Ivy

“ I was yours to command.”

I replay that little, huge, comment over and over again in my mind as Alder chats with Knox, and they get the car seat settled into the backseat. I wave at Hazel, who’s in her dad’s arms. He’s holding her up on his hip, instructing Alder what to do and what to absolutely not do while Hazel is in his care.

“You don’t take your eyes off her for a second,” Knox threatens Alder.

“Like that’s possible. Look at her,” he replies, smiling and reaching for his niece. She babbles something, but I catch Muncle Aldie in there somewhere. I grin. They have such a fun sibling relationship. I wonder what my life would have been like if I would have had a sibling of my own. We probably would have hated each other or competed for Daddy’s attention. That neither of us would have gotten.

With Hazel strapped safely into her car seat, we are driving out to the Holloway family home. Shopping was more fun than I thought it would be. Spending time with Alder has also proven to be more fun than expected. Seeing him with his niece is turning my hard and sharp edges into a pile of ooey gooey feelings. I flip my visor down to check my face, hoping I won’t find evidence of the mall pretzel I devoured in thirty seconds. In the mirror, I see Hazel in her seat. She’s kicking her little feet and looking at her second hot chocolate, the one that Knox said was not allowed.

My heart squeezes looking at her. She really is such a lovely little girl. I can see why the Holloway family fights over her affections. The emotion that stirs up is painful, but at the same time, knowing how cared for Hazel is loosens something in my chest. I don't need a therapist to tell me I have daddy issues. I’ve had a therapist tell me that, but I didn't need to spend the thousands of dollars I have to know that’s where the heart of all my issues stems from. Poor , a rich girl who grew up in a big house with any material thing or comfort she could ever dream up. How very on-brand…but money doesn’t equate to love.

In fact, I’ve found the opposite to be true 100 percent in my life. My father doesn’t love me, and my mother left me with him before I was eating solid foods. So it’s a double whammy in the issues department.

I wouldn’t have made a good mother anyway.

A derisive snort escapes me, and Hazel’s chocolate-brown eyes meet mine. I smile and she smiles shyly back to me. Impulsively, I stick my tongue out to the side and widen my eyes at her, and she giggles the sweetest giggle that makes one bubble out of me.

Alder turns his head toward me with a wide smile curving his perfect lips. “What’s so funny, girls?”

“Funny face, Muncle Aldie!” Hazel squeals to her uncle .

“ made a funny face at you?” he asks her.

“Yes!” she says, giggling again, then turning back to her hot chocolate as if it’s the most prized possession she’s ever owned. We turn onto a side road about fifteen minutes from downtown. This must be where we’re dropping Hazel off. I blush when Alder looks over at me. Man, I’m really going overboard for this kid. I’m generally not a make-funny-faces kind of girl.

“All of us have done it,” he tells me. His voice is full of warmth.

“Done what?” I pretend to be oblivious in asking, but he just chuckles.

“Let your hair down, princess. No one’s judging you here.” I hear his words, but I don’t think he understands that I’ve been judged my whole life. Whether I am or am not a bitch, I’ll be called one. If I’m overly friendly or smile too much, then I’m brainless. Expectations and other people’s ideals have been projected onto me since I was Hazel’s age. That doesn’t change overnight. A big, beautiful house comes into view, and Alder parks us right out front.

“Hair is down, Lover Boy. Do you need your eyes checked?” I tease, and he grins at me, that dimple in full effect before opening his door, the cold night air swirls inside the truck now.

“I see you just fine, .” Is his response before shutting his door and opening Hazel’s to retrieve her from the backseat. I’m left wondering if he’s seen a little behind the thin veil I have left with him, then I roll my eyes at myself. It’s doubtful Alder hasn’t glimpsed anything I haven’t wanted him to. Wouldn’t it be nice for someone to really see me, all the ugly parts, and still want to spend their time with me? Just because they want to because they like what they see .

“Come on, Hazey baby, let’s get you inside. It’s getting colder, and you know what?” he asks her excitedly.

“What, what?” she asks him.

“Nana made cookies and has all your stuffies for your sleepover!” he reveals, and she claps her little hands.

“Out! Out!” she commands him while he unbuckles her from her seat. I’m startled from mindlessly watching Alder be even more annoyingly endearing by a knock on my window. It makes me jump, and I turn to see Alder's mother covering her mouth, and I’m sure laughter, with her hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says, holding up both hands. I turn the handle, manually rolling down the window.

“Hi, sorry. I’m not usually this jumpy,” I tell her.

