by J. Saman
Ivy gasps and clasps tightly to my hand that is still resting over her heart. It draws my eyes away from the fire and back to hers. There is no pity in them. God, I love this woman.
I shrug a shoulder. “And that’s sort of how it went for a long time, and because I never knew another way it was just our life.”
“Did anyone know?” Ivy asks softly.
I suck in more air, suddenly feeling like the walls are closing in on me as I shake my head no.
“That must have been difficult.”
I smile at her, but it might just be the saddest smile I’ve ever given. “As I got older, I realized that this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. I realized my father was evil, not just sick or had a problem, but truly evil. That happened when I was fourteen and my sister Elizabeth was eleven.”
I shift on the couch, uncomfortable. The back of my neck is sweating and it feels like the tee-shirt I’m wearing is strangling me. My fingers pull the collar away from my neck, but it’s not helping. I can’t fucking do this.
“You can do this,” she says and I almost want to laugh at just how well she knows me. She doesn’t think she does, but Ivy Green gets me whether she wants to or not.
I sigh. “Elizabeth was carrying my father’s dinner plate to the table one night when it slipped out of her hands and crashed to the floor. My father had never really gone after Elizabeth before. He’d always had an odd soft spot for her, and took out his aggression on my mother and I instead. Especially if he had been drinking, which was often. But that night, he backhanded Elizabeth so hard, she flew off her feet and careened into the door frame, cracking her head. The dress she was wearing went with her and when she landed, it ended up around her waist, revealing her panties.”
I pause here, thinking back on that night and I’m instantly filled with an enmity unlike any other. My body tenses out of reflex, my jaw clenching tight, and my stomach churns with protective need. When I don’t continue, Ivy squeezes my hand. “Go on,” she whispers again, her voice thick with emotion.
I inhale a deep breath before blowing it out slowly, trying to compose myself in order to finish this horrific nightmare of a story.
“My father stood above her for a few very long minutes, just staring down at her with her dress lifted like that. Finally, he licked his lips and his eyes darkened with dirty fucking intent.” I shake my head, so disgusted by the mere thought of it. “I was only fourteen, but I understood enough of what he was thinking, and in that moment, I knew I had to do something or he’d destroy her. Not just hurt her, but destroy everything pure and innocent about her. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to do. I had contemplated going to our pastor for help or my friend’s mother. Neither were any great shakes and probably wouldn’t offer much help. I knew my mother would never do anything—she’d just brush it off as she always did. I even deliberated running away with Elizabeth. But that all changed the following Sunday.
“I was getting out of the shower before church, dressed in my best, too small, second-hand clothes when I saw my father standing by the doorway to the room Elizabeth and I shared. He was watching her dress through the crack in the door, the sickest most depraved look on his face as his body made his thoughts known. Then he touched himself while looking at her, pushing open the door to our room before I called out his name, stopping him. In that moment my mind was made up. I was decided and that night after everyone was asleep—”
I swallow so hard and loud that the sound reverberates in my ears, not because I regret what I did, but because this is the point that could make Ivy leave. I’m shaking like a leaf in the wind, pressing my hand to her as firmly as I can without hurting her. My eyes close, visions dancing through my mind as I relive the moment that changed everything.
“That night I went into my parent’s bedroom, pulled the loaded revolver out of his nightstand drawer, and aimed it at his head.”
Ivy draws in a breath, before a startled gasp slips through her lips and now she’s shaking too.
“I stood there, watching my father sleep, my mother next to him and I couldn’t pull the trigger. I had a flash of a memory, one small moment in time, when my father was decent to me. He taught me how to throw a baseball in our yard. That was it. That was the extent of any positive moments my father and I shared, but it was in my mind and it was strong enough to give me pause. So I stood there, trembling and sick and crying. I must have made a noise or something because he opened his eyes.”
I let out a strangled laugh, though nothing about this is funny. I can’t even look at Ivy right now, despite being desperate to know what she’s thinking. I close my eyes again and I’m bombarded with my father. His face. His expression. His smell. It still nauseates me all these years later.
“He didn’t do anything at first, just lay there watching me with that gun pointed at his face. He didn’t try to talk me down or ask me what I was doing. Nothing. Until he saw my resolve to kill him falter and fade. His expression twisted into something I can only describe as diabolically cruel. My father went for the gun, trying to pry it out of my grip, but it wasn’t to stop me from shooting him. My father was going to kill me. It was written all over his face in murderous contempt, and I knew that if I didn’t shoot him, he was going to either shoot me or beat me to death. So I pulled the trigger.”
Ivy stands up suddenly, pacing around the living room, going between the fireplace and the window and back again. Her face pallid, nearly gray and her slate eyes are wild.
“You killed him,” she says flatly despite the myriad of emotions swirling across her.
I don’t need to answer, but I do anyway. “Yes.”
