7. Ivy

7

IVY

I was staring intently at my computer screen when the knock came at my door. Having gotten home from work only twenty minutes ago, I knew it was Ava.

My best friend called me last night after she’d learned from my brother, Tate, about my attack. I’d spent the night at my parents’ place last night. My sister still lived at home, and since everyone had been so worried, I told them I’d stay the night. Plus, if I was honest, given how my night in the hotel had been, I had felt a bit uneasy about being alone.

Luckily, I’d managed a nightmare-free night, which may have also been because we’d had time together with Cooper and Skye sharing the news of her pregnancy with the family. The excitement of a new addition to the family helped distract me from my attack.

On the bright side, I felt confident enough to be back home tonight. And Ava had informed me she was coming to visit me as soon as I got home from work. I couldn’t say I didn’t understand, or that I minded. If I’d learned that something similar had happened to her, I’d have done the same thing.

I abandoned my laptop temporarily and scurried over to the door. When I opened it with a smile on my face, I found my best friend staring at me with nothing but terror in her eyes. She dropped the bag she’d been holding in her hand, threw her arms around me, and said, “Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

I hugged her back, something I felt like I’d been doing to everyone I’d encountered and shared the story with over the last two days. “I’m alright, Ava. Just a little banged up.”

Ava loosened her hold on me, pulled back, and allowed her eyes to roam over my face, like she needed to confirm for herself that I’d told her the truth. She looked ready to break down into tears. “I’m so sorry about what happened. When Tate came home and told me about it, I freaked out.”

“I know. You called me in a panic last night.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

I nodded and closed the door behind her. “I am. Come on, let’s eat.” Ava picked up the bag with the food. “Thanks for grabbing dinner on the way over.”

“Of course.”

As we made our way back to the dining room table, I said, “So I have a question. Have you ever tried knitting before?”

“Knitting?”

“Yeah. You know, like blankets and sweaters and scarves. Knitting.”

We made it to the dining room, and I turned to face Ava. She was wearing a look of concern. “I’ve never tried knitting before. Why are you asking?”

I shrugged. “I was thinking about trying it out, but I’m not sure if I’m going to like it.”

The two of us sat down as Ava pulled out the food. “I don’t see you enjoying it, but I guess if you’re looking to try something new, there’s no harm in it.”

“We’ll see. I have some time yet before I need to make a decision, so I’ll keep searching for ideas,” I reasoned.

“What do you mean? Ideas for what? What’s going on?”

Noting the concern on her face, I wanted to set her mind at ease. “Nothing. It’s just that I have a few things planned for now that will keep me busy for a bit. But once I get those things done, I want to make sure I have something else lined up.”

Her brow furrowed, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t say. We spent the next few minutes focusing on our food, and the silence was eventually broken by my best friend. “What’s that about?”

“What?”

She jerked her chin to the opposite end of the table and pointed. “Those. Why do you have boxes of colored pencils, markers, and crayons?”

“For coloring.”

“Since when do you color?”

I grinned at her. “I’m planning to start tonight.”

Ava looked at me like I’d grown three heads or like she was meeting me for the first time ever.

“What’s that look for?”

She chewed slowly, her gaze reeking of caution. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Of course. What would make you say that?”

Her eyes darted back and forth between me and the coloring supplies. “Well, you’re asking about knitting, and now I’m learning that you’re planning to start coloring tonight. What’s next?”

I rolled my eyes. “You say that like I haven’t been keeping myself busy doing all kinds of new things over the last year. And if you’re genuinely curious about what’s next, I am planning to do some rearranging of my furniture and going through my wardrobe over the next couple of weeks, too.”

I got back to eating, keeping my attention focused on my friend. She did the same, but I couldn’t miss how the silence hung heavily between us.

Just as I was about to ask her if everything was okay, she said, “Ivy, I think you might need help.”

“Moving the furniture? Yeah, probably. I just need to figure out where I want everything first. I’m not so good at visualizing stuff like that and will probably need to see it before I?—”

“Ivy, stop.”

I jerked back at the harshness in her tone. “What?”

The pain and worry etched into her features was plain as day. “I’m not talking about you needing help with moving furniture. I’m talking about you needing help dealing with what happened to you two nights ago.”

