Page 95 of Unravel Me

I gently stroke her hair and watch her sleep, my beautiful, perfect butterfly. My heart aches painfully as I look over her face, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep, the thin, gold chain of her lion necklace resting around her collarbone. I put it back on her while she was sleeping, hopefully giving her the reminder she needs that she can face anything and come out on top.

I pull out my phone to update my family, not bothering to read the dozens of missed texts and phone calls.

Me: She’s resting. Doctor said she’ll be discharged once she wakes up.

Liam: What can we do? What do you need?

Dallas: Let us know once you’re home and settled

Carter: Glad she’s going to be okay

Kins: Thank fuck. How is she?

Me: She’s going to be okay physically. Time will tell about the rest.

Me: I don’t know what to fucking do. I’ve never felt like this before. What if this fucked her up so bad she runs? I won’t fucking survive it.

Carter: You sure as shit don’t lay down and wallow. You two are meant to be together. I see that now. So get your shit together and be there for her. She won’t run so don’t even go there.

Liam: Wow. Was not expecting that from him

Dallas: Yeah. Damn man. Where you been hiding?

Kins: Carter’s right. Don’t go there. You two will get through this. She’s not going to leave you. She’s going to need you so buck up

Liam: I’ll text Mom and Dad and update them. You've got this.

I wipe a stray tear from my eye and look over at Reid, who’s lying sprawled out on the tiny couch in her room. Once the ambulance arrived, they checked out Ivy and put her on a stretcher to transport her to the hospital. Reid stayed and handled the police. Once we got Ivy into her own room, Reid showed up. He patted me on the back, looked Ivy over, and then laid down on the couch and closed his eyes, essentially giving us privacy without giving us privacy. He wakes, sits up, and looks me over, taking in my shitty appearance and the agony that’s written all over my face.

“He’s dead. You didn’t kill him. Just move on and take care of her. Got it?”

I don’t ask for further explanation. None is needed. I know him and I get it. If the tables were turned and I had his history, I’d have done the same thing.

We are discharged shortly after Ivy wakes up. Reid walks with us into the parking garage and it occurs to me I don’t know how the hell I’m getting her home.

“Here.” Reid holds out the keys to my truck. “Your brothers.” I reach out and take the keys from him. We stand in front of his motorcycle and my truck and I don’t know what to say.

“Thank you doesn’t seem like a strong enough thing to say. But it’s all I can come up with right now. I’ll never forget it.”

“Just like I’ve never forgotten the shit you’ve gotten me out of. It’s what brothers do,” he says. I lean in and we give each other a big hug, then he turns to face Ivy.

“Thanks, Drogo. For all of it. Just, thank you for being there.” He glances at me and I know he’s silently asking for my permission, as if I have any worry about his loyalty to me, and feeling like an ass for ever questioning it. I give him a nod anyway and he takes a step forward to pull my girl into a big hug. She returns it, and instead of jealousy, I just feel fucking grateful. Grateful she’s got people who love her, that she’s alive, and safe, and grateful that now, she’s finally free.

We part ways with Reid and I drive us home with Ivy in the middle, resting her head on my shoulder, the stick shift between her spread legs. I told her she’d be uncomfortable, but she said she just needed to be close to me. I get us home and park out front, pulling her out of the truck and setting her on her feet. Clasping her hand in mine, we walk together into the house, the smell of warm apples and cinnamon immediately assaulting my nose.

“Mmm. Muffins,” she says as she releases my hand and walks through the entryway and into the kitchen. There she finds a tray filled with warm apple cinnamon muffins, a case of Elysian Bifrost, and bouquets of flowers on almost every surface of the living space.

“Who did all of this?” she asks me.

“Fuck if I know,” I answer honestly.

She walks to each bouquet and pulls off the cards, reading them aloud as she goes.

“Dallas. Hannah, Charlie, and Ms. Nettie. Your parents. Kinsey. Luna. Barrel House family. Carter. Liam. Dom. Zoe . . . Zoe’s says, ‘The only reason I’m not there is because Dallas assured me you were okay and that you just needed sleep, but if you don’t call me within twenty-four hours, I’m showing up.’” She laughs before looking around at all the flowers and then down at her little pile of cards. “Sawyer. This. I don’t. Wow.” I laugh at her lack of ability to form a complete thought.

“I told you you were loved, baby. Believe me now?”

“I guess I have to.”

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