Take a Chance on Me(93)

Oh, he might crumble, right here.

His father’s hand rested on his shoulder.

Ivy walked to her car, opened the door. Paused. “Darek—”

“Get off my property,” he said quietly, a fire under his skin. “You don’t belong here.”





IVY SAW NOTHING as she drove back to Deep Haven.

She shouldn’t have gotten involved. Why did she get involved?

She just had to keep from dissolving. Just had to pull herself together. Stay unattached.

She followed Kyle’s squad car all the way to Nan’s house, saw Nan standing on the porch, and felt like a traitor. Diane got out of the car, holding Tiger’s hand, but the tyke broke free and ran to his grandmother.

Ivy didn’t wait to listen, didn’t want to hear what Diane said. Never mind her broken promise about buying Tiger ice cream. In the vast array of betrayals, that seemed minuscule.

She put the Pathfinder in drive and headed home. She’d call in sick.

Or maybe she’d just quit.

When she swiped her hand against her cheek, it came away wet. That stupid Darek, drawing her in, making her care about Tiger. About him. Making her believe that she could belong in his life.

Oh, she knew better. She’d eviscerated her one rule—don’t care. Don’t get attached; stay impartial.

But she’d make it through this. She didn’t have to fall apart.

Ivy pulled into her driveway, still shaking. Still hearing Tiger crying, seeing the way he’d held on to Darek.

Yeah, she knew that feeling. She wanted to wrap her arms around Darek herself and hold on. Get him to listen to her, trust her. Tell him that he didn’t have all the facts.

Make him take back his words. You don’t belong here.

But she didn’t blame him, not really.

Ivy’s hand still shook as she opened her door, going inside to stand in her quiet apartment. The faucet dripped water into the sink; the refrigerator hummed as if in disapproval. Outside, the sun had unlatched from the sky and begun a slow descent, scrubbing the floor with shadow.

She had enough money in her bank account to move to Minneapolis. Or Chicago—or how about Rhode Island?—as far as she could from Deep Haven. But what good would that do?

Yes, God clearly hated her.

She closed her eyes, feeling the old rush of panic inside. The one that came every time a social worker appeared on her doorstep.

Again. It was happening again, and she was an idiot this time for letting it happen.

Ivy managed to make it to the tiny bedroom, where she lay down on the comforter, pulled her knees to herself, and held on.

Just hold on. The panic, the emptiness, would pass. She’d figure out how to get up, wash her face, keep going.

I’m glad you came tonight, Ivy. Ingrid’s voice, now burning inside her. You’re good for Darek.

Right.

I’m not going to give up on us.

She wanted to cover her ears.

She toed off her shoes. Pulled out her hair band, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. Closed her eyes. Yes, it would pass. She drew in a breath.

Leaving felt right. It wasn’t like her absence would leave a hole in anyone’s life. It never had before.

Boxes. She needed her boxes. Tonight, after everyone left the courthouse, she could collect her belongings, meager as they were. And by morning she’d be gone.

Vanish. Just as she had fourteen other times.

Ivy sat up, rested her hands against her stomach. Better, much better.

She caught her reflection in the mirror as she stood. Oh, boy, she appeared even more bedraggled than she had this morning. Her hair stringy around her face, her cheeks splotched, her eyes red. She turned away, unable to bear herself.

Yes, she needed boxes. And she’d write a note to Liza and tell her she could keep the rent. Leave the key on Claire’s doorstep.

“Ivy?” The voice jolted her from where she stood in the middle of her bedroom, unmoving.

“Ivy, are you here? I knocked, but—”

Ivy had no words for Ingrid as she turned and met her eyes.

Ingrid looked like she’d been crying. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “Are you okay?”

Ivy just stared at her, blinking hard, a terrible rush of heat through her body, filling her throat.

“I’m . . . I . . .” And then she felt herself crumpling. Pressing her hands over her mouth, she sank onto the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Ivy,” Ingrid said, the softness in her voice enough to unravel every last hardscrabble bit of control.

Ivy shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Ingrid’s hand touched her back.

“I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t sign it, it would only be worse for Darek. This way . . .” She looked up. “If there was any other way, I would have found it.”