Chapter 36

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ivy

I vaguely remember listening to a story about a jar of peanut butter, a very happy dog, and Knox and Ella furiously scrubbing their kitchen before their mom came home.

I vividly remember dreams—of being so dizzy I could barely think straight while changing sheets and cleaning up puke; of that night with Hiller, hands squeezing too hard, my words not penetrating his drunken haze; of Evie’s sperm donor and the night he’d hurt me, the night that finally made me realize nothing would change and I needed leave; of being sent house to house to house as a kid, never feeling like I belonged.

Okay, so maybe they’re memories, nightmares, things I want to forget.

I struggle to shove them away, to swim out from beneath the swirling memories?—

Soft hands touching my cheek, coaxing me up.

“Drink this, lioness,” I hear.

Even with the dark memories curling through my mind—those unwelcome hands—I recognize the voice that speaks and don’t panic.

Then there’s a cup pressed to my lips, and I peel open my eyes enough to see Knox, to remember where I am and what’s happening. “Evie?” I rasp.

“Fine,” he says quietly. “Actually better than fine. She’s feeling herself again.”

Relief slides over me. “I’ll?—”

“You’ll rest, baby,” he says. “ After you drink this and take your medicine, okay?”

I don’t have the strength to argue, just eat the cracker and sip from the cup he holds up then swallow down the medicine with a shudder. “My throat hurts.”

“I know.” A gentle touch coaxing me to lie back. “I’m sorry, lioness. Try to sleep—you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

Words bubble up in the back of my throat.

There’s something I want to say, something I need to say.

Only the moment my head hits the pillow they poof away like so much smoke.

Dreams descend…

But this time they’re not nightmares.

They’re bright spots of sunshine on a cold, winter day—Evie smiling as she breaks a board in karate; Knox working his ass off in the weight room; colorful pictures on my fridge; Evie and me watching a Sierra game, cheering as Knox scores; Game Night with Ella, Nova, Lake, and the rest—battling through Uno , kicking butt in Ticket to Ride , losing terribly in Abducktion but not caring because Knox’s happiness is enveloping me; noshing on delicious apple turnovers with Ella, Jolie, and Nova last week, never feeling out of place.

And I sleep, knowing that Knox is right…

I can have this.

I can have so much more.

I can love him.

My mind clears, peace filling me, and I sleep the sleep of the truly exhausted.

The next time I rouse, I feel slightly better, and the medicine goes down easier.

“Knox,” I whisper, those memories still floating around in my mind, but some part of me needing to touch him.

He kisses my temple, takes my hand. “Rest, baby.”

“I—” I frown, the words slipping out of grasp.

“It’ll hold, lioness,” he whispers. “You can tell me later.”

Since I’m too exhausted to do anything else, I allow my eyes to close and sleep to take me under.

And I do so, the happy memories fill my mind again.

So, I sleep and sleep and sleep.

The next time I wake up, it’s to find Evie in bed next to me, watching her tablet.

Ella’s perched at the end of the mattress and her head swivels my direction the moment I try to sit up.

“Easy,” she murmurs, rounding the bed and slipping her arm beneath my shoulders. “Let me help you.” She tucks a pillow behind my back and passes me a cup. “Just water,” she says. “Knox is making a grocery run.”

A blip of guilt slides through me, but I shove it down.

“Thanks,” I rasp, my throat still feeling like the fires of hell, though at least my head is mostly clear. “What time is it?”

“Eleven in the morning.” A beat. “On Wednesday.”

My eyebrows fly up. “I’ve been out of it for two days?”

Ella’s mouth kicks up. “Afraid so.” Then she touches my forehead. “Nova’s in the kitchen, whipping us up a treat. Do you feel up to real food?”

My stomach rebels and regretfully, I shake my head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“So the Mama Adler special then?” She holds up the packet of saltines.

I nod. “I think that’s for the best.”

She passes a couple over to me. “I’ll get the Sprite.”

“Thanks, Ells.”

She smiles. “You’re family, Ivy. No thanks needed.”

My heart pulses, but I tuck those words close, right with the happy memories.

When she’s gone, I turn to my daughter. “Doing okay, baby girl?”

“Yup,” she says, and I can’t lie. It’s exceedingly nice to not be on my own right now. One look at Evie and I know she’s entered The Zone—the one that every mom dreads. She’s feeling better while I still feel like hell, and she’s been cooped up for days without school, without friends or dance or extracurriculars. The tablet is only going to keep her entertained for so long, and then she’ll be raring to go.

While I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.

But Ella’s here. And Nova.

And Knox is getting groceries.

My…family.

My heart skips a beat, even as the truth of that settles deep. Because, yeah, that’s what it’s supposed to be.

“Is your voice raspy because of the bruises?” Evie asks.

I still, hand coming up to my throat. The bruises have long healed. But my daughter has a long memory. “I…Honey…”

Her eyes fix on mine, and I know that I owe her the truth—or some form of it anyway.

