Page 19 of Fractured Loyalties

Nineteen

ROMAN

I ignore the vibration of my phone against my thigh, as my father’s eyes bore into my skull. “I have it handled. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“You created a false trail of a runaway,” my father says through gritted teeth. “What good do you think that would do?”

“It created a distraction,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t know. It is what it is—and it keeps you from pinning me for murder.”

My father lets out a heavy sigh and runs his hand over his face. I flip my phone over to see who thinks they need me at the moment.

Oh shit. A text from Ivy is sitting there, unopened.

Ivy: Can you come get me? I’m at 1422 Hillcrest Drive.

It hits like a sledgehammer to my sternum. She never asks me for anything, which means… Something’s wrong.

“Roman.” My father’s voice is sharp. “Are you even listening?”

Oh fuck, was he talking again?

“Yeah,” I say, tucking my phone into my pocket. “But now I have to go.”

He gives me the world’s coldest glare. “What? Are you serious?”

“I have something personal to deal with.” I stand, completely ignoring the way my father continues to stare daggers at me.

“Where are you going?”

I grab my jacket off the back of the chair. “A friend needs me. You know, not every family is as great as ours.”

Robert’s eyes narrow. “At eleven p.m.?”

“Night’s always the time that people struggle with mental health,” I say, already backing through the door. “You wouldn’t know that, since you’re made of steel.”

He waves me off with a bored flick, but I see the offended gears spinning in his head. But by the time he tells Edward to tail me, I’ll be halfway across the city.

Besides, Edward is halfway on my team. One day, I’ll get him all the way there. He’s just too afraid of wronging my father. People who wrong my father end up in the bay…

I guess that runs in the family.

I damn near sprint to the garage and jump into the SUV.

As soon as I fire up the engine, I punch the address into the navigation system.

Hillcrest is old money, the kind that stays out of the news unless they’re hosting a charity orgy.

The houses are built to be fortresses, with hedges high enough to hide the houses and driveways that curve so you never see the front door unless you’re invited.

Why would Ivy be there? Who has she made friends with now? Is someone hurting my girl? I thought she was still with Irena.

Panic starts to edge into my vision, blurring it as I speed across town. I pass one truck, two sedans, and a couple of delivery vans. The air is electric, and I can’t decide if it’s because a storm might be coming in off the bay or if it’s me.

I arrive at the house in fifteen minutes and cut the lights as soon as I turn into the circular drive. There are cars parked everywhere, and I weave through them until I make it to the front door. The bass from inside is rattling the windows.

It’s every shit show party I’ve ever hated.

However, I only care about one person, and that’s someone I’ll risk showing my face for. Without rolling down the windows, I scan the yard first, ignoring a few couples in the dark shadows.

I’ll know Ivy when I see her, if she’s outside.

And sure enough, she makes herself easy to find. She’s there, on the front steps. I recognize her blonde hair, blowing in the evening breeze, and she has her arms wrapped around her knees. She’s staring at the concrete.

As if she feels my eyes on her, she lifts her chin, and we make eye contact. She’s got little remnants of mascara beneath her eyes, like maybe she’s been crying. Or perhaps she let some other dipshit fuck her.

It better not be the latter.

I white knuckle the steering wheel as she gets up and closes the distance between herself and the car.

She gets in without a word, slamming the door behind her.

I don’t say anything either, as I peel out from the curb, letting the tires squeal.

Soon, the party’s a blur in the rearview, and I prefer to keep it that way.

When I’m finally certain I’m a safe distance from all the stupidity, I turn to Ivy.

“What happened?”

She doesn’t answer, not even a flinch, as she stares at the windshield. I wait, swallowing the burn in my throat.

“Are you hurt?” I try again. “Did someone touch you?” My teeth grind so hard my jaw throbs.

She shakes her head, but it’s so slow I’m not sure if she’s even aware she’s doing it.

The whole thing has me at a loss. I want to demand an explanation. I want to know who made her cry, and who needs to disappear by sunrise. But the words don’t come out. I know anything I say now might just fall flat.

A fat raindrop splats on the windshield, then another, and then the sky seems to unload, until the glass is streaked with water and neon and nothing else. I turn the wipers on, but it’s as if the whole world is dissolving, one streetlight at a time.

We drive like that for about ten minutes, listening to the incoming storm I felt earlier slamming into the SUV. It slows down our trip home, but I can’t complain. I can’t seem to do anything except drive at this point.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” Ivy’s voice comes out in an almost whisper.

My hands flex on the wheel. “I did. You asked.”

She turns, just enough to look at my profile. Her voice is soft. “You always act like you want to kill me, though.”

“Well,” I chuckle. “It would probably make my life a lot easier.”

She laughs, but it dies quickly. “Why’d you come, then?”

I hesitate, not sure how truthful I want to be about this, so I give her a partial. “Because… no one else will.”

She slumps back at that, letting the seat swallow her, and closes her eyes.

The wipers slap back and forth with a relentless, almost mocking rhythm, clearing away the water only for it to return, thicker and heavier. I drive with one hand, the other flexed on my knee, my jaw working as I keep checking the mirror, making sure nobody tailed us out of the neighborhood.

I don’t know why they would, but stranger things have happened.

“My dad used to love the rain,” Ivy suddenly blurts out. “He’d open all the windows in the house and just let it in, even if it made everything wet. He said the sound was better than music. It was so crazy. Like, who does that?”

I bite down on my lip, forcing myself not to ruin it with a joke as her demeanor seems to lighten a little bit.

“He’d make pancakes every Sunday morning,” Ivy continues, staring ahead.

“He always burned them. The kitchen would be a disaster, flour everywhere, and he’d just laugh.

He thought it was hilarious, making a mess.

” Her mouth twitches, but it’s not a smile.

“Sometimes, when it was just us, we’d sit on the porch and eat the burnt ones. Didn’t matter how bad they tasted.”

She pauses and rubs her palm under her nose, then wipes it on her jeans. “I haven’t eaten pancakes since he died. Not even once.”

Something in my chest shifts, and I can’t stop myself.

“My mother hated the rain,” I say, my tone painfully soft. “She hated how it made the garden smell like dirt instead of roses.”

Ivy turns, surprise flickering through the sadness. “You remember that?”

I nod, taking a long breath. “She was never a fan of things that got dirty.” I clear my throat, shifting in the seat. “She left when I was ten. She promised she’d be back for me in two weeks. That was the last I ever saw her. I don’t blame her for it.”

Why the fuck am I sharing this?

Ivy’s eyes remain on my face. “Did you wait for her? Past the two weeks?”

It’s a strange question, but I answer it.

“Every day. For a year, maybe more. After a while, I realized nobody was ever coming.” I force myself to laugh, but it comes out warped and hard.

“After that, I started breaking the windows myself. If you’re not allowed to see the world, you might as well wreck it. ”

She picks at the hem of her dress, her nails scraping over the black silk. “My dad never let me break anything. He was… I think he was scared I’d become like her. Like my mom. I sometimes wonder if her hardness is genetic.”

I shake my head, staring at the streaks of water as the city gives way to trees. “No one’s born like this. Things happen to make us this way.”

“Sometimes I want to break things,” Ivy says, her words almost inaudible over the rain.

I catch her eye and give her a ghost of a smile. “Well… if you ever need to break something, I think I know a guy.”

She huffs out a giggle that does something to my dick. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

You should. Then we can break things together. Or maybe just break each other.