Page 82 of Riot

I want to smash Jackson’s teeth into his stomach for upsetting Ivy. That note buried among the stems twists my insides into a knot. The thought of anyone making her feel uncomfortable or hurting her has red filming my vision.

I stand, snatching up the vase.

He doesn’t know the first fucking thing about Ivy, about what she likes, what she needs. He has no idea about the awful movies she loves to watch, or the fact she has a favourite pair of fluffy socks. He doesn’t know that her hair always smells like strawberries because of the shampoo she uses. He wasn’t there during those long, sleepless nights after Seren was born. He doesn’t know that Ivy still believes in fairytale love despite the hell she suffered.

And he doesn’t know how she rebuilt herself, piece by piece, after her shitty ex tortured her.

So, no, he doesn’t get to send fucking flowers and dinner invites.

I step on the peddle of the kitchen bin with enough force that it wobbles and toss the entire bouquet into it.

Fucking prick.

He can never give Ivy and Seren what they need. I’ll never allow him to try, either.

I slip the empty vase onto the kitchen counter and use the main bathroom down the hall before I head back to the couch to finish getting ready.

Once I’ve gathered my shit, I step into the kitchen.

I expect to see Ivy at the counter, but it’s Maylie who turns and gives me a smile, and fuck, the bite of guilt I feel is unexpected.

I don’t feel bad for claiming Ivy, but I do feel bad for doing it under May’s nose.

“Good morning.”

Maylie won’t care that I kissed her sister. She’ll only want what makes Ivy happy.

And you think that’s you?

It ain’t, but fuck, it’s gonna be.

“Mornin’,” I say as I walk over to the kettle. “How are you feelin’?”

“A little better today. I only spent fifteen minutes throwing my guts up as opposed to half an hour,” she says with a tired smile.

“Ain’t there something that can be done?”

“I don’t think so. My midwife doesn’t seem too worried, so I’m not either. It’s your brother who’s freaking out. Maybe you could try talking to him?”

I snort. “You think he’d listen? Look, if my girl was pregnant and pukin’ nonstop, I’d be freakin’ out too.”

I’d tear the hospital apart until someone did something.

“It’s not nonstop.” Maylie’s defensive tone snaps me out of my thoughts. “It is pretty rough, though.” She leans back againstthe counter, her shoulders sagging. “Don’t tell Mace I said that. He’s already worried enough, and I don’t want our baby to be an only child.”

I raise my brow at her. “If you think he’s ever gonna let you do this again, you’re out of your fuckin’ mind.” I finish making my coffee, not bothering to offer any to Maylie.

Coffee triggers her projectile vomiting.

“He doesn’t get to make that decision on his own. I know exactly what I can handle, and as unpleasant as this is, it will end. In just a few months’ time, we’ll have a baby and all this terrible sickness and tiredness will be a distant memory.”

“Yeah, and then you’ll have a newborn and no sleep for the next ten years.”

“Pregnancy tired is completely different to newborn tiredness.” Ivy’s sweet voice has my head snapping in her direction.

Her hair is damp, hanging around her shoulders, and Seren is wrapped in a towel that covers her head, like an adorable little gremlin.

Our eyes lock from across the room, and I’m sure mine are blazing with heat.

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