“Fuck,” she hisses out and all I can do is watch her loop back and forth. I can’t even go to her because I know, I know, she’ll push me away.
So screw it, I’ve come this far.
“It was murder, Ivy.” She winces and shudders at the word. “I knew it then, even though I was only fourteen and I didn’t try to hide that from anyone. I wish I could tell you that I regretted it, but I didn’t and I don’t. I told the judge why I did what I did and he sent me to a juvenile detention facility until I turned eighteen. My record was sealed after that point, and I managed to graduate high school and go to Caltech.”
She nods, absorbing my words, but has yet to comment or run. She actually hasn’t run, I realize.
So I let her work through this. Let her make sense of what I just said and hope. Fucking hell this is torture.
Finally, after five minutes—yes, I said five—she stops pacing and joins me on the couch. Her expression is stricken, and I brace myself for the words that will no doubt end me.
“I don’t know what to say about all that. I don’t judge you or blame you for the decisions you felt you had to make. Do I wish you had chosen a different course? Absolutely. I still can’t wrap my mind around that. But you probably saved your sister from a fate worse than death. I can’t begin to understand the courage that took, but I have seen the aftermath of girls who end up like your sister could have. I’ve seen that particular brand of evil and destruction, and those girls are never the same, Luke. Their spirits are broken.” Ivy stretches up, kissing the corner of my mouth. I pull her into me, breathing her in the way I need to as I start to lose my shit.
I’m shaking and crying like a baby, but I don’t care.
She didn’t run.
But I didn’t tell her what came next and there’s more.
So much more.
Chapter 31
Luke
We sit like this, wrapped in each other and crying for I don’t know how long, but it has to have been a while because it’s well past dark now.
“Do you have work tomorrow?” I ask softly, kissing the side of her head.
She pulls back, wiping tears and mascara from her under her eyes and nods.
“I should probably go.” That hurts, but I understand all the same. It’s not like I really expected anything else. “There’s more you haven’t told
me.”
“Yes. A lot.”
She thinks on this for a minute, chewing the corner of her mouth. “Can you tell me now? I don’t know why, but I just want to hear everything all at once so I can go home and not be able to sleep while I think on everything.”
I chuckle lightly. “Not be able to sleep?”
“Do you really think sleep would be possible after what you just told me?” She raises a dubious eyebrow.
“I guess not. Sorry about that.”
She shrugs, not really all that concerned with her lack of sleep. “I want to hear the rest please.”
“Okay.”
It’s really not okay. I have zero interest in telling her. I don’t want to talk anymore, but I can’t say no to her if she’s willing to hear it. She’s here. She stayed and she didn’t judge me.
Holy hell, why didn’t tell her this before? I’m such a fucking idiot.
I could have avoided so much pain.
Sucking in a deep breath, I continue on.
“So I spent four years in juvie, which was an eye-opening experience to say the least. I met a lot of different types of people there, learned many useful skills, but it wasn’t until I met a particular guy that things changed. I can’t give you his name, so don’t ask, but let’s just say he taught me how to write code and hack, and then I taught myself how to do it with any system I wanted.”
Ivy’s eyes go wide, but this part really shouldn’t be all that surprising for her.
“I was better than good, I was the best, and that got me into Caltech.” I shrug. “At least, I think it did. I still don’t know how I managed that one, but whatever. I got into Caltech and everything came easy as pie to me, and before I knew it, I was a part of the underground hacking ring that was in direct competition with MIT.”
“That’s how you met Ryan?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “We were up against each other in the finals. Don’t let that unaffected hipster façade fool you, that man is a first-rate hacker.”
“Continue, Lucas, you’re sidetracking now,” Ivy says in that wry way of hers that always has me smiling.
“All the bad stuff began before that.”
“I figured.”
That has my attention. “You did?”
She smiles like she’s brilliant and I underestimate her, which I’m sure I do. Screw that, I did underestimate her because she’s here, sitting with me and smiling. She’s heaven and I was epically wrong—as usual.
“I knew there was no way you would get caught for that and Ryan wouldn’t, especially since he beat you.” She raises an eyebrow in challenge.
“He did beat me, but only because I knew shit was going down and I was busy destroying evidence.” That earns me a frown. “I was doing illegal things, Ivy. No reason to say otherwise. I’m not especially proud of that. It’s one of the reasons why Ryan and I do what we do now, but that bust, that ring, is not what I’ve been hiding from you.”
She sighs, looking tired and beautiful.
“Do you want to postpone this?” Please say yes. Please say yes.
“No.” Of course she doesn’t.
I take her hand, holding it tight and look her dead in the eyes.
“What I’m about to tell you is partially classified. There are things I will not be able to disclose and that will never change.” She swallows hard, but manages a tight nod of acceptance. “When I first got to Caltech I was angry. I had been angry for four years and had a chip on my shoulder because of it. I felt I had something to prove. That I was more than some punk kid who killed their asshole father and went to juvie for it. So I began to hack government mainframes. They’re really old systems that most hackers don’t care so much about, but I went after them.
