.”

His thumb and index finger push into his eyes.

“Ross, I just think?—”

“No, Ivy.” He groans, tugging at his hair. He turns in a circle, and I feel a tight ball forming in my throat. Seeing him this unsettled twists my insides, and that tiny flicker of hope I’ve always nurtured begins to fade. Even though I desperately want that flame to survive this gust, I think Ross may have let in too much of the storm this time.

I never thought I could become so jaded and desensitized by his faults that I’d lose faith in him completely, but it’s like, the more I try to help him by feeding that little flame, the wider he cracks the doors open, ushering in the cold and refusing to change.

His hands finally fall to his sides, the desperation in his eyes makingmy heart ache.

You can’t lose it on him, Ivy. It’ll push him away.

Keep the lid on tight.

“I need alittlemore money. Anything you can give me will help. Or maybe something valuable?” His eyes scan the room, like he’s looking for expensive trinkets.

“Ross, I don’thaveany money to give you. I already gave you all my savings, which you haven’t repaid.”

“What about the work you’re doing on the house?” He waves a hand about. “How are you paying for that?”

“That money is Gran’s, and it’s earmarked for renovationsonly.” I frown while crossing my arms. I can feel the last of my confidence flickering as his accusatory eyes create more distance between us.

His gaze bounces around, like he’s trying to formulate a plan. As much as I want to help him, I literally can’t. And I hate that. I hate the look he gives me, wordlessly telling me I’ve let him down.

He begins pacing the room, pausing when those telltale stomps resonate from the porch. My heart beats faster as I hear the rattling of keys on the other side of the door, and then the handle turns.

“Seriously, Marsh. Unlocked again?” Ethan growls before swinging the door fully open.

He immediately straightens, a broody glower forming as he takes Ross in.

Ross ignores him and makes his way to the door. He pauses for a second on his way out, casting one last glance my way. “I’ll get your money, Ivy.”

“Ross—” I call as he squeezes past Ethan, but he disappears down the street. I have no idea what I’d have said if he stopped, anyway.Don’t do anything reckless? I’m sorry I can’t help you?In the back of my mind, there’s always that niggling thought—What if this is the last time I see him? What if, because I didn’t do anything, something terrible happens to him?

I flinch when Ethan places a gentle hand on my elbow. “You okay?” His soft voice breaks through.

I clear my throat, tightening that lid again. “Yup.”

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