by J. Saman
“Bloody hell, Mum,” I whisper-shout, though the telly is so loud I doubt they can hear me. “Why didn’t you make him leave?”
“Because he called to see how your father was doing and since he likes Luke, Dad invited him over to watch the match. It was a nice thing, even if he is a wanker.”
Have I mentioned how much I love my mum?
“Go on back now. They’re waiting on you.” She’s smirking at me like this amuses the hell out of her.
“Oh I just bet they are.”
I roll my eyes and weave my way through the kitchen into the wood-paneled living room that has seen better days. My dad is sitting in his old beat-up recliner with his feet up, wearing a Carlton Football team sweatshirt, a glass of ice water in his hand that he no doubt wishes was a VB beer.
Luke is sitting on the couch in all his GQ model glory with a faded green t-shirt and dark wash jeans. Both men are engrossed in the screen and haven’t noticed my entrance, but when Luke turns his head to say something to my dad, he catches my eye and his face lights up in a way I wish I didn’t feel all the way down in my toes.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, ignoring Luke all together.
My dad’s silver head whips in my direction and he too smiles at me. “Ah, there’s my girl now. What the bloody fuck took you so damn long?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Knock it off, Dad.” I kiss his cheek before sitting on the other chair on the opposite side from where Luke is. “How are you feeling?”
“Bloody perfect.” He gives me a pointed look that says don’t mention it. “You didn’t say hi to your mate here.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
My dad laughs a hearty rumble before throwing Luke a shrug. “I told you she wouldn’t be happy.”
“Dad?” I grin innocently at Luke before looking back to my dad. “Didn’t you once mention something about cutting off his member if he messed me about?”
“Yeah, and I already told him that if he was a clever chap he’d leave before your mum fires up the barbie because I plan on roasting his balls on the open flame.”
I look to Luke who just shrugs like he’s not all that concerned.
I grin, leaning over to kiss my dad’s cheek before sitting back and pretending to be interested in the match on the telly. “I knew I could count on you. Soph says hi by the way.”
“She still coming up next month?”
“Don’t know, she said—”
“Fucking wanker, kick the blooming ball,” my dad yells at the television, cutting me off.
“Ease up, Dad, you’ll give yourself a stroke.”
“Ivy my girl, unless I’m under the age of twenty, you are not to give me medical advice. Either you sit here and watch or you leave,” he says in that loving fatherly tone of his.
“She just cares about you,” Luke offers with a broad grin that says he knows he’s baiting the lion.
“And you’d do well to stuff it, because I no longer like you.”
“You’re becoming a bit of an old codger in your advanced years, aren’t you?”
“Did you just stand up for me?” Luke asks all smiles, his brown eyes gleaming as he points a finger to his chest. “I told you I’m still her favorite person.” He pokes my dad in the arm like they had a bet going.
“Go home, Luke, you’ve paid your visit.”
“Nah, your dad invited me over and said I could stay, so I will.”
“I did that,” my father confirms. “But at the potential risk to his bollocks.” I can only smile at that. “Hey, Ivy,” my dad says absentmindedly, his eyes still on the television. “Did your mate and his girl go back to Boston yet, or are they still hanging about?”
Crap. I can feel the heat creeping up my skin and Luke’s eyes are boring holes into my skin. “Uh, no. Not yet. They go back tomorrow.”
“He’s a nice bloke . . .” my dad trails off, but whether he knows what he’s doing or not remains to be seen. “His girl too. What was her name again?”
“Darcy,” I supply, hoping that this is where it ends.
“Right, Darcy. Craig and Darcy, sweet couple. Too bad they’re not locals anymore. She was a—dive for it, you blooming fuckwits!” he screams at the telly, nearly spilling his water and making me jump because I’m far too on edge not to. My dad’s eyes have not wavered from the television once, and now mine are firmly affixed to it as well, like it will save me from this moment.
“I’m going to go see how Mum is getting on.”
I stand up quickly, nearly falling over as my feet tangle with each other. Who trips over their own feet?
“Sure, ask her if she’s going to make me some snags,” Dad says without looking up. “I’m bloody starved here.”
I nod though he doesn’t see me, and rush out of the room, scanning the halls in search of my mum. It’s not exactly a large house, but I hear her humming from her bedroom. Just as I’m about to barge in on her, a hand grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop.
“Let go,” I hiss.
“Yeah, not gonna happen,” Luke says ruining my escape as he holds me firmly in place. “What was that in there?” His expression is impossible to read as he walks me backward until my bum and back bump into the wall of the hallway. He’s imposingly tall over me, infuriating me with his proximity and smell and heat.
“That’s my dad watching Australian football as he always does. You saw him, Luke, which was nice and all, but now you really should go.”
Luke’s warm brown eyes narrow as his full lips set into a hard line. “Craig and some chick named Darcy? Explain that to me.”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you about anyone.”
Luke slams a frustrated hand on the wall above my head before leaning into me, but not daring to touch me.
I have nowhere to go, he’s completely bracketed me in. But I can’t breathe or think with him like this, and I’m so very desperate to be able to do both. He’s overwhelming me, the way he used to so effortlessly. My heart is pounding its way out of my chest, something I’m sure he can hear—if not feel. His enticing familiarity makes me want to lean in just as much as push him away. I hate him. I hate him so damn much.