“And I got in and continued from one place to another. That’s what I really got busted for, though they weren’t after missing information because I stole none of it. But hacking the United States Government is a big deal. A very punishable big deal, so they had me and they knew it. They wanted to use my skills, and since I could have gone to prison for a very long time for any one of my transgressions, that was used as leverage. My freedom became payment for my services.”
“And that’s what you were doing when you left that time and didn’t ring me? And all those phone calls you took in private?”
“Yes. I can’t tell you anything else about that though. I can’t tell you what I do or who I’m with.”
“But you said some things had changed?”
“They have. I worked it so that there is less personal risk involved for me and anyone I’m in a relationship with. Don’t ask me how I managed that either.”
“Personal risk?”
I can only cringe and nod.
“So you’re telling me I was in danger when we were together before?” She’s looking at me in disbelief. Or maybe she’s pissed off that I even placed her in that position to begin with. Hard to say really.
“Not really, darlin’. I mean, there are people out there, governments out there, who would love to get their hands on me, but it’s not like I walk around with a sign on my chest that says who I am and what I do. I’ve only ever been directly targeted while I was actively working.”
“What the bloody fuck does that mean?”
I shrug, because I feel like that’s pretty self-explanatory and any further comment will be counterproductive not to mention illegal for me to share. Besides, that’s not really the case anymore. I’m more in the background now, after taking down a large international hacking ring and using that to negotiate my breath of freedom.
“But you’re still working for . . . whomever you were working for?”
“Yes, but to a lesser degree and on a smaller scope.”
Ivy shakes her head, standing up again and doing that pacing thing that seems to aid her thought process.
“And that’s for life?”
“Possibly, yes.”
She shakes her head, dismayed, her lips pursed. Apparently that was not the answer she was hoping for.
“So all this rubbish,” she waves her hand in the air. “All this rubbish is why you pushed me away before?”
“I didn’t want to. You have no idea how much I flipped back and forth on that.” I sit up, leaning forward and placing my elbows on my parted thighs. “Being with you is the only thing I’ve ever wanted, but I am a convicted murder who is also part of a black ops sect of the government responsible for dangerous and covert hacks. What was I supposed to do? None of that is your world, and you fucking deserved better.”
“And now I don’t?”
I physically recoil from her words because it feels like she just slapped me across the face and punched me in the gut at the same time. I’ve heard the expression if looks could kill, but I think her words may have just done the trick.
“I’m sorry.” She blows out an angry breath, staring into the fire. “That was cruel.”
“But not untrue.”
She doesn’t say anything, and I hate it when I’m right. She’s done. Checked out on me and I can’t say I blame her.
“Thank you for telling me all of that.”
Her voice is distant, detached, unemotional. She’s gone and I can’t think of a damn word that could bring her back.
I knew she’d leave when she heard the whole truth and nothing feels worse than you when tell yourself, See? I told you so, asshole. Yeah, that one really sucks.
“I should go,” she says stoically and my head drops into my hands. “It’s late and I have an early shift.”
“I’ll walk you out.” My voice is not devoid of emotion. My voice is filled with the anguish that is crashing down on me in heavy tormented waves.
“That’s not necessary,” she says and I slam my eyes shut as my breath lodges in my chest. I didn’t think anything could hurt this much. Probably because I never allowed myself to believe it was over until this very moment.
“I’m sorry, Luke. I am. I just . . .” Her voice trails off and I manage en
ough strength to lift my head and stare into her beautiful face. But her expression is as undemonstrative as her tone, and I lower my head again. “I need time to think about all of this. To absorb it.”
“It’s fine, Ivy. You can go and I’ll let you do that. I’ll stop chasing you,” I sigh out so damn heavy and deflated that my body bows. “If that’s what you want, I’ll let you go.”
“I don’t know what I want right now. This is just a lot to process in one night. You’re asking me to be a part of a world I don’t understand and cannot know about, and turn a blind eye to it when you have to leave at a moment’s notice to go and do something that could put both of our lives at risk. I just—I need to go.”
I can’t say anything else. I can’t say bye or take care or I love you. I can’t get on my knees and beg her either, because she’s right. I may have changed the stakes, but Ronaldo made it clear that once you’re part of this, it’s sort of a lifelong venture.
And if I am able to ‘retire’ from it . . . well, no one’s done that yet so who the fuck knows what happens then.
Then there’s the whole murdering, illegal activity part of my life that’s also not so easy to overlook in the sobering light of day.
Maybe that shit with my dad was justified, and maybe it wasn’t, but I have zero excuses for everything else. But I like to feel that I’ve served my time and then some. I like to feel that my penance is making this world a little safer, a little more secure from evil fucked up people who seek to bring it down.
So I rationalize and justify my life.