by Jane Porter
It was weird. More than weird.
New phone number, no Snapchat, and nothing in over four months on Instagram. It was as if Ivy wanted to go off the grid… disappear. The lead weight in his gut grew bigger, colder. What was going on?
*
Ivy stood at the window of the room she was renting from Joan, looking out at the sky. It was snowing hard, flurries of white, and it had been coming down since the early hours of the morning, piling up on the fence, and covering Joan’s black Toyota, with the perpetual flat tire, in white.
The snow was beautiful and she felt happy. She loved fresh snow, and she was going to be having lunch out today—with Sam Wyatt no less.
Maybe that was why her heart was humming and she felt restless and eager to be out. She needed to move, walk, work some of this adrenaline through her. She shouldn’t be so excited about lunch. And she most definitely shouldn’t feel… giddy.
Glancing at her phone she saw she still had hours before lunch. She needed to remain productive and keep her laundry going.
Ivy headed out the kitchen door to the detached garage where the washer and dryer were.
The washing machine was still going but almost at the end of the cycle. She checked the load in the dryer, and everything there was almost done, too.
Ivy crossed her arms over her chest, keeping warm while she waited. She was lost in thought when she got a whiff of smoke. Glancing up, Ivy spotted Joan in the doorway, a cigarette between her lips.
“Am I holding you up?” Ivy asked.
Joan shook her head, and taking the cigarette from her mouth, exhaled a stream of smoke. “You had a call last night, from a fellow named Weston.”
Ivy stiffened, skin prickling. “Weston?”
“That’s what I thought he said when he asked for you.”
An icy shiver coursed through her. Ivy suddenly felt light-headed. “Did he say anything else?”
Joan took a drag on her cigarette, before blowing out a perfect smoke ring. “Wanted to know where you were working.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No. I figured you could do that. He’s calling back in a couple hours. Wanted me to be sure to let you know. So now you know.”
Joan returned to the house and Ivy remained in the small icy garage, chilled all the way through.
She’d known he’d find her one day.
She’d just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon.
Ivy’s phone buzzed and panic flooded her even as she reluctantly reached for the phone in her back pocket. She let out a shuddering breath when she saw it was Sam. Thank God.
“It’s snowing pretty hard. Sure you don’t want a lift?” he texted.
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
“Great. And whoever gets there first, grab a table.”
Ivy finished her laundry, put her clean clothes away, and made up her bed with fresh sheets. She moved quickly, determined to get out of the house before Wes called. Bed made, she brushed her hair, patted her back pocket, checking for her phone, reassured by the rigid outline through the stiff denim of her Wranglers, and then grabbed her coat and purse.
Outside, she walked briskly. The snow was still falling, but less heavily. The world was still and serene, little traffic at the moment, and yet she couldn’t see the beauty, not when she kept going hot and then cold, her heart racing, her stomach queasy.
If Wes had the landline phone number for Joan’s house, then he knew exactly where she was, which meant, he was on his way to find her.
But Wes couldn’t find her. Wes was bad news. She couldn’t allow him to be in her life anymore.
Ivy arrived at Main Street Diner first, and after stomping the packed snow from her boots and brushing it from her coat, she went inside where it was warm and smelling of coffee and grilled meat and onions. The diner was still in the middle of the lunch crowd and she was taken to a small table for two in the back corner. The quiet corner suited her fine and when the waitress asked if she wanted something to drink, Ivy ordered a coffee, black, but once it arrived, she couldn’t make herself drink it. Instead, she clasped the warm cup in her hands, and stared out one of the frosted windows featuring a happy snowman, trying to ease the chill around her heart.
She’d tried too hard to manage everything on her own. She’d tried hard to be tough and independent, rebuilding her life, and her finances. She hadn’t opened a new checking account in Marietta. She used a PO box for bills and mail. How did Wes find her? How could he track her down to Joan’s?
Ivy wanted to tell Sam everything, but he wouldn’t like it. And Sam was old school. He helped little old ladies across the street and made sure lost ducklings found their mother. He wouldn’t be okay with Wes’s behavior. He wouldn’t stand idly by if Wes threatened her in any way. And Wes would when he came to town.
She exhaled slowly, blinking away the stinging sensation in her eyes.
“You look lost, Ivy girl,” Sam said, his voice low and quiet.
She glanced up at him and ran a fingertip beneath an eye, making sure it was dry. “I didn’t hear you approach.”
“It’s pretty noisy in here today. I think the kids are out of school now for vacation.” Sam peeled off his coat, hung it on a hook on the brick wall and then sat down across from her, taking up all the space in the small corner, making her wish now she’d been given a big booth.
“When are you going to trust me?” he asked, reaching out for one of her hands, and holding it between his. “We’re supposed to be friends.”
His hands were rough but warm, and they felt good. He was reassuringly familiar, and safe. “I trust you,” she answered unsteadily.
“Then why won’t you confide in me? Something’s going on and it’s tearing you apart.”
She lifted her head and looked into his blue eyes; eyes so clear always reminded her of the Montana sky. “It’s complicated.”
