Page 134 of Playing for Keeps
I nod and press a kiss to her head before reaching for my phone on the nightstand. Finding his number, I hit dial and bring the phone to my ear. It rings for a second before he answers.
“Hey, Wyatt.”
“Hey, Nash. Are you working tonight?”
"No, I’m on the day shift tomorrow. Why? What’s up?”
I spend the next few minutes catching him up on everything that’s happened tonight, and when I’m done, he blows out a breath.
“Jesus, Wyatt. How’s Ivy?”
I look at Ivy, who’s watching me intently, and smile sadly. “Upset.”
Ivy reaches across and tangles her fingers with mine. She lifts our joined hands to her mouth and presses a soft kiss on the back of my hand. I smile.
“Can you run this woman’s details through the police database in the morning, see if it pulls anything up?”
“Sure. Send me over what you’ve got on her, and I’ll see what I can find.”
“Thanks, Nash. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I end the call with Nash, fire off a quick message with all I know about Cara Livingstone and toss my phone on the bed.
“He’s going to look into her tomorrow for us.” I trail off. “God, I hope he finds something and we can out her for the fraud she is.”
Ivy presses herself closer into my side. “I hope so too, Wy.” She sighs. “I guess I won’t be coming to watch you train again tomorrow.”
I look down at her, my heart splintering, hearing the disappointment in her voice.
“It’s up to you, baby. I’d like you to be there. The family section is just players’ families, so no one’s going to give you a hard time.”
“Maybe I’ll wait and see what the backlash is like in the morning,” she says.
I pull her closer and press a kiss to the top of her head. God, I hope Cleo’s statement does what we need it to. Ivy keeps saying she’s fine, but I can see the worry behind her eyes, the uncertainty about what comes next. I’d give anything to take that fear away, but right now, I don’t know how.
As light filters through the blinds, it feels like I’ve been awake all night. I glance down at Ivy curled against my chest, her breathing steady and her eyes closed. I know it took her a while to settle, but I’m relieved she finally managed to get some sleep.
I carefully shift Ivy off my chest and slip out of bed without waking her. Grabbing my phone, I head to the kitchen. Even though it’s on silent, the flood of notifications tells me everything I need to know. The story and the statement are out.
I flick on the coffee machine and settle at the breakfast bar, taking a deep breath before unlocking my screen. One of the notifications opens straight into chaos. Photos of me and Ivy are everywhere. Shots from the charity dinner have resurfaced, along with a few of Ivy from yesterday’s training session. She probably thought she’d gone unnoticed, but someone is always watching, always ready with a camera, even when you wish they weren’t.
As I scroll through, I feel a flicker of relief. Public opinion seems divided. Some people are already calling the marriage story bullshit.
But when I exit social media and search Ivy’s name directly, needing to know what’s really out there, I instantly regret it. The first headline hits me like a punch in the gut.
Everything We Know About Wyatt Brookes’ Mistress, Ivy James.
I clench my jaw, rage simmering just beneath the surface. As I read further, it boils over. They’re not just going after Ivy, they’re dragging her character through the dirt, bringingher parents into it, even questioning her business. One line suggests,“Who would trust someone like her to sell them a home, ethically speaking, when she’s involved in wrecking a marriage?”
It’s absolute horseshit. And I know the second she sees it, it’s going to devastate her.
Despite it being early, I pull up Ashlyn’s number and fire off a message. She’s probably still asleep, but at least she’ll see it as soon as she wakes.
Me: Hey, Ash. Something’s happened and Ivy’s going to need you today. The only thing out there that’s actually true is my statement. I’ve got training this afternoon, and I can’t miss it. I have to leave around twelve and won’t be back until four. Can you call or FaceTime her while I’m out? I just don’t want her stuck here alone, spiraling.
I set the phone down on the counter and head for the coffee machine. Ivy needs sleep. Not just because she’s exhausted, but because as long as she’s asleep, she’s not online reading any of the hate. Once I’ve poured my coffee, I grab my phone and move into the living room. Just as I sink onto the sofa, Ash’s name lights up the screen.
