by Max Monroe
Johnny and Ivy. Clenched in a tight embrace. They were acting out a scene where Grace and well, I, were alone in the station, their sexual attraction toward one another reaching a point where they could no longer deny it.
Basically, it was a fucking car crash before my very eyes, one I wanted to look away from but didn’t. If this wasn’t masochism, I didn’t know what was.
“I don’t know what to say,” Ivy said back, her voice soft and tender.
“Say you feel this too.” Johnny gazed down at her, his normally confident and cocky eyes laced with undisguised affection and a four-letter word I’d rather not say.
“I’m scared, Levi.” She swallowed, and her throat bobbed with emotion as she looked away, but his fingers were under her chin, guiding her gaze back to his.
“What are you scared of?”
“Of losing you,” she whispered back. “Of us starting this, and then it not working out. I can’t bear to lose you.”
“You will never lose me, Grace,” he said, his words ringing clear and true.
I shut my eyes for a moment. Memories, so many fucking memories, threatened to play behind my eyes, but I blinked them away. This was already hard enough; I didn’t need the ghost of my past filling my head too. My heart had limits, and this, watching Ivy and Johnny acting out an intimate scene together, was already taking a Herculean effort to handle.
On the inside, I felt like a caveman. Like a man watching as his lover, his whole heart, let herself be intimate with another man without any remorse about infidelity.
I had the urge to step onto that fucking set and drag Ivy straight off of it.
Which was insane and completely irrational.
She wasn’t mine.
But I couldn’t help it. The emotions Ivy spurred inside of me—the pain, the remorse, the guilt—I had to feel every day when I saw her were nearly too much to endure.
Though, I needed to endure it. Her anger and any other bad emotion she wanted to sling my way was my fair cross to bear. I’d made this mess. I’d hurt her badly, and my impulsive, thoughtless actions that’d caused her pain had consequences.
And more than that, she needed to see that I was suffering through everything she tossed my way. My words meant shit to her at this point, rightfully so, and Ivy deserved to witness my actions. No apology or excuse or explanation would fix what I’d broken or repair what I’d lost.
I had to show her.
And me, sitting on this set when I didn’t even need to be here, was step one.
“I’m yours, Grace,” Johnny said, his blue gaze shining with affection. “Can’t you see that?”
She didn’t say anything, but I didn’t miss the fact that her green eyes, albeit fleetingly, glanced toward where I stood off set. For the briefest of moments, Ivy’s gaze locked with mine, and without any hesitation, she looked back at Johnny just as he moved his lips to hers and kissed her deeply. So fucking deep it made my chest ache with the discomfort of watching it all go down.
Those perfect, rosebud lips should only be touching my lips, my mind whispered. And God, those soft little moans and whimpers should only be swallowed up by me.
Even though she was acting, and it wasn’t real, it hurt all the same.
And deep down, I knew Ivy wanted it that way.
She wanted me to feel the same pain that’d been tossed her way when she walked in on the sight that was her sister in my lap and her lips locked with mine.
“Cut!” Hugo Roman called from his director’s chair, but Johnny and Ivy didn’t stop right away; their kiss lingered for about five seconds longer than it needed to.
Eventually—a goddamn eternity later—they disentangled themselves and looked toward a smirking Hugo.
“The lighting is perfection, and what chemistry you two are giving me!” he exclaimed as he stood and clapped his hands together in three successive smacks. “I’m loving everything I’m seeing!”
Johnny smiled like the egotistical bastard he was and wrapped an arm around Ivy, pulling her into his side. “I’d love to take credit, but this beautiful and talented lady right here makes it too easy.”
Ivy laughed off his half-assed compliment, but her shoulders stiffened at the first inkling of his off-camera touch.
Hugo walked onto the set and chatted with both Johnny and Ivy for a few moments, and I was thankful for the reprieve from having to watch them lip-locked, with Johnny’s stupid hands all over her.
