Page 83 of Pumped

Ivy scrunches up her face until she almost looks like she’s snarling. The whine she lets out is a little better than a dying animal.

“Where do you want to have your birthday party, Ivy?” Owen demands.

Birthday party? How the hell did they get from swimming lessons to her birthday party?

“I thought we were having it here?” I didn’t even know there was another option. We’ve got a huge backyard and Owen was looking into getting one of those inflatable bouncy castles.

“I don’twannahave my birthday here!” Ivy shouts so loud, I do take a step back this time.

Owen’s hands are curled into fists so tight his knuckles have gone white. His eyes are closed and… is that a tear gathering on his lashes? Shit. This is… this is bad.

I walk around the table and pull out the chair next to Ivy’s. “Ives, hey, why don’t you want to have your party here?” I ask gently.

“I just don’t!” There’s a wobble in her voice that sends up alarm bells.

Owen’s on the verge of tears. Ivy’s about to break down in sobs. How the hell did we go from a happy little family to this?

“Hey, hey.” I put my arm around Ivy’s shoulders and thank fucking god she doesn’t shrug me off. “It’s okay. We don’t have tohave it here. We can have the party in the park? Or like, a Chuck E. Cheese? There are plenty of places.

“No! No! No!” She bounces in her seat like she’s trying to stomp her foot.

“Ivy! Inside voice!” Owen barks at her and I wince. That’s going to set her off.

And just as I’m thinking it, Ivy starts wailing.

“No!” Her cry is a knife straight through my heart.

I want to gather her into my arms, cradle her in my lap, and rock her side-to-side until she settles again. But instead, she pushes her chair away from the kitchen table with a loud scrape and jumps to her feet. “You can’t tell me what to do! I don’t have to listen to you! I hate you! I hate you! You’re not my daddy!”

CHAPTER

THIRTY

OWEN

I blink.

Did I— Did she?—

Then it hits me. Like a sword straight through my gut, twisting, slicing through me.

You’re not my daddy.

Ivy’s small footsteps reverberate through the house, then the sound of a door opening and the unmistakable noise of the city.

I spin around in the chair, not believing what my ears are telling me.

“Ivy?” Everest is already out of his seat. “Ivy!” He races around the table and out of the kitchen. I’m hot on his heels, running flat out for the foyer.

The front door is standing open and so is the outer door of the vestibule. My stomach drops through the floor and my heart jumps into my throat.

No. No, this can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This has to be some sort of twisted nightmare.

I smash into Everest at the top of the stoop. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know! I can’t see her!”

We scan the sidewalk in both directions, but there’s no sign of a small blond head. There isn’t the pitter-patter of small footsteps pounding down the concrete. No flash of pink from the flouncy skirt she’s wearing.

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