Shaking my head, I murmured, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“You’re my best friend, and I know you’re not even close to being fine. Tell me what’s going on inside your head, because it’s clear to me that you’re struggling with what happened.”

I’d already been getting full, but with the direction the conversation was heading, I pushed it away and sat back in my chair. I didn’t want to talk about what happened anymore. I’d talked about it enough as it was.

“There’s nothing to say. I’m just trying to move on.”

She nodded. “I understand that, but if you’re having a hard time, you’ve got to talk to someone about it.”

This was exhausting.

I might not have experienced any nightmares last night, but I felt like I hadn’t slept in days. This whole experience had wiped me out.

“Ava, I don’t want to talk about it,” I insisted, my tone pleading with her. “I feel like I’ve done nothing but talk about this for two days now. There really is nothing left to say. I told my family and the police. They’re out there looking for this guy, so it’s out of my hands now. I just need to move on with my life.”

“I know that. And I’m genuinely happy to know that’s what you want, but I’m worried about you. Everything you’re doing just seems very strange.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging with disappointment. “I think it’s strange that the people closest to me wouldn’t want to see me doing things to stay busy, that you’d want me to be wallowing in self-pity instead.”

“Nobody wants that for you,” she argued.

I cocked a brow. “You’re making it seem like I’m crazy when the reality is that I’ve been doing random things I’ve never done before, almost weekly, for the last year.”

Sadness washed over her. “I know you, Ivy. I know you, and this isn’t you. I wish you would talk to me, tell me how you’re really feeling, and let me help you. Tate told me this guy ripped your clothes and tried to force himself on you.” I winced at the recollection. “You fought back, and I’m so grateful you were able to get away before he did anything worse. But the terror you must have felt that night, I can’t even begin to imagine. And?—”

“Then stop trying,” I demanded, mostly because I didn’t want the pity party. I didn’t want the sorrowful looks, and I certainly didn’t want to have to replay the incident in my head over and over, if I could help it. “Stop trying to imagine it. Nobody wants to imagine something like that. I experienced it, and I want to forget it happened.”

“But ignoring your real feelings doesn’t make this better for you.”

It was easier to ignore my real feelings. My real feelings left me feeling stuck, unable to do anything. My real feelings had me paralyzed and paranoid. My real feelings were the reason I wound up in that situation to begin with.

This was no longer about feelings. This was about doing what was smart, what made sense.

“Okay. Fine. You want to know what my real feelings about it are?” I asked her.

“Of course. I want to help you.”

“I hate that everyone is looking at me like I’m weak, like I’m going to break at any moment,” I started. “I hate that everyone seems to think I should be sitting at home instead of going to work and doing something that feels meaningful. I hate that the only person of all who know about what happened who seems capable of treating me like normal is Marco.”

Ava jerked back in her seat. “Marco?”

I dipped my chin. “Marco.” She held my stare, something tense and uncomfortable mounting between us. “The craziest part about it is that if anyone should be feeling unsettled by any of this, it’s him.”

My best friend’s voice was soft, barely a hint above a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

“He was there,” I told her. “That night, when I was still feeling such terror about it, Marco was there. I got away from that guy, raced back to the hotel, and went to the suite I knew no guests would be in. And moments later, Marco walked in, because he was there to do a repair. He saw me at the very definition of the worst of it. He witnessed my panic, discomfort, and fear. If anyone has a reason to feel concerned about me, it’s him. He saw it all firsthand.”

I inhaled deeply, attempting to settle myself, but my clenched jaw and taut muscles indicated it might not have worked the way I’d hoped.

“You can’t honestly tell me he wasn’t worried about you, that he isn’t still concerned,” Ava said.

“Of course, he was worried,” I confirmed. “He walked into that room and saw me in a state of panic. I had tears leaking from my eyes, marks on my face, and torn clothing hanging from my body. He took care of me that night, but he didn’t do it by simply listening to the story of what happened, cleaning up my cuts, loaning me a shirt, and holding me when I felt uneasy. He bought me dinner and joked with me. He sat beside me and watched television with me. He treated me like normal . And when I saw him working in one of the villas this morning, he didn’t dwell on what I’d been through. Sure, he asked how I was doing, but once I insisted that I was okay, Marco moved on from it. We had a normal conversation and laughed with each other. I don’t understand why everyone else can’t do the same for me.”