Why can’t he just leave me alone? He managed it for a year, and in the span of not even a full day, I’ve had to endure him three times. I was so much steadier without seeing him. “Get away from me!” I push out. I’m so close to tears and I hate myself for it. “I don’t want you here.”
Anger is good. Anger is something substantial to cling to.
“Stop dodging this,” he growls, inching his face closer before pulling it back. “Are you with Craig, or is he with some girl named Darcy?”
There really is only so long this lie can continue, and honestly, what’s the point in maintaining it? It’s not like Craig lives here anymore anyway. He still has two more years left on his fellowship in Boston.
“Craig is with my very close friend, Darcy.”
Luke’s eyes slam shut as a stuttered breath escapes his lips.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Oh, come off it,” I snap. “You know exactly why Craig and I did that, though in all honesty, it wasn’t my idea.”
“So you and Craig are just friends?” he asks, unconvinced.
“Luke, it really doesn’t matter what Craig and I are. None of that matters. Craig and I are close friends and he didn’t want you messing me about the way he thought you would. So we lied. But the simple truth is that I’m not interested in playing this game with you. I mean, did you honestly believe I’d let you into my life a third time, only to have you walk away again without a backwards glance? I am many things, Luke, but stupid really isn’t one of them.”
Luke sighs out long and heavy, an internal struggle warring within the brown depths of his eyes. “I don’t know what to say to you, Ivy. I know I messed everything up. I know that seems to be my go-to. But things are different with me now. So different and . . . I would never walk away from you again.”
&n
bsp; “I don’t believe you.”
“Jesus, Ivy,” he groans, sagging forward like my words knocked his breath out. “Please, just give me a chance to explain. Please.” Luke leans into his arm that is still raised over my head, burying his eyes into his bicep. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You have no idea. I will be sorry forever, and that’s not a lie or a ploy, or anything other than the truth. I know I don’t deserve another shot. But the flip side of that truth is that I’m totally and utterly lost without you. I know it’s been twelve months, and I know you don’t believe me, and that I have a million miles of ground to make up, but please, Ivy, please just let me talk this out with you. If you want to walk away after that, then I guess I deserve it, but not before you know all that there is to know.”
I don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know what to think or how to react.
What do you do when you love someone who is bad for you?
What do you do when you love someone who you know will hurt you again given the chance?
“The definition of insanity, Luke, is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different outcome. And you are definitely making me insane, but it’s a cycle I’m tired of repeating.”
“I’ll never hurt you again. I swear on everything that I won’t. I know it’s been a long time and that we need to start over and all that, but give us that chance.”
Hope is a ticking time bomb.
Hope may be the most dangerous of emotions known to womankind.
Hope can go fuck itself.
“I can’t. I need you to let me go.”
He laughs out, but it’s devoid of humor as he finally drops his forehead to mine. And that’s my total undoing. That one small point of contact completely obliterates any remaining self-control and determination I had, and without warning, the tears I had been holding back, begin to freefall.
His hand comes up to cup my cheek, wiping away my scalding tears with his thumb. A small sob escapes as my lower lips trembles with restraint.
His eyes are bleeding, wounded and raw as they search my face, agonizing over my tears. “I can’t let you go, Ivy,” he says softly, his breath brushing across my cheek. “I don’t know how. You’re inside me and all around me, and the thought of giving you up is the worst sort of pain. It’s anguish, and believe me when I tell you that I know pain.”
“Please,” I plead.
His eyes close slowly as he takes in a deep breath, reopening them on the slow exhale, allowing me to feast on his torment. “Okay, honey,” he says in the saddest voice I’ve ever heard in my life. “I’ll leave. I’ll let you go, if that’s what you really want. If that’s what will make you happy. Because in all honesty, that’s all I really want for you. But you need to know how much I still love you. How much I’ll love you forever. You need to know because I never want you to doubt that. I won’t hurt you again, baby. I’d rather die.”
His mouth comes down to my cheeks, drinking up my tears. I want to cling to him. I want to take his words and hold on to them. I want to drown in his promise.
But I can’t, because hope and trust are not synonymous.
Chapter 26
Ivy
My phone rings in the middle of the night, blasting me out of a very sound sleep. My head whips around my room, still hazy and disoriented as I fumble around on my nightstand in search of my phone.
This is never a good thing. That’s sort of the universal rule about calls after midnight. They’re always bad news.
My first thought is that it’s about my father, though he looked well and good when I saw him today, but things can change quickly with kidney issues.
The phone stops ringing right as my finger is poised to answer it. It’s a number I don’t recognize and that alone sets me on alert. Swiping my finger across the screen, I sit up in bed as I bring the phone up to my ear. It rings once and then a familiar male voice answers.
“Ivy?”
“Yes?” I’m so confused right now. I know this voice, but for some reason I can’t place it, and the simple fact that they didn’t address me as Doctor Green tells me that it’s probably not work related.
