Page 166 of Burning Ivy (The KORT)

Ty’s demons are stashed away so deep behind his sweetness; I fear, one day, they’ll come roaring to life with a vengeance, but I don’t share that.

Instead, I keep it vague. “None of us are unscathed. It’s the scars that bind us.”

Celeste’s shoulders pull back rigidly in some sort of resolution. “I can’t promise I’ll continue my civility with him. He rankles me.”

Great. Still stuck on Liam.

“Go for it. Serve him up all the sass you’ve got.” I grin. “There’s nothing you can throw at Liam Graves that he can’t volley. That’s the best part about him.”

“Good,” she says, pouring herself another drink—three parts vodka, one part lemonade. “I’ll stop holding back.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” I balk, suddenly sickened by the idea of them hating each other. “Don’t be cruel. You can school him if he’s a dick, but don’t be needlessly mean. And it’s best if you steer clear of jabs that involve the guys or me. Liam is fiercely loyal.Fucking with his inner circle will give him a raging hard-on full of venom.”

She doesn’t respond, probably sensing my panic. Both girls are quiet, busy chugging their drinks and snacking on munchies. It gives my mind the space to roam, ruminating on how they’re my family, too, and I don’t want to hide this baby from them. This child needs a village. I haven’t been able to tell my mom yet either. It’s important I do that in person, and she won’t be here until next week because she organizes a Fourth of July community event. It was also a relief for her to avoid Daniel, who she knew would be here too. She’s not quite ready to socialize with him, still swarming with mixed feelings about his presence in my life.

Wells won’t let me tell Daniel for obvious reasons involving KORT and an extended O’Reilly family we don’t fully trust. Daniel took custody of his niece and nephews, though, which solidified the bond forming between us. They visit us every Tuesday afternoon. Daniel meets with Ty and me to help us navigate the ins and outs of KORT business, and then we all eat dinner and swim with the kids. It’s been good, but right now, I need to squeal with the girls who ground me.

Swatting away the apprehension over Celeste and Liam sparring, I linger on the vow Celeste and I have always exchanged.If you’re going nowhere, I’m coming with you.This life and this baby certainly aren’t a representation of going nowhere—quite the opposite—but Celeste and I will be travel companions, no matter what life throws at us. My gut says the same is true of Rena.

I smile a megawatt grin and lean in close. “Moving on, girlies. I have a secret.”

After they both swear not to breathe a word, I unveil my news, which reduces us all to sloppy tears. I sense Wells lingering near us before I see him. He creeps in, shooting me an admonishing glower, but it diminishes when my wet eyes meet his.

I needed this.

Swooping in once our joyful sobbing morphs to quiet laughter,he flicks his eyes to Rena, who is familiar with silent orders from domineering men. She promptly carts Celeste away under the guise of letting her flirt with her brother Cash.

Wells dusts his thumb over my cheekbone, catching the jubilant stains of grateful sorrow—this baby will be woven with a spectrum of colors and shadows and emotions. His conflict is clear by the worrying divot between his eyes. “We agreed not to tell anyone yet. I need time to assess what we’ll be dealing with. It’s not safe, Ivanna.”

“And it never will be,” I counter as another tear spills—this one full of anger for the secrets and threats and hiding. For the losses and the inability to simply bask in the gains. “It’s Celeste and Rena, for God’s sake. There’s no danger there.”

He barks a morose chuckle, laced with some thread of doubt. “There’s dangereverywhere, Ives,even with your girlfriends.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’m not doing this with you right now. I won’t shut them out.” At his leer, I huff. “I heard a firework. We should get out there.”

He coils around me until I’m enveloped in a cocoon composed of pulsing biceps, chiseled pecs, wandering hands, ragged breaths, and tandem heartbeats. “I know you need them, but I won’t apologize for protecting you and our baby. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

My lips move against the sticky skin on his neck, effusing sugar and his manly cologne—leather, citrus, and spice. But no scotch. Breathing him in, I think maybe releasing his ban on drinking would be preferable. Expensive scotch is so Wells.

“I’m not asking you to apologize,” I whisper. “But you have to let me love the people closest to me even if they’re outside of this house. Otherwise, it’s not really living. Not really celebrating.”

A colorless existence, void of dandelion dreams.

Pressing his lips to mine, he extends a tentative answer, cushioning his disapproval with delicate caresses of his tongue. That’s how Wells apologizes. “We’ll talk about this later.” A gentle nip on my lower lip. “I love you, Ivy.”

My eyes latch on to his—emeralds that still make my stomachflutter with a thousand butterfly kisses. A gaze that holds me hostage to a world of shooting-star possibilities.

“I love you, Wells. Thank you for protecting us, and thank you for this beautiful family.”

We mosey outside as vibrant sparkles of red, white, and blue reach their fingers into the inky sky with startling shrieks and rumbles. But my eyes crawl over the gathering of spirits. Some would awe at the supreme authority looming in one space. Others would recognize it for the terrifying anarchy it is. But all I see are souls that are mine.

Gritty and unfaltering.My sticky grains of sand.

I went from a family of three who hid among the masses to a family of more than a dozen who rules over the shadows.

We curl up in a chair the guys left open for us—Liam and Gage on one side, Ty on the other. I wrap my arm around Wells’s neck, my cheek gliding against his bristly scruff as we gape at the show. The pond reflects every romping explosion of patriotic color as a thunderous symphony of Wells’s favorite composers conducts the performance.

“Do you think Balzano was right?” I ask him.

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