Page 41 of Every Single Wildflower
I can tell she’s pissed at the rejection, but it’s not like she’s sitting at home waiting on me. She’ll find someone else tonight, which is fine by me. A random hook up here or there when I would try to push Ivy out of my mind was all it ever was between us, and she’s right. It’s been a while.Four fucking years.
I should probably take her up on the offer, but instead, I’m again, casting my rational thoughts to the side and rushing out into the parking lot in search of Ivy.
I spot a wave of blonde hair as she trails through a row of trucks. My feet move, catching up to her quickly as I try to reach for the keys dangling from her fingertips. “You shouldn’t be driving.”
She lets out a screech, before slamming her hand to her chest. “What the hell, Maddox?”
“Give them here.” I open my palm.
“No.” She whirls around. “I’m fine.”
Her tone is sharp, and I’ve known her long enough to know when she’s pissed.
“Ivy," I grit out, gripping her by the crook of the elbow.
“Maddox, leave me alone.” She rips her arm away. “Don’t you have someone else to take home tonight?”
So that’s what this is about?
“Are you fucking for real?” I scoff, stepping in front of her so she can’t advance forward.
She turns back in the opposite direction, but I block that path as well, crowding her against a Dodge Ram.
“Let me go,” she hisses.
My hands land on either side of her head, caging her against the vehicle. “You really think you have a right to feel hurt?”
“I don’t know what you are even talking about,” she snaps. “I don’t want to be here, anymore. Please move.”
I sear my gaze to hers. “Why?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters, trying to duck out from under my arm.
I drop it, stopping her again.
“Why are you doing this? Just let me freaking leave!” She shrieks.
“Why? So, you don’t have to watch me dance with her?” I tilt my head to the side, watching the way her eyes widen.
This is the first time we’ve talked about anything remotely close to these compressed feelings. The ones that have lingered between us for years.
“Stop it.” Her chest rises, her breathing morphing into rapid pants.
“No, Ivy.” I shake my head. “You don’t get to run. You don’t get to just take off when it hurts.”
“I’m serious. Stop!” She shouts.
“You think it didn’t hurt me?” I tap my chest with my fist. “You think it didn’t rip me to fucking shreds to sit by for years while you fucked my brother?”
Hot anger fills her eyes, and she uses both palms to shove at my chest.
“You’re an asshole.” A sob catches in her throat as I stumble back into the car parked behind me.
She takes off, her brown flowered dress flying back behind her in her wake.The same flowered dress from that night.
“Ivy,” I call.
“No!” She sobs. “Don't.”
