Fire, page 12
He deserves better than this.
Carefully, I lift one of his arms, doing my best to slip out of bed without waking him. Groaning, he pulls me close again, still mostly asleep, then lifts his head. “Ives?” His voice is thick and gravelly, his hair tousled, his eyes barely open.
“Go back to sleep, Mi. I’m just heading back to my room.”
“But you just got here.” He runs a hand along my back. “Stay, Ivy. Don’t go.”
“I don’t think…” I clear my throat, suddenly very aware of how big a mistake we just made. “I mean…there’s a lot going on.”
I don’t have a job. I haven’t told Julian the break is permanent. Nell doesn’t know Micah’s her dad. Plus, there’s still so much for the two of us to work through. We’ve only been back in each other’s lives for a few days. Sex is a complication we don’t need.
“Yeah.” Micah clears his throat and sits up. “I get that. The timing probably isn’t good for you, and there’s a lot to figure out. We’re right about the whole one-time thing deal.” He flashes me two thumbs up that feel more like he’s giving me the bird.
“Micah…”
“You go on to bed. I’m…uh…I think I’m gonna go for a swim. I’m up now. My head’s filled with…well, with us and what we just did and what it means. I’m gonna work some of this out in the pool.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, everything in me softening. The last thing I wanted was to make things harder than they already are.
“It’s fine, Ives. I promise.” Micah swings his legs off the bed, elbows on knees, head in his hands. “Go on upstairs. Everything will be better in the morning.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ivy
I brace at the top of the stairs, forearm on the wall, head on my arm, one finger tracing my lips. I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I slept with Micah.
And I can’t believe it was that good. I can’t believe I’m not still in his bed, doing it again.
Wait, what? No. I can’t be thinking like that. Sleeping with Micah was a one-time thing. It has to be.
The timing couldn’t be worse. Jumping out of a terrible relationship right into another—no matter how good it could be—is a bad idea. A monstrously bad idea.
It wouldn’t be fair to Micah. To me. To Nell. I need to focus on who I am and what I want. I mean, do I even know what I want, yet? I thought I did, but after that? I’m not so sure anymore.
I need to remember how to be me before I can be with someone else. Especially if that someone else is Micah. Everything between us is difficult enough without adding sex into the mix. Especially toe-curling, mind-altering, am-I-really-still-in-my-body-or-have-I-transcended-reality sex like what just happened downstairs.
Julian could barely stand to look at me when we were intimate. He says the stretch marks from the pregnancy are gross. That he can’t get in the mood when he sees them. There aren’t very many, but he hated the pale scars on my hips, belly, and breasts so much that I did everything I could to erase them. Lotions, creams, diets. I tried losing weight, hoping they’d fade, but he could never stand to look at me in the light.
I push off the wall and head into the office, stare at that stupid uncomfortable cot then move to the window instead of setting it up. Micah’s in the pool, his arms slicing through the water, pulling his body forward. His muscles flex and twist with the movement. The boy I left was big for his age, but still a boy. I never dreamed he’d grow into the man in front of me. A man I really don’t know anymore. So obviously the best choice was to jump into bed and have the best sex of my life the first night of sharing a house together.
Talk about chaotic decisions.
Outside, Micah reaches the edge of the pool and tucks into a ball, pushing off the wall to start another lap while water surges around him. I remember that energy. The way frustration used to build in him until he needed a physical outlet. I know I’m the reason he’s out there now. Part of me wants to go to him, to apologize, to do whatever it takes to make sure he’s happy, but that’s the kind of thinking that let my relationship with Julian devolve.
I won’t be like that anymore.
Not with anyone, and especially not with Micah.
I’d planned to call Julian today and tell him I’m not coming back to Seattle. It’s time he knows my ring is off and I intend on keeping it that way—especially after what I just did. But it’s just after one in the morning here, which means it’s ten pm for him. He’s in bed, glasses on, checking email one last time before he turns off the light. If I call him now and interrupt his evening ritual, it’ll make an already difficult conversation ten times harder. Everything’s easier if I do it on his time.
Tomorrow’s Sunday, which means he sleeps until eight, then goes for a run. I’ll call him at nine, after his run but before his shower. The golden hour. The sliver of time when he doesn’t have a plan or an agenda, when he’s too worn out to get upset over little things.
I stare at the cot, but I’m nowhere close to tired and the urge to talk to someone is overwhelming. I consider my mom, but that’s a can of worms I’d rather not open. Instead, I text Grandma. With her insomnia the way it is, she’s probably as desperate for a distraction as I am. Unless she wasn’t joking about the men, and she has a guest…
Laughing, I push that thought away as I draft a text. I’m still not prepared to know that much about her sex life.
We’re all tucked in here. Had a nice day. Micah’s been…well…very Micah about the whole thing
I don’t have to wait long for her reply.
I’ve been thinking of you all day! Do you have time for a quick chat?
Smiling, I initiate a call, then fill her in on everything that happened, right up to the conversation in the kitchen that led to a mind-blowing romp in Micah’s bed—though I stop before letting that piece of information fly.