“We’re worried.”

“And I love you for it. But that’s not an excuse for anyone to make me feel like I can’t get my life back to normal. I can’t follow someone else’s plans for what it means to be okay. I need to do what’s best for me.”

She hesitated for a moment, her expression softening. “You’re right, Ivy. I’m sorry. You need to do whatever feels right for you, and if that’s knitting, coloring, working, or rearranging your place, then that’s what you should do. I’ll do whatever I can to support you, to be the friend I’ve always been to you. And if it changes, if there’s something else you need, I’ll be here for that, too.”

I let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ava. I really just want to get back to normal, and a big part of that for me involves focusing on things that make me happy. Like the news we got from Cooper and Skye yesterday.”

Ava immediately perked up, her face brightening at the mention of Cooper and Skye. “I can’t believe they’re having a baby!”

This was precisely what I needed. Normal conversation with my best friend that didn’t involve fixating on something that neither of us could change and would only cause me stress.

Relief swept in, the tension leaving my body, and I enjoyed the rest of my time with Ava.

Two days later, I was elbows deep in my new hobby when my phone rang.

My sister’s name popped up on the display. I set down the colored pencil and answered her call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ivy. What’s going on?”

“Not much. What are you up to?” I returned.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to meet me for lunch this afternoon?”

I would have loved nothing more than to spend some time with my sister. But the last thing I wanted to do was leave this house to go anywhere that wasn’t work. “Um, I… I appreciate the invite, but I think I’m going to stay in today.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t miss the disappointment in her voice. “Are you busy?”

“No. No, I can talk, if you want. I’m just not up for going out today.”

“Okay. Well, maybe we can plan for tomorrow,” she suggested.

Damn it. I should have expected she’d press for a new date when I declined her initial invite. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you already have plans for tomorrow?” she asked.

“No.”

There was a long pause, and I swore I could hear her mind racing through the line. “So, you don’t have plans, but you’re also not interested in grabbing lunch with me? That doesn’t sound like you.”

Jules was so bubbly, the picture-perfect image of what it meant to be a great sibling, and I was the opposite. I always had been the tougher of the two of us when it came to confrontation.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised by how I reacted to her. “No, Jules, I’m not interested in grabbing lunch with you. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not any time soon. I’m home, and I don’t want to go anywhere until I need to head back to work on Monday. That’s it.”

“Are you… are you okay?”

Great.

I’d just yelled at my sweet sister because I couldn’t get a grip on myself and all that was bothering me.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, trying to rein in the frustration I felt. “I just… I feel like I’m constantly being questioned about whether I’m okay when I’ve already made it clear that nothing is wrong. I should be allowed to decline an invite for lunch without it being some red flag.”

The silence stretched between us, my heart aching at how I’d just spoken to Jules.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I just thought it’d be nice for us to spend some time together and talk. If you don’t want that, it’s fine. I love you, Ivy. And you’ve been on my mind. I just want to know that you’re okay after everything that’s happened. That’s all I wanted. And I’m sorry for pointing out something that seems out of character. You never turn down lunch with me, so I thought I’d press you just to be sure you’re alright.”

“Jules, I?—”

“It’s fine,” she insisted. “Honestly, don’t worry about it. If you need time alone, take it. I’m here whenever you’re ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jules didn’t give me a chance to respond.

And I could tell by the shakiness in her tone that she was on the verge of tears.

I hadn’t meant to lash out at her like I did. I didn’t know how to share the truth of how I really felt. Meeting her somewhere meant that I’d have to go out on my own. And she’d be out on her own. Even if we went together, I didn’t think it was worth the risk.

She was my little sister. I’d never want her to experience what I had, and if I could stop that from happening by declining her invite, then that’s what I had to do.

I looked down at the colored pencils.

I hated coloring.

I hated this solitary life I seemed destined to live.

And in the same thought, I realized I could have had the company of my sister today.

But I’d chosen to push her away, too.

If I didn’t want to go out, I could have just invited her over.

I sighed.

Was this ever going to get better?

Would it always feel this way?