“Go on home,” Thad interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. “And try not to bother your Uncle Drew for no reason. If you get on his bad side, there’s nothing we can do for you.” He knew all too well what his brother was like–this was for Micah’s own good.
Micah stood there awkwardly, the lump on his head still throbbing, and his heart aching just as much.
The next day, a relentless downpour kept Ivy indoors.
Katrina Lester had left on a business trip for more than a week, leaving Ivy alone in the house. It was so quiet, she could almost hear her own voice echo when she spoke.
Thankfully, Jamison was exceptionally “annoying” that day. From the moment Ivy woke up, he kept calling every so often–asking if she’d eaten breakfast, if she’d had lunch, if she’d taken her meds, what she wanted for dinner…
By midday, Ivy was so exasperated she stopped answering.
Wasn’t he always saying how busy he was? Why did he suddenly have so much free time today?
As dusk settled and rain still hammered the windows, Jamison called again. “I’m about to get off work. Where do you want to go for dinner?”
Ivy sat in her third–floor studio, watching raindrops burst on the terrace through the tall windows. Her voice was light but distant. “It’s pouring out there. Don’t bother coming over–I don’t feel like going out anyway.”
“Then what are you going to do about dinner?”
“I’ll just make some pasta or something,” she replied.
“Haven’t you already had pasta twice today?”
Jamison had asked about her meals earlier, and both times she’d said the same thing: pasta.
She wasn’t even from the north–who eats pasta three times a day?
“It’s fine. I like pasta,” Ivy lied.
1/2
16.450
In reality, her pasta was barely edible, but she didn’t have much choice. She could master anything else in record time, but somehow, cooking always eluded her. With Katrina gone, she could already predict she’d lose weight again, undoing all the progress she’d made recently.
“You like pasta‘-no wonder you’re as skinny as a noodle!” Jamison retorted, half–joking, half–exasperated. “I’ll order dinner for you and eat with you tonight. No arguments.”
“What? That’s too much trouble, really. The rain’s awful,” Ivy protested. On one hand, she didn’t want to inconvenience him; on the other, she was nervous about being alone with him. Things felt different now that they were officially together. Jamison was the affectionate, hands–on type–and, honestly, he was even more dangerous with his words. She worried about where things might lead if it was just the two of them, especially since she still carried scars from the past–scars she wasn’t ready to talk about, not yet.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to say any of that aloud. They’d only just started dating. It was way too early for that kind of conversation.
Despite her gentle refusal, Jamison did whatever he wanted anyway. He pressed her about what she wanted to eat, then called a restaurant to place the order.
But just as Jamison was about to leave work–after a day of surprising leisure–an emergency cropped up. Two badly injured victims from a car accident were rushed into the ER, their conditions critical.
Technically, this wasn’t Jamison’s responsibility. Even if the ER was overwhelmed, there were other doctors on call. But he couldn’t relax and walk away. After a moment’s hesitation, he called Ivy again.
She picked up, surprised. “You’re here already?”
“Not yet,” Jamison explained. “I was just about to leave when they brought in a few car crash victims. It’s pretty serious. I’m staying to see if they need extra hands. I told the restaurant to deliver your food straight to you, so pick up if you get a call from an unknown number.”
“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about me–go do what you need to do.”
“Alright. Eat well, and I’ll check in later.”
As soon as the call ended, Ivy let out a breath, feeling oddly relieved–then, just as quickly, strangely disappointed. She blamed it on being cooped up alone all da maybe a little bored and lonely. There was no way she was already getting attached to Jamison. No way at all.
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