That one’s just for me. Something to hold on to when I want to remember how it feels when a man cares for a woman.
“I’m sensing hesitation here, Ivy. Did something go wrong?”
“I’m not sure ‘wrong’ is the word I’d use.” I pull back the curtain and watch Micah glide through the water. “Weird for sure. Maybe good?”
Definitely good. But also definitely complicated.
“You walked in on him naked, didn’t you?”
“Grandma!” I laugh and let the curtain fall. “No! What is it with you and your obsession with sex stuff?”
“For one, maybe you’re too uptight about sex stuff and for two, you’re gonna have to let me live vicariously through you. At least a little. I’m dying to know how much of that calendar was Photoshop and how much is him.”
I pull back the curtain once again. The way the lights illuminate the pool makes it clear Photoshop was not involved when it comes to Micah’s body. “You’re going to have to be patient on that topic. We’ve only just started to get to know each other again.”
His lips on mine.
His hands sliding low on my back.
Fist tight in my hair.
His low groan of pleasure as he slid inside me.
“You sound like you’re smiling,” Grandma says.
And would you look at that? I am. “It’s been a nice day.”
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve heard you say that?”
I think back through all the conversations the two of us have had since I moved back to the Keys, then through everything that happened since Dad got the job in Seattle. “It’s been a while.”
“It’s been too long.”
“I’m not sure what it is that has me smiling…” My gaze goes to the window again and I let out a long breath. “That’s not true. That’s the kind of stuff I say when I’m afraid I’ll be criticized for how I feel.”
“Atta girl,” Grandma says with pride. “So tell me, what’s making you happy, Ivy?”
I watch as Micah pulls himself out of the pool, water running down his body. He glances up and his gaze meets mine. It’s too late to pretend I wasn’t watching, so I lift a hand.
He returns the gesture.
“It’s Micah, Grandma,” I say, breathless, leaning against the wall. “It’s always been Micah.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Micah
Morning light peeks through the slats in my blinds. Whispered conversation and soft laughter wafts in from the kitchen on the other side of my closed door, with the scent of pancakes and bacon not far behind. What a strange thing, to hear Ivy in there with our daughter, when just a few days ago, Tucker was saying I’m ages from having kids. It’s like I’ve been dropped into an alternate reality, where Ivy never moved. Where we grew up together. Our love strengthened. Our daughter is ours instead of just hers and one-time things are all-the-time things.
I keep my eyes closed, letting myself enjoy the daydream just a little longer.
“You’re being fucking stupid,” I mutter, running a hand down my face. That isn’t an alternate reality out there. It is reality. Maybe things didn’t work out as picture perfect as they do in stories, but Ivy and Nell are right there, in the kitchen, while I waste minutes lying in bed. Time to get up and get out there.
“Who’s in my kitchen?” I call in my deepest, grumpiest voice.
“It’s us!” Nell’s sweet voice brings a smile to my face. “We’re makin’ breakfast!”
I roll over and press my nose to Ivy’s pillow, breathing in the lingering scent of her perfume.
One-time thing, my ass.
After what happened last night, I won’t be able to keep my hands off her. Her taste. Her touch. The way her body fit mine so fucking perfectly, silky and warm and fuck I want her again. Right here. Right now. I’d bend her over my dresser and bury myself inside because how can something that good be a one-time thing?
Because, whispers the voice of reason, she’s just getting out of a shitty relationship and whatever this is between you is complicated as fuck. Because she’s your dream woman and you’ve been her enemy until just a few fucking days ago and falling into bed again is the last thing either of you needs. Regardless, my cock hardens at the thought of Ivy naked and moaning beneath me.
I’ve never been good at listening to reason.
Throwing back the covers, I drop my feet to the floor, then stand and head for my dresser to pull on some joggers.
A light knock sounds at the door.
“I’ll be—”
Right out, is what I’m about to say, except Ivy doesn’t wait that long. She opens the door and steps in, carrying a tray of breakfast with Nell blissfully tucked away behind her. And thank God for that because I sleep in briefs. Which means I’m standing in briefs. With my dick still not the least bit interested in listening to reason.
Ivy’s jaw drops, as does her gaze…right to my goods. “Oh!”
She reaches back to cover Nell’s eyes.
“Sorry! Sorry!” She’s backing up while I laugh.
“As I was about to say, I’ll be right out.”
The door clicks shut, and I drag my hands down my face, smiling because I saw the way Ivy looked at me. I saw the appreciation in her eyes.
And I liked it.
After I get dressed and spend some time in the bathroom, I join Ivy and Nell in the kitchen. There’s a plate for me, filled with pancakes, bacon, and eggs beside a cup of steaming coffee.
Nell waves happily when she sees me. “We made you breakfast.”
“And we’re so sorry to barge in on you like that,” Ivy says, looking equal parts ashamed and delighted. “I promise it won’t happen again. You could say it’s a one-time thing.” She grins as her cheeks blaze red and damn it, I’m starting to hate that phrase almost as much as I hate the idea of us just being friends. Ivy’s never been “just” anything.
