Page 43 of Every Single Wildflower
“Poor baby.” Dakota leans her head on his shoulder and slaps his thigh. “But thanks for defending my honor, Mayson. I’d punch a bitch for you too.”
The cab grows silent, and I try to hang onto the lighter mood, but I catch Maddox’s eyes in the rearview. Our conversation was interrupted, and I was kicking myself for letting my truths reveal themselves.
Why? Because he wasn’t you?
Why? Because I held onto my virginity for you?
I could tell by the look on his face, he was in shock. Which means that conversation is far from over.
We drop Laiken off at Millie’s. Twenty minutes later we’re pulling up to the ranch. When we disperse from the vehicle,Dakota helps Cooper up the stairs to the loft, while I briskly walk down the path to Maddox’s cabin. I want to crawl under the covers and hide. Pray he doesn’t prod into anything further regarding his brother or what happed between us.
It’s in the past. We’ve moved on.
Now you’re lying to yourself, Ivy.
I make it to my room, shutting the door behind me as I lean back, sagging in relief. My head thuds against the wood as I wait to hear his footsteps. I’m filled with relief, but also a hint of disappointment when I hear him enter into his room and close the door.
I can’t sleep. I’ve tossed and turned for hours, and the clock only reads three forty-seven in the morning when I glance at my phone. I groan, my hand gliding through my ratted hair before I drop it lazily back to the mattress. Climbing out of bed, I toss back the covers and creep across the room. I crack the door, listening for any sign of life before I tiptoe to the kitchen. As a kid, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d wake up in the middle of the night, grab a spoon and eat ice cream straight from the container. Somehow, dad always knew when I was up, and he would join me. It didn’t matter what time of night.
With my strawberry pint in my hand, I gently open the drawer to grab a spoon. When the first bite of sweet bliss hits my tongue, I close my eyes. But they fly open when I hear that raspy voice from behind me.
“Why?”
Chapter thirty-two
Maddox
Four Years Ago
I sit on the edge of the bed, disgust and guilt running its way through my veins. Emily scowls as she emerges from my bathroom.
“I got to shower.” I push to my feet. “You can see yourself out.”
I spent the entire fucking day watching Ivy at the trail ride. The entire day remembering what she felt like when I held her in my arms. I spent the entire day trying not to torture myself over something I can never have, when Emily appeared. It was a vast decision. One I hoped would rid my mind of everything Ivy Mayson. But that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t the case whenEmily’s mouth was on mine. It wasn’t Emily’s hair I fisted trying to chase a feeling that wasn’t coming. It wasn’t Emily’s face I pictured when a hand landed over my jeans on my half limp dick. No, I saw golden hair and pouty plush lips with eyes so emerald you get lost. I couldn’t do it, because she wasn’t my Ivy.
I slam my bathroom door then take a quick shower, hoping Emily read the room and got the fuck out. I was an asshole for even making her part of my scheme. She didn’t deserve that, and I knew it. Scrubbing a hand down my face, I wrap the towel around my waist and step back out into the living room when I spot Emily standing at my open door in nothing but my fucking t-shirt. Before I can ask why she thinks she has a right to wear my clothes, she edges open the door further, revealing a tear stained Ivy standing in the frame.
My gut sinks.
“If you’re looking for Brady he’s not here.” Emily says as she twirls a piece of her hair between her fingers.
“Oh, I wasn’t.” Ivy’s eyes meet mine, and the pain is damn near tangible.
She’s upset and here I am half naked…with Emily in my shirt.
Motherfucker.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Ivy turns while I quickly snatch up my jeans and shove my legs into them, before padding to the door barefoot.
“Where are you going?” Emily crosses her arms.
“Checking on Ivy. Make sure my brother is ok.” It’s a lie, but it rolls off my lips so smooth. “Take that off. We’re done here.” I say as I brush past her and down the stairs.
I hear her mutter something along the lines of “dickhead”, but I ignore it, rushing to catch Ivy as she enters the barn. My long strides catch up to her, and I latch onto her elbow when she’s made it past the second stall.
“Hey. You alright?”
Her brows furrow as she spins around and yanks out of my grip.