I fantasized about breaking those fucking hands of his. Finger by finger, I’d twist each knuckle back until it gave way with a satisfying snap.
It was morbid. And crazy. But it didn’t change the fact that I’d thought about it. On more than one occasion over the past week, to be honest.
The break ended before it really began, and Hugo was back in his director’s chair calling for another round of fucking misery.
Nausea clenched my gut. Fuck, I don’t know how much more I can take today.
“Action!” he shouted, and instantly, I had to look away.
I knew the script, and I knew that kiss would turn heated and, well, I just preferred not to see the rest. My heart couldn’t stand seeing Johnny Atkins’s lips all over Ivy’s neck, her shoulders, and even the soft swells of her breasts peeking out above her bra after he unbuttoned her uniform shirt and slid it down her shoulders.
I just…couldn’t watch it.
But when I turned on my heel to stare in the opposite direction of the set, the view wasn’t much better.
With a mane of red hair tossed up in a ponytail and green eyes that should be illegal, there stood Ivy’s reflection, her twin sister, Camilla.
Her shoulders looked stiff, and her arms were crossed over her chest. Her normally friendly gaze moved from the set, meeting mine, and her expression was everything but welcoming.
After the conversation we’d had where I’d declared my intentions, she’d softened slightly, but she was nowhere near my biggest fan.
A conversation with her today wouldn’t get me any closer to where I needed to be.
What I needed was sleep. Even though production had a day off tomorrow, I still had a patrol shift in the morning.
But I’d be back, and Ivy would be seeing me again.
Even on the days they didn’t need me and I was free from a patrol shift, I’d be on set.
I’d be here until the end.
After another twelve-hour day on set, re-runs of The Golden Girls provided a soundtrack to my thoughts while Camilla and I sat together on the small loveseat sofa. She watched and occasionally laughed, but I couldn’t process anything occurring on the flat screen.
My mind raced as I tried to analyze every-god-damn thing.
I’d thought after Camilla and I had talked in the car, I’d found some semblance of closure.
But when I’d seen her and Levi chatting beside the craft table, I hadn’t been able to stop the gushing geyser of emotions I’d yet to process.
That was a fucking week ago.
Between work and my sister and my asshole producer Boyce Williams and having to see fucking Levi Fox nearly every day, it’d been a long week.
I knew, lately, I hadn’t been the most enjoyable person to be around. I knew I’d been cold toward my sister. Short-tempered and quick to get bitchy and walking around in a constant state of annoyance.
But I couldn’t seem to find the off switch.
“You want to watch something else?” she asked, and I shrugged.
“I don’t care.” The words were frigid and disconnected, and the instant they left my mouth, I felt bad.
Silence spread over us like butter on bread, but once it melted into our pores, my sister couldn’t resist taking a bite and disrupting the calm.
“Don’t you think we should actually talk about what’s got a bug up your ass?” Camilla asked from her cozy spot on the couch. She had a pink afghan wrapped around her body like a burrito and her far-too-knowing eyes were one hundred percent locked on me.
Fu
cking hell. I knew it would come eventually, but it was the last thing I wanted to do. How was I supposed to talk about things I didn’t even really understand myself?
Such as, Levi fucking Fox and his cozy talks with my goddamn sister.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I insisted.
The sigh that escaped my lungs must have weighed one hundred pounds.
“Don’t be like that. You and I both know you’ve been icing me harder than fucking Montana winter.” My sister frowned and tapped her toe against my leg. “What did I do now? Is it the kiss? I honestly thought everything was fine after we talked last week in the car, but now, well, it doesn’t really feel like it. Do you still not forgive me?”
God, I didn’t want to think about that stupid fucking kiss.
“Cam, we’re good,” I deflected, unwilling to bring up the conversation she’d had with Levi without her bringing it up first. “Nothing could ever affect our relationship.”
