Page 42 of The Sexy Ex's Brother
Leaning against the wall, I exhale slowly and try to force some logic into my spiraling thoughts. Ivy wouldn’t vanish without telling me. Not unless something, or someone, made her feel like she had no choice. Only one name comes to mind.
Derek.
I push off the wall and start typing a text to Leo:Call in the favor. I want everything Derek’s touched in the last forty-eight hours. Legal. Personal. Off-record. I don’t care. Get me names.
As I walk to my apartment, I open another thread. This one to someone I haven’t called in years.
Jack:Ari. I need eyes in Manhattan. Discreet. Track movement off the grid, no cell, no cards, no license plate reads. Are you in?
Ari had done work for me before. Things I wasn’t supposed to need anymore. Things I promised Ivy I didn’t touch.
Ari:Fuck. You must be desperate. Send me what you’ve got.
I hesitate for half a second before sharing a screenshot, an address Derek was seen entering, a timestamp, and Ivy’s last known location. I add one word beneath it.
Jack:Priority.
By the time I step into my apartment, the city has swallowed the last of the light. The apartment is dark. This place once felt like a stronghold. Now it feels like a cage.
I toss my keys to the marble counter and start pacing. Jacket off. Shirt clinging to my back. I pull at the collar, trying to breathe, but the air feels thin.
I walk to the bar and pour two fingers of bourbon. I don’t bother savoring it. The glass is empty before it touches the counter again.
My phone buzzes.
Leo:You were right to worry. Derek’s been meeting with someone. Private apartment. No digital trail.
The words land hard. If Derek is cornering her, threatening her, if he made her believe this was her only choice, I’ll tear every piece of his life apart until he bleeds truth.
I think about calling again, but I already know how it ends, just the line ringing into nothing. She’s not picking up. Whether it’s fear or something worse, I don’t know. I tell myself to give her space. Still, the silence is unbearable.
I send a text instead:Are you okay? I need to see you.
No response.
I pace again, faster now. My shoulder knocks against the edge of the hallway wall, but I barely feel it. I drag a hand through my hair, down the back of my neck, willing her to answer. Just one word. Just something.
That’s when I see it, a flash of white on the floor near the door. I crouch to pick it up, a folded note. My name is written across the front in her handwriting. I open it and read it. The words hit with more force than anything Derek could ever throw at me. I stumble backward and drop into the nearest chair, elbows on my knees, the letter shaking in my hands. My throat tightens. A sound rises in my chest but never escapes. My fingers press to my temple, as if I could push the ache out, as if grief could be reasoned with.
She left. Not because she stopped wanting me, but because she believes disappearing is the only way to protect what we’ve started. She still thinks she has to carry it all alone. Even now, when she’s not.
I close my eyes, and a memory hits hard: her bare feet on the hardwood, laughing quietly at something I mumbled into her neck. The morning sun catching the edge of her smile. Her hand brushing crumbs from the counter while I tried to convince her to stay a little longer. Maybe she hoped I’d let her go. That I’d take the hint. That this letter would be enough. She miscalculated.
I get back up, slowly. Every movement feels heavier than it should. I walk to the window, the note still in my hand. The city outside is unchanged, indifferent, relentless. Lights blink like nothing’s been lost.
I press my palm flat to the glass, forehead resting there for a beat, the paper crushed lightly in my fist. “Ivy,” I whisper, her name a vow and a threat to the silence around me. “You don’t get to disappear alone.”
The bourbon glass sits untouched behind me. I don’t need another drink. I need a plan. She doesn’t know what I’m capable of when there’s nothing left to lose. But she’s about to.
I reach for my phone again and type with steady fingers.
Jack:Find her. I don’t care how clean it looks. Burn the trail if you have to. Just find her.
This story doesn’t end with a note and an empty apartment. She told me she loves me. And I will not let her disappear into the dark believing I’ll ever stop fighting to bring her back. Not when I finally have something worth losing.
23
IVY
