Page 20 of Every Single Wildflower
Her eyes meet mine, and a flash of empathy crosses them.
She knows.
“Okay. I won’t be long.” She disappears inside the room, while I disperse to a corner chair in the waiting area, trying to forget what my dad looked like laying in that same bed.
The second we get back to the cabin, Ivy heads straight to the spare bedroom. I hear some rustling before she emerges with two bags and a laptop.
“Ivy.” I hold out my hands. “It’s almost eleven. Just stay here.”
“I appreciate the offer. But no thanks.” She hikes one of the bags up. “I would rather stay with Cooper.”
It shouldn’t sting, but it does. Before she left Mayson Ridge there was a lot of unspoken words. Apologies that needed to be made on my part, but I never got the chance. I never got the chance to tell her I fucked up, so I took it as a sign. Me and her….it just creates more problems than solutions. It effects more than just the two of us and if I’ve learned anything since my dad left this earth, it’s not to be selfish. I can’t be selfish, even though I want to. So damn bad.
“Ok.” I move closer, reaching for her bags.
“I got it.” She turns away.
“Ivy, there aren’t any lights on the path to the barn. It’s dark. It’s summer and we have rattle snakes. Let me walk you and carry your bags.”
She stares at me a moment before finally letting out a surrendering breath. “Fine.”
I take both bags, opening the door and giving her enough space to walk through before snatching a flashlight by the door. Shining the light ahead, I watch her move, careful not to shine where she can’t see.
“Be careful by this fence...” I begin.
But she interrupts by tossing her hands up. “I’ve lived here my entire life, Maddox. I think I know the way to the barn.”
“Ivy.” As soon as the word leaves my mouth, she stumbles, her flimsy shoe catching on a loose rock.
“Damn it,” she hisses as her hands clench at her ankle.
The bags meet the dirt, and I’m crouched down in front of her before she can protest.
“Let me see.”
“I’m fine," she hisses as she drops to her butt.
“Goldie,” I say calmly.
She freezes, her eyes slowly drifting up to mine.
“Please let me see it?” I ask, my hand brushing along her calf.
Her breath hitches, but she masks her reaction, blinking her eyes. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
My palm wraps around where her hand is placed, and she winces. “You’re a terrible liar. Have been since you were a kid.”
She scoffs. “I am not. Remember when I got in trouble for stealing dad’s gin?” She lifts a blonde eyebrow.
“Yeah. You got your ass ripped for two weeks about that.” I can’t help but grin at the memory.
“Well guess who fibbed?” She leans back on her palms, the movement hiking her dress up her thigh. I swallow, trying to avoid the smooth flesh.
“Me. It was actually Dakota, but I didn’t want her to get in trouble. She sold the bottle to some old man in the trailer park so she would have lunch money for the week.”
There’s that golden heart.
“I never even told her that I got in trouble,” she whispers next.
