Page 49 of Fractured Loyalties
“My dad used to love the rain,” Ivy suddenly blurts out. “He’d open all the windows in the house and just let it in, even if itmade everything wet. He said the sound was better than music. It was so crazy. Like, who does that?”
I bite down on my lip, forcing myself not to ruin it with a joke as her demeanor seems to lighten a little bit.
“He’d make pancakes every Sunday morning,” Ivy continues, staring ahead. “He always burned them. The kitchen would be a disaster, flour everywhere, and he’d just laugh. He thought it was hilarious, making a mess.” Her mouth twitches, but it’s not a smile. “Sometimes, when it was just us, we’d sit on the porch and eat the burnt ones. Didn’t matter how bad they tasted.”
She pauses and rubs her palm under her nose, then wipes it on her jeans. “I haven’t eaten pancakes since he died. Not even once.”
Something in my chest shifts, and I can’t stop myself.
“My mother hated the rain,” I say, my tone painfully soft. “She hated how it made the garden smell like dirt instead of roses.”
Ivy turns, surprise flickering through the sadness. “You remember that?”
I nod, taking a long breath. “She was never a fan of things that got dirty.” I clear my throat, shifting in the seat. “She left when I was ten. She promised she’d be back for me in two weeks. That was the last I ever saw her. I don’t blame her for it.”
Why the fuck am I sharing this?
Ivy’s eyes remain on my face. “Did you wait for her? Past the two weeks?”
It’s a strange question, but I answer it. “Every day. For a year, maybe more. After a while, I realized nobody was ever coming.” I force myself to laugh, but it comes out warped and hard. “After that, I started breaking the windows myself. If you’re not allowed to see the world, you might as well wreck it.”
She picks at the hem of her dress, her nails scraping over the black silk. “My dad never let me break anything. He was… I thinkhe was scared I’d become like her. Like my mom. I sometimes wonder if her hardness is genetic.”
I shake my head, staring at the streaks of water as the city gives way to trees. “No one’s born like this. Things happen to make us this way.”
“Sometimes I want to break things,” Ivy says, her words almost inaudible over the rain.
I catch her eye and give her a ghost of a smile. “Well… if you ever need to break something, I think I know a guy.”
She huffs out a giggle that does something to my dick. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
You should. Then we can break things together. Or maybe just break each other.
Twenty
IVY
Roman went straightto his room as soon as we got back to the estate.
I should be relieved he hasn’t come to bother me, but instead, I’m…frustrated.
And now I can’t sleep. Not with my heart doing high-voltage palpitations, not with the echo of Roman’s voice in my ear, and not with the way my whole body still aches with want and shame and some ugly, mutating thing that isn’t quite either.
He said he’d break things for me…And I think I want that thing to be me.
“Something is wrong with me,” I mutter under my breath, running my hands over my face as I lie and stare at the ceiling. The house is so quiet that it’s a negative. My room is black, lit only by the digital clock’s red stare and the wash of moonlight from the window.
I want him.The thought echoes like a disease in my mind, and I fight it for all of five minutes.
Then I get up.
I slip out of bed and pad across the floor, not even bothering to put on slippers. My breath fogs in my chest as I pause atmy own door, listening for anything, any creak or shuffle. But there’s nothing. No one is creeping in on me tonight.
Though the memory of that creepy silhouette causes me to shudder.
I open the door, ignoring the part of me that’s screaming this is a bad idea. I step into the hall, bare feet against the chilled floors.
Roman’s room is in the opposite wing, and I make the walk as quietly as possible. I count each step, trying to trick myself into thinking it’s just a walk, just a midnight wander, and not a headlong sprint into whatever fire he’s set in my blood.