“Mama said you were in your underwear but I didn’t see. Here.” Nell pats the table beside my plate. “It’s real good, I promise. Mommy let me do the pancake flipping.”
I sit, my eyes bouncing to Ivy, who definitely did see something. She makes an apologetic face and mouths, “Sorry about that.”
I wave her apology away. It’s not like I’m ashamed of her seeing something she reacquainted herself with last night. Besides, we made a whole person together. The time for modesty has passed.
Smiling, I grab a fork and dig in. “Oh my goodness gracious!” I widen my eyes and make a big deal of rubbing my belly as I chew. “These are literally the best pancakes I’ve ever had. Whoever did the flipping knew exactly what they were doing.”
“It was me! I did the flipping!” Nell wiggles in her seat happily. “I was real careful to do it just like Mommy said. I only broked one but it still tasted good.”
She chatters away as I eat, and this odd warmth settles into my heart. This sense of purpose and fulfillment. I could get used to this. The three of us together.
Breakfasts and shopping and Ivy’s breasts bouncing as I bury myself inside…
Except, she didn’t even stay with me last night, sneaking out of my room like a shitty one-night stand instead. And my skin still smells like chlorine from a midnight swim born of frustration after she left. The good feelings I woke up with start to slip away. This isn’t some sweet daydream where I end up with the woman I always loved, and we raise our daughter together in marital bliss.
This is a clusterfuck of confusion.
“So, I work tomorrow,” I say, physically shaking the thoughts away. “I’m usually out of here by six fifteen, so I don’t know if our paths will cross while you’re getting ready for school or not. I’m home by seven thirty the next morning, but then I usually fall into bed for a few hours.”
Ivy picks off the tiniest bite of pancake and slips it into her mouth. “We won’t be awake before you leave tomorrow, but we’ll be up and moving when you get home the next day. We’ll be quiet as a mouse getting ready for the bus so you can sleep, won’t we Nell?”
“A nonamouse.” She giggles and Ivy joins in. They explain the joke while I finish breakfast, then Nell goes upstairs to play, leaving me alone with her mother. Ivy pops up from the table, grabbing my plate.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I mean for the question to be light, playful even, but her body instantly goes on alert, like she’s preparing for battle.
“The dishes.”
Shit. Is she this tense because of what happened last night? Or does this have more to do with that asshole fiancé of hers? I hate it either way.
“Nope. Not happening,” I say, voice gentle, moving slowly, doing everything I can to calm her nerves and let her know she’s safe. “You cooked. I clean.”
Ivy shakes her head. “It’s the least I can do, considering everything you’ve done for us.”
“Sit.” I point at the chair. “You’re a guest, not a maid.” And you’re you and I’m me and how did I ever talk myself into believing we could be “just friends.”
Ivy sits while I turn on the tap, letting the water run to warm up. “I’m usually the one cooking for other people, so waking up to breakfast was a nice change of pace.”
“You cook? For other people? Aren’t you the guy who burned macaroni when we were fifteen?”
“It’s part of the job,” I say, purposefully avoiding the fact that I forgot a pot of pasta until the water boiled off and the noodles were charred and smoking. “We cook together. Eat together. Work out together.”
“Save lives together.”
I shrug off the compliment. “That’s the strangest thing about my job. We actively hope to never use the skills we train the most.” I explain about learning to cook and finding some measure of peace in providing good food for the other firefighters, then ramble on about the EMT training, and all the other skills I never thought I’d learn.
“Tomorrow is one of my favorite things, community outreach. Going to the schools, talking about fire safety, letting the kids tour the truck. I love it. They’re so enthusiastic. So real. They’re not jaded or worried about what they’re supposed to do and be. They just are who they are, and I seriously dig that. I leave the school feeling like I made an impact, like maybe, if the worst happens and one of those kids is caught in a fire, they’ll know what to do and won’t end up hurt.”
Ivy is quiet, staring at me with this strange look in her eyes as I finish the dishes.
“What?” I turn off the water and dry my hands. “Did I say something stupid?”
“Dad always said Nell was better off not having you in her life. He was so wrong.”
I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that. He was wrong. I deserved a chance to be in Nell’s life and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she’s better now that I am. Fuck Franklin Cole for everything he did to shove a wedge between us. And while I’m at it, fuck Ivy for listening to him and fuck me for not trying harder to get a hold of her and fuck one-time things and fuck awkward breakfasts, and just fuck this whole stupid disaster of a situation.
“Did she ever hear your dad say those things?” My voice is quiet, my attention on my hands as I hang the towel back on the stove. “Does she think her father’s worthless?”
Ivy shakes her head. “He never said any of that around Nell. That was for me and me alone.”
“But what did you tell her about me?” I can barely bring myself to meet Ivy’s eyes. I’m not even sure I want to hear her answer.
“I told her there are all kinds of families in the world. That some are big with mommies and daddies and brothers and sisters, and that others are small. I left it at that and hoped I’d have something better to say when she got older and asked tougher questions.”