“Are you sure about that?” She quirked a brow as if to say, I call bullshit, and I understood the reason. No doubt, I had been cold to her for the past week, despite truly believing her innocence. I knew she wouldn’t hurt me any more than I would hurt her. I just needed the ache in my heart to get the memo.
“Yes.” I nodded, more than certain my words were truth. No matter what was between us, we’d always be linked in a way that couldn’t be broken. “You’re my sister. My best friend. Nothing will ever change that, especially not some asshole guy.”
She stayed quiet for a moment, only the sounds of The Golden Girls talking about cheesecake filling up the space between us.
But her silence was brief, and I grimaced when she said, “I was the one who kissed him. I know he’s done a lot of shit, but that night he wasn’t the one to make the move. I was.”
I rolled my eyes. We’d already talked about all of this. She’d already explained the whole damn situation to me. “I know that, Cam.”
“I know you know. But it felt like you might need reminding.”
My attitude smarted at her obvious defense of the bastard. “I’ll bet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
She reached over and punched me right above the boob. “No, not nothing. What the fuck does that mean?”
I rubbed at the sore spot and seethed, finally getting to the point where I was done with this shit. Done with hiding what I knew and done with her holier-than-thou approach.
“God, I saw you with him, Cam! Last week at the fucking craft table!” I yelled. “I don’t know what he said to you, but you’re obviously on his side.”
Her eyes widened at the news but pretty quickly narrowed in offense. “What? No, I’m not! First of all, that conversation was him trying to apologize to me and own up to the fact that he was a giant fucking bag of shit to both of us. And secondly, I would never take his side over yours.”
“You seem really fucking pushy, then,” I argued.
“For you,” she emphasized. “Pushy for you to remember all the facts and not discount the possibility of something just because you’re stubborn. Pushy for you to really think everything through instead of basing all of your anger on one stupid fucking kiss!”
“It’s more than the kiss!”
Her voice was calm in a way I didn’t think I’d ever be again. “He did a lot of shit to you, Ivy. But you weren’t done with him. You weren’t over him. Until. That. Kiss.”
We’d only been at this conversation for all of five minutes, and already, exhaustion seeped into my pores and made my brain feel muddled and foggy.
Maybe I should’ve been more willing, maybe I shouldn’t have been so hell-bent on avoiding it all, but the wounds were still too fresh and oozing with the blood of my pain.
I knew it’d been nearly a month since I’d walked in on Camilla kissing Levi, but I just wasn’t ready to get into it again.
I felt confident Camilla and I had cleared the air the day it’d all gone down. I’d made sure she knew I wasn’t upset with her. Because, frankly, I’d had no right to be upset with her. I’d withheld any and all information about Levi, and he’d been a bastard and basically flirted her into kissing him.
And when it came to Levi Fox, I didn’t give a fuck about what he felt.
“I told you before…I’m done talking about this! Levi Fox is a fucking fuck who can go fuck himself!”
She wouldn’t give it up. “I know he was an asshole for making me think he was interested in me. I mean, seriously, I wouldn’t mind chopping his fucking balls off for the way he used me in his fucked-up little game, but I’m not so sure you should be solely mad at him for what happened. I kissed him, Ivy. I made the move. Not him.”
A softy to her core, my sister had a propensity for guilt that was frustrating. “Wake the fuck up and realize it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t your fault, and I don’t give one flipping iota about Levi Fox. It’s not gonna happen, so just drop it!”
I was breathing heavily and my point was effectively made, but Camilla was quiet. Her sensitivity was raw and real, and she always felt for everyone. Even the people she so very clearly shouldn’t.
I gently clasped her hand tighter until her green eyes lifted to mine. I smiled and nodded. “It’s in the past. You and me, we’re good, and that’s all that matters.”
“It sure doesn’t feel like it’s in the past,” she said and let go of my hand as she readjusted herself on the couch until she was more sitting up than lying down. “He’s been showing up on set every single day, even when he’s not needed.”