“Hey, sorry to wake you, I realize it’s late.” There is a long pause when I don’t say anything. “It’s Ryan, by the way.”
“Oh,” I rub a hand over my face, clearing the sleep from my eyes. “Is it Kate? Are the twins all right?”
“Yes,” he rushes. “Yes, oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. The twins are awesome. Baking away. That’s not why I’m calling.”
“Okay?”
“I need your help. I wouldn’t call or ask you of all people, but Katie is away at a nursing conference and he’s refusing to go to the emergency department.”
“I’m sorry, I’m missing something here. What are you talking about?”
“Luke,” he says like I should have already guessed that. “Who the hell else would be stupid enough to punch a brick wall?”
“Ryan, back up here for a minute,” I say, but I’m climbing out of bed, flipping on the bedside lamp and pulling on my jeans. “Luke punched a brick wall? Why?”
Ryan sighs out, sounding tired with everything.
“Because the stupid bastard told you he’d let you go and he’s in love with you, so he punched a wall thinking that would somehow solve all his problems. It didn’t, Ivy. Let me tell you, it really didn’t and I need that hand. I need him to be functioning and able to work, and with his hand like this, he can’t.” Then I hear a muffling sound before Ryan says something that sounds like “shut up and stop bleeding all over the place.”
“What do you need me to do? Because if you’re asking me to tell him that I’ll give him another go, I’m hanging up on you,” I say that, but I’m brushing my teeth as I speak. I say that I want him to leave me alone, yet at the first sign of trouble or him needing me, I fly out of bed in the middle of the night. Even when he does something as asinine as punching a brick wall.
I should be fractious at this imposition. I should be overwhelmed with rage for this intrusive call, but I’m not. I’m worried about Luke’s hand and about him, and I hate myself for that. I hate myself for being weak where he’s concerned. I know now I’ll always be, despite telling him to sod off.
“No, I’m not saying that,” Ryan continues. “I’m saying that the dipshit may have broken his hand and might also need stitches. I’m saying that he won’t go to the hospital and I’m saying that his hands are worth a lot to me. So I’m asking—no, I’m begging, for your help.”
“Where are you?” I sigh out, standing in the middle of my living room looking at my reflection in the window.
I shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t get involved. I should let him figure this out on his own. Nothing good will come of me seeing him and helping him. I should say no.
“His place.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I disconnect the call and go over to my bag of supplies, grabbing what I think I may need. I’m going to help him. I’ll clean up his hand and make sure it’s not broken, but that’s all.
I stare at myself for a moment through the eyes of the window again. “You’re right stupid, aren’t you?” I glare at my reflection.
I won’t get sucked in. I won’t.
“Right,” I mutter to myself, lacking any and all conviction as I throw on my jacket and head for the door.
Fifteen minutes later—instead of ten—I knock on his door. I spent those extra five minutes sitting in my car, deliberating the sagacity of my decision-making when it comes to Luke. But I’ve thought this out and through, and came up with a game plan.
I am icy. I am Ivy ice. Cold and impenetrable.
God, I feel so bloody foolish.
The door opens and an exhausted Ryan fills the threshold. He offers me a tight grin as he pushes his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“Thank you and I’m sorry. He’s not drunk or anything, but he’s ornery as hell.”
“It’s fine,” I shrug feigning indifference, relieved that he’s not drunk. Nothing about this is fine. Nothing about being here is fine. I should go. I need to go. Dammit!
“Is that him?” I hear Luke call out from inside his flat and I furrow my eyebrows at Ryan.
“I, uh . . .” He shrugs sheepishly. “I may have told him that you were a friend of Katie’s.”
I sigh, my shoulders deflating, seriously contemplating turning on my heels and hightailing it out of here. The look in Ryan’s eyes is what’s keeping my feet grounded firmly in place. He’s silently begging me, and for whatever reason, I like Ryan enough to want to help him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Brushing past Ryan, he graciously steps back to allow me entrance. I spot Luke, sitting on one of the bar stools in his kitchen with his hand wrapped in a cloth and a giant bag of frozen peas over it.
Remember seconds ago when I said I was ice? That was laughable, because ice melts—and that’s exactly what I just did all over the goddamn floor. Seeing him wounded and broken is a little more than I can bear. He did this to himself. Sucking in a deep, resolved breath, I continue on through the dark expanse.
“So, Ryan here thinks it’s broken, but I—” he stops abruptly as he glances up, noting that I’m not this other bloke he was expecting. “You called her?” he snaps at Ryan, looking away from me with something close to regret in his eyes.
“I did. We needed a doctor to look at your hand, and since you’re too fucking stubborn to go to the hospital, your ex is what you get.”
“Asshole,” Luke points at Ryan. “I would never have done something like that to you after the Duchess left.”
Ryan laughs out. “Bullshit, man. You were on me for weeks to call Katie, or stalk her down and go find her. You would have absolutely done this, so shut up, take the help and be done with it.”
Luke grumbles something unintelligible under his breath and I take that as my cue to proceed. I pull in a fortifying breath and walk further into the apartment, refusing to look around, and move over to where he’s sitting. My bag drops onto the counter next to his injured hand with a heavy thud as I sit down, not touching him.