Page 90 of Only Mine
We stand facing each other, the rushing creek providing white noise for all the things we’re not saying.
“I just...” Saint looks away, his profile sharp against the backdrop of autumn trees. “I spent two hours thinking I’d lost her.”
The open fear in his voice makes my heart throb. I want to touch him, to offer comfort, but the distance between us feels wider than the creek.
“She said Erin told her I’d forgotten about her,” I say softly.
Saint’s head snaps back to me. “What?”
“Among other things. Apparently, she’s also critiquing Ivy’s art.’“
A muscle jumps under his eye. “I’ll handle that.”
“She misses me, Saint.” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite my sweater. “And I miss her.”
His eyes search mine so thoroughly, I feel like my soul was just examined. “Just her?”
The question, those two simple words, sends a tingle all the way from my head to my toes.
“No,” I admit, holding his gaze. “Not just her.”
Saint takes a half step toward me. “Wrenley…”
“Papa!” Ivy calls from her tree. “Can Miss Wrenley come back with us? Please?”
Saint’s expression shutters again, professional mask sliding back into place. “We need to get you back to school, Ivy.”
“But it’s almost lunchtime! Can’t we have lunch with Miss Wrenley instead?”
I see the refusal forming on his lips and jump in before he can crush her. “I should get back anyway. I have some work to do.”
“What kind of work?” Ivy skips back to us. “Can I help?”
“Maybe next time,” I say to her with a forced smile.
Saint’s eyes flick to my phone, still clutched in my hand.There’s a shift in his expression, a darkening, a kind of recognition that makes my stomach drop.
“Are you back to making content for your followers?” he asks quietly.
I freeze. “How did you know?”
“Papa knows everything,” Ivy announces, oblivious to the sudden tension. “He’s magic.”
Saint’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine.
“Not everything,” he says, and there’s an implication in his tone that makes me wonder exactly what he knows—or thinks he knows—about me.
“I should go,” I repeat, taking a step back.
“Wrenley.” Saint’s voice stops me. “Thank you. For calling. For keeping her safe.”
“Always,” I say, meaning it more than he could know.
Ivy lunges forward, wrapping her arms around my waist in a fierce hug. “Promise you won’t forget me?”
I crouch down, meeting her at eye level. “I could never forget you, Ivy Toussaint. Not in a million years.”
She nods solemnly, then whispers, “Papa misses you, too. He just won’t say it.”