“My throat’s sore from being sick, baby. The bruises are gone”—I pull my sweatshirt down—“and not to blame. You said your throat hurt too remember?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. But my voice didn’t sound like that.”

“That’s true.” My lips curve. “But I didn’t puke as much as you did. Remember?”

She nods again.

“Sometimes when people get sick, they feel bad in different ways.”

“Oh.”

I inhale.

Exhale.

And know I need to give her a little more about what happened. Because if she’s still thinking about it after all this time…it’s bothering her. I push down the blip of guilt, worrying her and?—

I don’t want my baby girl worrying.

“I know I told you I got hurt at work,” I say, weighing my words carefully, struggling to find the right ones to give her the truth without scaring her. “That’s true, but the full story is that someone there wasn’t very nice to me and tried to hurt me.”

Her eyes go wide.

Dammit.

But I press on.

“Kind of how James wasn’t nice to you, remember?”

Her fingers press lightly to the skin at the top of her cheek, where the black eye had extended. “I remember,” she whispers.

“And just like with James, things got worse before they got better.”

“Did Knox make it better too?”

Like he had with Ms. Hearst.

“Yeah, baby. He helped make it better. And like you did,” I add, needing to remind myself that I wasn’t just victim as much as I need her to remember her own courage, “I stood up for myself too, and now I don’t have to deal with the bully anymore.”

Her eyes hold mine, staring intently, clearly searching for the truth.

Then she pivots in typical kid fashion.

“‘Kay,” she says, and then, with all the aplomb of an elementary-aged kiddo, she moves right along, her focus returning to her tablet and the video playing on the screen.

But I’m not quite ready to let my baby go back to the brain rot, especially since I’ve been in and out of it for two freaking days. “Ella did a great job on your braids, honey.”

She deigns to glance at me. “Ella didn’t do them.”

“Oh,” I say, “I didn’t realize that Nova could braid.”

A shake of her head, the bows clipped to ends of her hair bouncing. “Nova didn’t do them either.”

My brows drag together and maybe I’m hazier than I realize. But nope, her hair has been carefully corralled into two neat braids that are hanging down her back and secured with bows that match her pjs.

Um.

Maybe she’s been bingeing YouTube videos and has gotten more skilled than me? Or Jolie came by for a bit? After all, she’s a hairstylist at the same salon that Ella works at. Or?—

Evie looks up again. “Knox did them after I took a shower,” she says before flopping back onto the pillow, her focus returning to her video.

My mouth opens. Closes.

Knox did them?

Knox?

But it’s not surprise that slides through me, not really, once I think about it.

Because of course he had fixed Evie’s hair, same as he fixed the situation at school, with Hiller, with The Plague.

With my heart.

I open my mouth again, not even sure what I want to ask?—

“He asked me to teach him a few weeks back,” I hear from the door, seeing Ella standing there with a bowl in one hand and a can of Sprite in the other. She walks toward me, her eyes as warm as her smile. “Said he’d need to know.” A beat. “For the future.”

My pulse speeds.

My mind races.

But…there’s no fear, no knot in my stomach, telling me that this will eventually go wrong.

Instead, my soul is happy.

My heart is full.

And the truth is bound to every cell.

“Of course he did,” I say softly.

Because that’s the man he is.

Because that’s the man I love.

I remember the words coming in my sleep, feeling them in my heart, my soul, but thinking them while I’m conscious? Not something I would have allowed even two days ago.

Right now? With all this beautiful truth surrounding me?

How can I not?

Because my love for him isn’t anything like what I’ve experienced before. And it’s nothing like what I used to think the emotion was. It certainly isn’t anything like what the people who hurt me in the past once held over me. Nor is it me desperately seeking any sliver of affection or kindness, no matter the cost. This a pure love, a safe love, a love that doesn’t hurt or wound or burn.

It’s braids for my daughter. A cool washcloth for my head.

Kind words. Listening hard. Food and dishes, texts and hugs.

Game Nights and sandwiches and taking care of us when we’re sick.

It’s making our own family, our own peace, our own future.

It’s us.

And somehow, because of all that, it’s not scary in the least.

But, also, somehow, because of all that , I know that I need to find the perfect way to tell him.

“Ells,” I begin. “I’m wondering if you might?—”

“Yes.”

I blink. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

A delicate shrug. “Doesn’t matter,” she says. “The answer’s still yes.”

“Thank—”

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “And there’ll be none of that either. I meant what I said the other day—you’re stuck with us. Just like I meant what I said this morning—no thanks is needed”

Family. Love. Safe.

Slip. Slip. Slide .

Or maybe… Slip. Slip. Stuck is more apropos.

My lips curve and Ella smiles back before she passes over the Sprite—stirred flat, exactly as what I’ve learned the Mama Adler Special calls for.

I sip and turn back to Evie, studying the even strands of her braid, the perfectly matched bows.

And I shake my head.

“How is it that everyone is better at braids than I am?”