“No, no. This one’s on me, sweetie. I just wanted to come out and ask if you had plans for the holiday.” Oh. I really don’t want to tell her the truth, that my plans are to drink mimosas and be alone.

I smile at her and say, “I’m not sure yet.”

“Will you be in town?” she presses as Alder carries Hazel inside, wrapped up in a blanket.

“Buh-bye!” she calls out to me.

“Bye, Hazey!” I call back, her nickname coming out so easily.

“Well, if you are in town and have no other plans, we would love for you to spend it here with us,” she says as she taps her hands on the window frame and turns to walk back inside.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I tell her, my voice sounding just a little choked. She gives me a smile over her shoulder and waves. I don't think I’ve ever been invited over to someone’s home for a holiday. Emotion clogs my throat for the second time this evening. It’s…nice. To be included in someone’s plans. It’s not something I’m used to, and although the concept isn’t that difficult to wrap my head around…it is hard for me to accept it’s being extended to me.

I crank my window back up and watch as flakes start to drift around above. Taking a quick peek back at the house to make sure Alder hasn’t come back out yet, I slip out of the Bronco and admire the tree all lit up in the big window of the Holloway’s home. I turn around, looking out over the rolling hills leading to the base of the mountains and take a deep breath in. It’s cold and hurts my lungs a little. It’s not like I’ve never seen snow before but starting at age ten, I spent most of my time at the boarding school in sunny Southern California.

I chance another glance back to the house, and when I don’t see anyone again, I tentatively tip my head back and stick out my tongue. I catch a couple of the small flakes on it and start laughing. This is something I’ve seen done on TV more times than I can count. It’s so childish. I do it again, this time spinning in a circle. On my second revolution, I catch movement near the railing of the stairs and come to a stuttering stop.

“Having fun?” Alder calls from his spot on the porch, amused.

“Yeah,” I say. I’m kind of interested in hearing what he’s thinking. The way he’s looking at me is very unfamiliar. Not bad , but not something I’m used to, that’s for sure.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells me, and I feel heat creep up my neck.

“You’re charming,” I say with an eye roll.

He smiles. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Stormcloud.” I hope he can’t see my blush under the cover of the night sky. Wishful thinking. The next words out of his mouth confirm as much.

“The blush you're sporting is going to give me the wrong idea, .” His eyes sparkle like sapphires in the glow coming from the house. It’s unfair really. He’s so beautiful. And as much as I wish he could be, he’s just not for me.

“I’m not blushing,” I deny. It's a lie, but I need him to understand. “But if I was, that’s exactly what it would be, just so you know,” I say slowly, wanting him to hear me. Things may get a little confusing over the next couple of weeks. “The wrong idea,” I finish my sentence.

“Is that right?” he drawls. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you aren’t blushing then.” He walks to my side—the passenger side, not mine—I remind myself. Nothing here is mine, especially anything having to do with Alder. He opens the door, and I walk over to get back in. As I’m brushing past him to get to my seat, he lifts a hand and runs it through my hair. I fight the impulse not to lean into his warm, callused palm. I slowly pull my head back, neither of us saying a word. I slip into my seat, and he shuts me in. I’m trying not to think too long about how good it feels to have him touching me.

The drive to the grocery store is quiet in an unexpectedly soft way. More often than not, I’m finding time spent with Alder is a balm to my perpetual flight or fight response. There are no more questions about my family history or life before coming to Silverthorne, which is appreciated. Being vulnerable isn’t something I’ve mastered, and I'm out of my depth here. I’m actually getting a little annoyed that on more than one occasion now, he’s mentioned that he sees me or thinks he has me figured out. There’s not much more to me than what you see on the surface anymore. Life, and the people I’ve allowed to be in mine have helped see to that.

I don’t remember a time in my life when I tried to be something or someone I wanted to be, and I wasn’t immediately told I couldn’t be it. My dreams and aspirations were always presented to me as unrealistic. By five years old, most of my little girl dreams were dashed. I wasn’t talented enough to be a painter. I wasn’t coordinated enough to be a dancer. I had long limbs even then. I’ve never been clumsy, but I don’t think I’ve ever had rhythm either. My father is a brutally honest man. Receiving criticism growing up was expected but still hurtful. He may have never physically hit me, but his words felt a lot like weapons when they hit their mark. I think that’s how I ended up with Noah. He’s not an old man by any means, but I think I was searching for approval in people and places I had no business searching. Noah’s attention was a welcome change to the indifference I felt from my father.

