“What’s going on?” I said, softly, trying to coax it out of her.
Her words broke me in half. My world stopping moving. “I don’t think you and I are going to work.”
One minute passed without a single peep from either of us.
The next minute passed and I lowered my hand.
The third minute went by and…nothing.
I was giving her time to explain. I was giving her time to break out in laughter because there was no fucking way she was being serious.
But she was.
I saw it in her eyes.
I watched the sparkle and glimmer she had when staring at me disappear. It damn-near killed me.
“Why?” I finally asked, still not fully believing what was happening.
My heart twisted in my chest with every breath she took. It felt like it was being wrung out every few seconds, as if someone had a hold of it and was squeezing it until I just gave in and stopped fighting the feeling of pure despair trying to suffocate me.
Her voice wobbled as she stepped back through the threshold of Becca’s tiny house. “I just don’t think we can be anything more than friends. I need some time.”
She could barely get the words out, and I studied her so fucking hard I could probably carve a sculpture of her with my eyes shut.
She was lying.
Flat-out lying to me.
I knew when she was lying and she was.
Even as kids, she was a shit liar. Her nose would twitch, her small nostrils flaring just slightly. Her eyes would dart to the side and her mouth would form a straight line.
She was lying… but why?
I stepped back with one foot, then the other. Never taking my eyes of her.
She finally brought her head up and I could see it clearly; she was utterly broken.
This wasn’t right.
Ivy was forced away from me six years ago, it was inevitable. We were too young to truly do anything about it.
But now?
I’d be fucking damned if she was taken away from me this time.
There was no going back now.
I told her I would never stop chasing her, and I always keep my word.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ivy
“What in the actual hell, Ivy!” Becca shouted, throwing her hands over her mouth.
I knew I could trust Becca. I had trusted her six years ago when I left. I had begged her not to tell Dawson anything, and I knew that if I asked her to keep another secret, she’d do it, and I had to tell someone.