Page 10 of Relentless (The Titans of Founder's Ridge 2)

“You guys are obscenely wealthy, aren’t you?” I say as I trail my fingers over the hood of a Ferrari.

“My family owns Marsh Bank and Finance so, yeah, lots of money.” He looks around the garage. “I bet he’ll take the Rover,” he says as he plucks a set of keys from an electronically locked cabinet. He rattles off the code, so I know it in case I need to use a car.

“What can I drive?” Half these cars are too nice to even look at.

“My G Wagon, the Range Rover, the Tesla, either of the Mercedes.”

“Yes, feel free to use any of those,” Frank says as he and Mom join us. “We can also buy you something if you would rather have your own vehicle.”

“Oh, I have one. It’s at Dad’s house in Connecticut. I’m going to drive it home after my weekend visit with him in a couple weeks. Thank you, though.”

Levi opens the back door for me, and I slide in while Frank does the same for Mom. Frank tells us we’re going to the French bistro in Founder’s Ridge. He and Levi talk about football for a few minutes of the drive. Then he brings the conversation around to school.

“Ivy, do you know where you want to apply to for college?” Frank’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.

“Yale or Princeton probably. They’ve both offered scholarships.”

“You already have scholarship offers before your junior year of high school even starts?” He sounds surprised. It shouldn’t annoy me that he has no clue how good I am, but it does. Did he even know I existed before they were married?

“Dad, Ives is a beast in the pool,” Levi says as he moves his hand beside mine on the seat between us. His pinky curls over mine.

“How would you know that?” Mom sounds annoyed by Levi’s praise.

“We met five years ago at Foster’s,” Levi answers.

“That’s crazy.” Frank’s face looks surprised, but my mom turns away so I can’t see her reaction. She’s probably scowling or something. “Wait, are you the girl he wrote letters to?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” my cheeks heat. “Until he ghosted me at the start of high school.” I pull my hand away from Levi’s, ignoring the glimpse of hurt I see in his eyes.

Luckily, we pull up to the valet, so the potential awkwardness of the moment passes. I fall in behind Frank and Mom and Levi walks behind me. We’re seated at a table on the shaded patio.

Levi maneuvers the conversation to avoid any more questions that could create tension. Dinner goes relatively smoothly aside from Mom making underhanded comments about what I ordered and how I should dress for school. She’s careful not to come at me full force like she would if we were alone, but the comments cut regardless.

Levi follows me into my room when we get back.

“We need to talk,” he says closing the door behind him.

4

LEVI

We stareeach other down for a minute. Feelings of hurt and distrust swirl between us, filling the room with a heavy vibe. She really thinks I ghosted her. I can see it all over her gorgeous face. Her gray eyes that used to sparkle when they were trained on me are dull and unimpressed now. Her glossy, pink lips are turned down at the corner. She straightened her hair today, and she’s pulled it over one shoulder. I prefer her natural curls.

“You going to start talking or just stare at me?” Ivy pops her hip out and crosses her arms.

“I like staring at you,” I take a few steps toward her. I was hoping for a smile or maybe even a giggle, but she’s giving me nothing. “I swear I sent you a letter as soon as I got home from camp that summer. Why didn’t we ever trade numbers?”

“We didn’t have phones at Foster’s, and I was only allowed to have my cell phone on weekends at boarding school. Trading emails would have been a better idea. Ultimately that doesn’t matter now.” She walks into her closet, and I follow. “My address never changed. It doesn’t make any sense that your letters would have stopped.” She takes her earrings out and puts them on a weird tree-looking thing.

“I wish I had a way to prove it.” She doesn’t say anything, just gives some side eye. “Seriously,” I wrap my hand around her bicep, “that last night was special.”

She snorts derisively.

I drop my hand from her arm, annoyed that she is so closed off to this conversation. “You know, how do I knowyoudidn’t ghostme?”

Her eyes narrow and harden. She seems to be silently debating something with herself. Then she takes off and walks into the bedroom toward her desk. She yanks open the bottom drawer and pulls out a box that she carries to the bed. She unceremoniously dumps the contents onto her bed.

I walk over to the bed and see all the letters I ever wrote her, prior to that last summer.

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