“I know I didn’t go to an Ivy League college, but I’m not an idiot. What’s happened? And I know something has—new phone, different number, no social media anymore. You’re working in Crawford County, pouring drinks, talking about retiring from barrel racing. Who are you running from?”
“Not running from—” She broke off, overwhelmed, emotions running high. Ivy gulped a breath and shook her head, tears starting to fill her eyes. “Just a sec. Let me just pop into the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”
*
He saw the tears in her eyes, as well as the way she bit down into her bottom lip as she rushed from the table. It was all he could do to keep his seat and not chase after her. If she needed a moment, he’d give her a moment. But this time, he wasn’t going to drop the subject, and he wasn’t going to accept that everything was okay.
Ivy returned five minutes later, smiling brightly, but the tip of her nose was pink and her eyes overly bright. “Did you order?” she asked, sitting back down at their table.
“You haven’t even looked at the menu yet.”
“I was going to do the buffalo burger, with cheese. And fries.”
Sam signaled for the waitress and she headed over. He placed the order, and made small talk, thinking there was time enough to talk about serious stuff after they ate. Ivy was so high-strung, he had to keep things relaxed until she was more at ease. “My brothers say hello.”
“Say hello back.” She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, expression wistful. “I miss them, Tommy and Billy.”
“They miss you, too.”
“I wish Tommy had talked to me at the bar, and not just kept his distance.”
“I think he was shocked to see you there.”
She made a face. “Wolf Den’s a bar, not a brothel.”
“Yeah, but they remember you being a church girl.”
“I still go to church, still read my Bible and pray.”
His gaze swept her pretty face, lingering on her eyes before dropping to her lips. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if her prayers were working, but that didn’t seem fair, or
kind, and she was in desperate need of kindness.
And so they used the twenty minutes while waiting for their food to chitchat. He told her he needed to get his mom a birthday gift but it was always hard to shop for her. Ivy asked if they had a Christmas tree yet, and he said it was the biggest one they’d ever had. They discussed who was in Las Vegas this year and then finally lunch arrived.
Sam forced himself to be patient while she ate her burger, and still held back while she slowly picked her way through her french fries. But as she began to play with her food instead of eat, he knew he had to push for information. “Ivy, are you hiding from Wes?”
Her eyes widened and her cheeks lost color. “Why… why…”
“Just a yes or no, babe.”
She fidgeted with her plate and then mashed a fry. “Wes and I did not part on… good terms.”
Sam studied her pale, pinched face. There was so much she wasn’t saying. He felt the rise of impatience not because he needed a story, but because he was worried about her. This was not the Ivy he knew. This was an Ivy but full of hesitation and secrets. “Tell me everything, Ivy. I want the truth.”
She mashed another fry into the small pool of ketchup on her plate. “Wes isn’t who he appears to be. He’s not someone I want to be around. In fact, he’s someone I never want to see again.”
“He cheated on you?”
She laughed. “If only it was that easy.” She glanced up at Sam, expression shuttered. “He’s not a nice man. He’s not a good person.”
Sam had to take a breath to stay calm. “All this time I thought you and Wes were solid. He certainly seemed devoted to you. You were always together these past couple of years.”
“Wes wouldn’t let me do anything without him. We were always together because we always had to be together.” Her mouth opened, closed. “I don’t even like telling you these things. It’s humiliating.”
“You can trust me, Ivy.”
“Yeah, but you won’t respect me when you know everything. I don’t respect me—”
“Are you telling me he was controlling?”
She let out a soft inarticulate sound. “Wes is the most controlling person I have ever met. He was also impossible to escape from. I couldn’t breathe in that relationship. I couldn’t be me in that relationship. After a while, there was no me anymore, there was just him, holding the puppet strings.”
“Why didn’t you ask for help? I would have helped you. Any of us would’ve helped you.”
Her voice cracked. “I was just in too deep. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to trust—”
“You didn’t know who to trust? Ivy, you have so many friends on the circuit. You have so many friends who care about you—”
“It didn’t feel like it.” She blinked, looked away. “After Mom died, I was just so alone. I’d never felt so alone before. And then Wes arrived and he seemed to pick up the pieces.”
“You were not in pieces. Your life wasn’t in pieces—”
“My mom died without ever letting me know how sick she was! She let me think she had mono, something like that. I never knew she had cancer, and if I’d known I would have been there that last year, instead of competing.”
“Your mom respected you, and she was proud of your career.”
“She was more important than my career.”
“I think she just didn’t want to be a burden.”
“Then that was selfish of her, because by the time I knew what was going on, it was over. And it broke my heart that she’d died without me. And that’s when Wes showed up; when my heart and life were in pieces. Wes stepped in when I couldn’t think straight. I wasn’t eating, or sleeping, and then he swept me right into this fairy-tale romance, and for a while it was good. Then little by little, I began to see there was a price to be paid for being Wes’s girlfriend. He wanted to tell me how to dress, he wanted to shape me, he wanted to make decisions about which horse I rode and which rodeos I entered, and which sponsors I was to sign with, or let go.”
“That’s not something he should have been doing. Ever.”
