Page 96 of Torn Ivy
“Hey,” I say softly. “How are you feeling?”
She sits up carefully, trying not to disturb Tate and Bram. “Like I’ve been hit by the world. Several worlds, really.” Her voice is rough with sleep. “How long was I out?”
“About six hours,” I reply. “Not nearly long enough, if you ask me.”
Ivy runs a hand through her tangled hair. “Any sign of Life or other cosmic fuckery while I was sleeping?”
I shake my head. “All quiet on the celestial front. For now.”
She nods, then fixes me with a penetrating stare. “You look like shit, Torin. Have you slept at all?”
“No,” I admit. “Too wired. Too many questions.”
Ivy crawls to the bottom of the bed and pats the space beside her. “Come here. Talk to me.”
I hesitate for a moment, then join her on the bed. Ivy leans against me, her warmth comforting.
“What’s on your mind?” Ivy asks softly.
I sigh, trying to organise my swirling thoughts. “Everything. Nothing. I keep replaying it all in my head. It feels impossible that we’re sitting here now, relatively unscathed.”
Ivy nods. “I know what you mean. Part of me still feels scattered across dimensions.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, studying her face. “Inside? Are you okay inside?”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering. “I’m not sure,” she admits finally. “How do I reconcile all of that with this?” She gestures to herself, to the room around us.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “One day at a time, I suppose. We’re here for you, Ivy. Whatever you need.”
She leans her head against my shoulder. “I know, and I’m grateful. I’m not the same person I was before all this.”
“None of us are,” I point out. “We’ve all been changed by what we’ve been through. Bram especially.”
She glances at him with a worried expression. “Yeah, he is not the same.”
“Do you still love him? Love us?” I blurt out, knowing this is a big part of my unease.
Ivy is quiet for a long moment, considering my question. I hold my breath, afraid of what her answer might be.
Finally, she speaks softly. “I do love you. All of you. But it’s different now. Deeper in some ways and more complicated in others. I’ve lived lifetimes and seen things beyond imagination. It’s changed me, changed how I see everything, including love.”
I nod, trying to process her words. “I can understand that. We can’t expect you to be exactly the same after all you’ve been through.”
She turns to look at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “But I’m afraid, Torin. I’m afraid that I’m too different now. That I won’t fit into this life anymore. I suppose the bigger question is: do you still love me?”
Frowning at her, I blink, surprised by her question.
“Of course I still love you,” I say firmly, cupping her face in my hands. “Ivy, nothing could change that. Not alternate realities, not cosmic forces, not anything.”
She leans into my touch, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Even if I’m not the same person you fell in love with?”
“You’re still you,” I insist. “The core of who you are—your strength, your compassion, your fiery spirit—that hasn’t changed. And that’s what I fell in love with.”
She nods, then surprises me by leaning in and kissing me softly. It’s a bittersweet kiss, tinged with relief and lingering fear.When she pulls back, there’s a spark of her old mischief in her eyes.
“You know,” she says, “I seem to remember a pretty hot encounter in that fractured reality. Care for a replay?”
I grin, feeling some of the tension ease. “Always. But what about sleeping beauty and the dark prince over there?”
