Page 156 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
Chapter Sixty-Two
Anthony
Don’t live with that kind of regret.
Damn it. Ryder knows how to get my ass off the couch and make me move.
I shower. Shave. Clean up. Put in some eyedrops to hide the fact that my eyes are gritty and bleary from not having slept well in a week and a half. I select my best clothes—a bespoke shirt and slacks, then slip my feet into the shiniest of shoes.
I have TJ look up Julie’s address, and then I drive the blue Audi over. According to Bobbi, Ivy is still there because she hasn’t been able to find a place that fits her needs yet. I spot a florist on the way. I’m tempted to stop, but don’t. If I’m not enough to convince her to let me fix what’s broken between us, no bouquet is going to change her mind.
In front of Julie’s apartment, I wait. Bobbi’s Escalade pulls up. I honk. It stops, Bobbi sticking her head out for a second, then vanishing. I get out of the car and go to the passenger side of the SUV.
Ivy’s there, her face pale and thin. Fresh guilt threads through my heart. She shouldn’t have lost weight because of me. Her eyes are dark gray now, without the usual vivaciousness.
“Ivy, I just want a moment of your time,” I yell through the window.
She looks away.
Shit. Don’t do that.I have to talk to her. Just five minutes. No, three. Even a minute. I’ll take anything.
I knock on the window. She turns toward me, then slowly opens the door and climbs out. Her hair’s pushed back into a low ponytail, and there are dark circles under her eyes.
Ivy. My sun. My light. What have I done?
“What do you want?” she asks flatly.
A million things I want to say, a billion things I want to do, and the only one I want is her. One step at a time. “I’m sorry.”
Her gaze slides from mine. “You should take Bobbi back,” she says finally.
I wish she’d slap me. Or call me names. Anything but this cool, civilized tone. It reminds me too much of how Mother was when I came home after my nine years of exile. She never forgave me, refused to give me another chance. If Ivy didn’t look so delicate, I might shake her, but I’m too scared to touch her. “I can’t. I have to be sure you’re safe.”
“You can see that I am. Guarding me isn’t what she wants to do.”
“I don’t care.” Nothing trumps Ivy’s safety, and I’m not here to talk about Bobbi.
A faint, mocking smile tugs at her mouth, turning it painfully ugly. “You’ve always been so selfish.”
“When it comes to you? Yes.”
“Why do you still care?” She looks at me quizzically. “I already know your game. I don’t believe that my life is in danger. And I won’t be Iris or whatever she represented.”
“Iris or Ivy, none of that matters. What matters is you. You represent a second chance. A miracle. I thought you weren’t you because I screwed up before with someone else, projecting onto her what I wanted, rather than seeing what was really there. If you were ever curious who I was with two years after you supposedly died, that’s your answer. When I realized you didn’t remember me or have the tattoo on your wrist anymore…” I stop. Her expression is too still. It isn’t like Ivy at all to be so emotionless. It sends terror marching through me, as terrifying as the sound of an enemy army approaching to destroy whatever’s left of me. And suddenly, I can’t continue.
I can see her processing slowly. Surprise flickers in her eyes. She turns her left arm and looks at her scarred wrist. “Why does the tattoo matter?”
If I tell her, she’ll know my past failings. Part of me would rather die out of shame than to let her know. But I don’t want to lie anymore. I was a fool to think I could keep her with a façade of words. All I’ve done is build our future on a foundation so shaky that the slightest tremor could bring it down. Look how it’s collapsed on me. On her. “You got it to show me you loved me when we were younger. It was beautiful, too. A tiger lily and our initials entwined within. Instead of being flattered and happy, I told you that you didn’t know what you were doing.”
“So I was pathetic then, too,” she says mockingly.
“No. You were incandescent. It was me. I was a coward. Scared. I didn’t think I could protect you, and then, sure enough, you died. It seemed fitting—you erasing the tattoo along with whatever memory you had of me.”
“But the girl everyone thought was me… Did she have the same tattoo on her?”
“Probably not. But we’ll never know for sure.”
“Why not?”