“I don’t want to rush you too much, but I think they’re wrong about the storm moving in tomorrow. I think it’s going to be here tonight.” I’m snapped out of my self-pitying thoughts by Alder’s deep timbre. I look around and notice we’ve parked. Right in front of the grocery store.

“Sorry. Yeah, I can be fast. You don’t have to come in with me if you don’t want to. I’ll be quick,” I tell him, possibly needing a few minutes to compose myself. It’s not often I let my thoughts drift, yet it seems to happen a lot with him. I file that information away to pull out to analyze later when I’m alone.

“I need to get a few things myself; I don’t mind coming in with you,” he says, turning off the truck and making his way around the front of it. I let out a sigh and then open my door. He’s standing by it, waiting for me and asks, “What’s on your list?”

“I need some fruit and cheese. Oranges and chocolate. I may also need some frozen meals,” I ramble off my mental list to him.

“Frozen meals? Like lasagna?”

“Yeah. Possibly some popcorn chicken. A bag of frozen fries. How long do you think we’ll be stuck? Maybe I’ll get a couple of bags of fries. And some bacon. I think I need more coffee beans.” I really am rambling now.

“, I know it’s none of my business…” That sentence never goes anywhere good. “But you have low blood sugar. Hypoglycemia.” Oh, so now he’s going to try and be invested in my health. I internally and externally roll my eyes.

“You know that I do because I told you that I did.” That was probably the bitchiest response I could have spewed, but he just smirks. His hair slips over his eyes just a little, and I’m dying to smooth it back with my fingers. No, I’m not.

“Do you think you should be getting some things that would help you maintain a little more even blood sugar level?” His question sounds a lot like my doctor the first time I ended up back at the hospital, and I appreciate it about as much as I did then.

“I have been living with this on my own for the last five years, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I am still alive.” I put just enough sarcasm into the statement to sound annoyed and pissed off.

“Noted, .”

“And what are you? A doctor? Me thinks he’s watched too many Grey’s Anatomy episodes.” He stops in the aisle and turns to look at me. I’ve successfully riled him up, and it’s much less satisfying than I thought it would be.

“Or maybe…and I’m just spitballing here. His sister has low iron, so he is observant of people's diets and how they can improve their quality of life.” He winks and then continues to walk ahead of me. I don’t feel as bad now. He’s too good-natured. It’s jarring and unfamiliar. I open my mouth to tell him that I’m not his sister, and those aren’t exactly the same thing, but he starts talking again. “Oh, and also, I am EMS certified,” he throws over his shoulder, walking to grab a cart. That pulls me up a little short, my doctor argument now seems a little flimsy.

We walk beside each other in the small grocery store, and I shouldn’t find it as attractive as I do when he pulls out these little pocket-size reusable bags from his coat pocket for me to put my produce in. There’s something so exotically domestic about sharing a shopping cart and reusable bags. The easy rhythm we fall into is altogether the closest I’ve felt to another person in a long time and also the most annoying thing that’s happened in just as long. I like how I feel when I’m with Alder. I also don’t want to feel the way I do about him. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to deal with conflicting emotions.

I glance his way and am hit all over again by his profile. He’s handsome in a way that women notice him as we walk by. That’s not something you see in real life often. Southern California definitely has its charms and its fair share of beautiful men. But Alder is rugged in a way that makes me want to crawl into his lap and snuggle in for the long winter. Those are the thoughts that I need to lock away. I don’t need any more thoughts about him. I need to keep my head down and focus on my objective. I’ll be gone before all this snow melts, and that’s exactly how I need it to be.

“All done, princess?” he asks. Even after explaining that nickname, I’m definitely not sold on it. That could be a good thing though. Something else about him that annoys me.

“I’m done, Search and Rescue,” I tell him, shaking my head. He reaches into his pocket, and I hear metal clinking, then he extends his hand to me and offers me his keys.

“Wanna go start the truck, and I’ll get the groceries?” The way my body and mind have just reacted to the most innocent sentence should be studied. I know that I should fight him on this. I should pay for my own groceries, but I feel my stomach tighten and my legs squeeze together. Why is that attractive? I take his keys with a sure and make my way out to his green Bronco. There’s already a layer of snow covering it. It’s thin, but I’m starting to get nervous that we won’t make it back up the mountain.

The truck is started and warming up, and Alder appears at the back, opening the hatch. I unbuckle to help him load up, but he stops me. “I can get this loaded. Just keep doing what you’re doing.” He tells me, and it confuses me because I’m not doing anything.

“And that would be?” I ask, confused.

“Sitting in the front seat of my Bronco, looking so pretty it hurts.”