“I know, but when I was first struggling with Mom’s death, I was completely numb and in a fog, and I welcomed his help. I found it useful, and helpful, to talk about sponsorships and opportunities with him. He is so connected and respected in the business that getting his feedback was good, but then over time it became more than just feedback. Wes began making the decisions for me and it was no longer my choice.” She stopped talking then and just stared down at her plate.
Sam couldn’t bring himself to speak, too blown away by what Ivy had told him. He’d had no idea that things were so bad for her, no idea that Wes had been such a dark, sinister influence. “We were both in Calgary in July. You should have told me then, Ivy. I would have helped you. My brothers would have helped you.”
“I wanted to reach out.” She bit down into her lower lip. “A half dozen times I nearly approached you, but Wes was always hovering. He wouldn’t give me any breathing room and I wasn’t yet prepared to lose everything—”
“Lose everything?”
“My money, my savings. He had access to everything—”
“How? I don’t understand.”
“As my manager, he arranged for automatic deposits instead of checks. He had payments sent to him so I could focus on competing.”
“You don’t like anyone touching your money.”
“He said he managed a number of competitors and this was how it was done.” She reached up and combed her fingers through her long hair, before tucking the heavy loose strands behind an ear. “I wanted him to stop managing my career, but I couldn’t figure out an exit strategy. Wes had very publicly taken on the role of my manager, and everyone went to him. My sponsors stopped asking me what I wanted and what I needed, and when I told Wes I wasn’t comfortable, he… he got ugly.”
Sam growled deep in his throat and stared out the big window overlooking Main Street. It was all he could do to stay in his seat, nearly impossible when he wanted to thrash something—someone—badly. “What do you mean by things got ugly?” he asked when he could trust himself to speak. “Did he touch you? Lay a hand on you?”
“He never slapped me. He never punched me—”
“For God’s sake, Ivy, did he touch you? Did he ever put a hand on you in anger?”
“He pushed me. He shook me. Stuff like that.”
Beneath the table, Sam’s hands clenched into fists. He was so angry, unbelievably angry, and yet he didn’t want to lose his temper. Ivy hated conflict. She didn’t like yelling. “How often?”
“Would it make you feel better if it only happened one time?”
“No. And I don’t think it was just one time. I’m thinking he was aggressive with you for a long time, and I’m thinking there is a lot you’re still not telling me.”
She didn’t speak for a long time and the silence was almost worse than her words. “The bottom line,” she said at length, “is that I shouldn’t have trusted him. I shouldn’t have let him into my life. Once I did, I was cornered, and I’m not proud of it, and I’m not comfortable admitting how bad it was, but I did get away from him, and I’ve been happy here… until now.”
“What does that mean?”
“My landlady, Joan, just told me today that Wes phoned the house last night, while I was at work. He told her he was going to call again today.” Ivy looked at Sam. “I don’t know how he figured out where I was staying. And if he has Joan’s landline, he has her address. I’m sure he’s on his way to Marietta now.”
Sam tossed down his crumpled paper napkin. “Are you done eating? ‘Cause I need to get out of here,” he said curtly.
She nodded and Sam, after glancing at the bill tucked face down beneath the condiment holder, put a couple twenties on the table. “What time do you have to be at work today?” he asked.
“Four.”
“We have time for a walk. Feel like stretching your legs?”
“Yes.�
�
Chapter Four
They set off toward the domed courthouse, with the massive Christmas tree in the courtyard. Oversized colored balls filled the tree, along with a shimmering red tinsel garland. Copper Mountain rose up behind the century-old courthouse, the mountain peak white, completely covered in snow. Fresh snow covered much of Crawford Park, too, but the paths had already been shoveled clear. Streetlamps lining the park’s paths were decorated with greenery and more bright red bows. Crawford Park, like downtown Marietta, looked like a scene straight from a TV Christmas movie, only Sam’s mood was not Hallmark friendly.
“Sam, I’m sorry—” Ivy started.
He cut her off. “I’m not mad at you.”
“But you’re upset.”
“I’m going to destroy him,” Sam said tightly, glancing down at her. “I will break every bone in his body—”
“Sam, that won’t help. You can’t touch him. He’ll have you charged with assault so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
“Yeah, but I’d have the satisfaction of knowing what hit him.”
She smothered a laugh. “I know you love talking with your fists, but this isn’t the time. It will just make things worse for everyone.”
Sam stopped walking and faced her. Her cheeks were pink from the cold air, and her dense black lashes made her light green-brown eyes brighter. And he realized all over again how much he’d missed her, and how awful it had been letting her walk away from him. It was without a doubt the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. “I’m not going to let him hurt you ever again.”
“We’ll need a plan,” she said, shoulders hunching. “He’s smart. Scary smart.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Wes is a poser. He’s a phony. He pretends to be someone he’s not. If he was that bright, he wouldn’t have had to trap you. Bully you.” Sam reached out and gently lifted a wispy tendril of dark hair from her flushed cheek. “No man should ever treat a woman that way, let alone someone like you.”
And like that, the promise he’d made to Ivy’s mom, Shelby, the promise that he’d look out for her, keep her safe, flashed through his mind. He hadn’t kept that promise. He’d done a few things for her, mostly financial things, but it wasn’t enough, not when she’d been in danger.