God, I needed a reprieve from this. A break from this conversation, from my sister’s guilt, from anything and everything related to Levi Fox. I feared if I kept thinking about all of it, my brain would spontaneous combust from the mere emotional overload it delivered.
“I think you need to understand that that conversation between Levi and me revolved around you,” she added, and her voice softened around the edges.
I appreciated her honesty, I really did, but I’d reached my breaking point when it came to conversations about Levi Fox.
“You know what I think?” I questioned with a raise of my brow, and Camilla squinted her eyes at my words.
“What do you think?”
I think I need a distraction.
“I think we need to get the fuck out of this house and have a fun night out,” I said and forced a soft smile to my otherwise sad lips. “We’ve got the day off tomorrow. Let’s take a load off, have some drinks, and enjoy ourselves.”
She stared at me, and I had to swallow against the discomfort from the concern in her eyes. “You really want to go out?” she asked and glanced at the clock on the cable box sitting on top of the television. “It’s ten thirty. We’ve been up since five this morning.”
“So?”
“So, I think it’s safe to say I’ll be asleep before we even get in the car.”
When it came to nocturnal clocks, my sister and I were in completely different time zones. Her eyes always grew heavy with slumber by ten, whereas my body could easily catch a second wind.
She’d always be the morning bird who’d catch the worm, while I’d still be in bed, hoping to God she managed to snag an extra snack for me.
“You don’t want to go out?” I asked, and she shook her head, pointing an accusatory index finger in my direction.
“No,” she added with an amused smile. “And no amount of puppy-dog eyes or pouty lips will get me to change my mind.”
Fuck, I really thought that would’ve worked.
“Aw, c’mon, Cam,” I exclaimed on a groan. “Just one drink.”
She shook her head, determined. “Nope. I’m keeping my ass right here while Sophia slings sarcastic insults toward Blanche Deveraux.”
I knew if I stayed on the couch, inside this house, my sister would keep trying to talk about all of the things I very much couldn’t handle talking about.
I was still processi
ng. Still trying to figure out why in the fuck, after everything that had gone down, after the way he’d been so thoughtless and cruel, I still couldn’t get Levi Fox off my mind.
I just wanted him gone. Out of my head and out of my life.
Out of my fucking traitorous heart.
All of a sudden, the walls of the house felt smaller, and each inhale through my lungs was tight and difficult.
Yeah, I needed to get out of this house before all of the emotions I was trying to keep tightly contained slipped out of their box and crashed down on me all at once.
“Okay, well,” I said as I stood, tossing the remote onto the coffee table. “I’m going to head down to Ruby Jane’s for a bit.”
“Seriously?” Camilla’s eyes widened, and I nodded. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, Ivy?”
Pretty sure it was the only good idea I’d had since I’d driven into this fucking icy tundra.
“Yep,” I answered and padded across the hardwood floor toward the hallway. “I promise I’ll be fine,” I called over my shoulder. “I’ll just have a drink, chat up the bartender for a bit, and come home.”
“Only one drink?” Camilla’s voice filled my ears once I reached the bedroom.
“Yes. Only one drink, Mom. Promise.”
Famous last words? Probably.
But did I care? Definitely not. I just needed to get out of the house before all the fucking walls crashed in on me.
“W-what time is it, Louie Louie?” I asked the bartender as I attempted to hop back onto my barstool gracefully and down another beer. My movements weren’t as graceful as I’d hoped they’d be, but who the fuck cared, right?
At least my ass was on the seat, and I could enjoy more of this delicious beer.
I think it was a special kind of beer. Probably some rare alcoholic delicacy only found in Cold, Montana.
“It’s a little after one,” he said, and I pushed my lips out into a pout and nodded toward my now empty beer.
“Another, please?” I asked, and he shook his head.
“Can’t do that, Ms. Ivy.”
“What?” I questioned and rested my elbows on top of the bar. “You outta of this kind or somethin’?”