meet the other’s eyes or get up to move around. He was everything in both of our lives. We both bent to his will, followed his commands.
The difference between us couldn’t be more obvious. My mother resigned herself to this life a long time ago. There was no other existence for her.
And for me? This was the only existence I refused to live. I would play my part. But Nix would not rule over me forever.
I decided to call Smith in that moment. He offered help and I would take it. Things could always get worse than they were now- but not by much. And that was a risk I had to take, because if I waited much longer I wouldn’t be able to leave. I wouldn’t be able to piece back together all of the broken pieces that ceased to make a whole person. There would only be the ghost of me that remained.
A ghost, just like my mother was.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Ivy,” Ryder called before I could even step foot inside the building.
Damn it. I hoped my whole plan to arrive late and leave early, avoid even eye contact with him and ignore all people completely would work out in my favor. Apparently, Ryder came prepared this morning, verbal guns blazing and all.
“What?” I grunted. I knew this was coming. Obviously he would have questions. But it didn’t make me any more excited to deal with them.
“You need to talk to me, Ivy.” He was leaning against one of front doors apparently waiting to attack me. His arms were crossed over his chest pulling his faded blue long sleeved t-shirt tight across his biceps, his jeans hung loose and torn at the knees and thighs. His black combat boots were untied and still damp from the constant fall drizzle outside. And his hair, oh good lord, his untamable hair. His wild, bed-head hair stood up haphazardly in every direction. The dark brown locks going straight up only to fall over at the tips and tell the story of a hand being dragged through them in frustration, or anger, or…. desire.
Energy rushed through me at the sound of my name on his lips. I paused in the doorway, without consciously deciding to stop. He had that kind of control over me. He called to me. Intoxicated me. He was becoming so much more to me than I should have ever let him. And yet my eyes were locked to his even while I screamed internally at my legs to move.
“About what?” I shrugged one shoulder and waited. I was hoping if I could pull of indifference maybe he would chicken out.
“Who is that guy?” his deep voice demanded, even while I watch his tongue wet his bottom lip and his jaw clench with some kind of raw emotion I couldn’t identify.
“What guy?” I whispered, forcing my eyes back to his.
“Stop it, Red. Just stop.” I winced against his harsh tone and his gray eyes immediately softened.
“I can’t,” I shook my head desperately and then glanced down the hallway nervously.
“You told me we were friends last night. You. You’re the one who told me we were friends. Let me be your friend,” he pleaded in the softest voice I had heard him use.
I tilted my head so that I could inspect my Tory Burch flats and the hot pink skinny jeans that were basically painted on my legs. I could kick myself right now. Keeping Ryder at a distance did not mean declaring a relationship with him even if it was of the platonic variety. And it certainly didn’t mean including him in all the twisted intricacies of my life.
“Ivy,” he breathed. He took a step forward and very gently slipped his fingers into the hand hanging limply at my side. “I’m not going to do or say anything that will get you into trouble. But I need to know that you’re alright.”
The warmth of his fingers spread through my body like liquid heat, infecting every inch of me. I felt every small connection of his skin to mine, the pads of his fingers, his joints that bent to curve around my hand, the heel of his hand as it pressed into mine. I closed my eyes against the sensation. The feeling was so profound, so all consuming that it intensified until my fingertips tingled and my toes curled. I closed my eyes and prayed this was all that Ryder was, just a rush of feeling, of sensation, that the only pull