Page 22 of Fractured Loyalties

Twenty-Two

IVY

I step outside the door, eyeing the SUV that’s apparently my ride to school today. It’s not Edward.

It’s Roman.

And for some reason, that brings a feeling of… excitement.

I pick up my pace and jog toward him. The air outside is sharp and cold, but the moment I open the car door, a wave of warmth hits me. He’s got the heater on full blast, as if he’s trying to sweat out whatever poison is still in his system.

“Get in. You’re going to be late,” he says, not looking at me, and the words are so perfectly normal it almost breaks my brain—as if he didn’t spend the entire night in my room…

Holding me.

I slide into the passenger seat, hugging my backpack to my chest. The leather is soft, the seat already warm.

I let out a heavy sigh and look over at him.

Roman’s hands are on the wheel, knuckles already white per his norm.

He’s so beautiful it almost hurts, like a statue someone fucked up while carving, perfect, but a little wrong in all the best places.

He stares at the windshield, his jaw tight, and then glances over at me. “Are you going to buckle up or just drool over me?”

I roll my eyes, but I do it anyway. “As if you care.”

He puts the car into reverse and then peels out with enough force to make the tires whine. I have to grab the handle to keep from sliding across the seat.

For a while, the only sound is the hum of the road and the click of the turn signals. Roman doesn’t play music; instead, he fills the air with tension and his own weird brand of silence.

“You sleep?” he asks, finally, without looking at me.

“You know the answer to that.”

He laughs, and it’s almost… soft. “I do. You snored a little.”

I feel my face flush with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Roman reaches out and grabs my hand. “I liked it.”

My heart stutters at the warmth and the hope I suddenly feel. Could we actually…work?

Roman’s eyes flick over to me again, soft for half a second, and it’s as if the sun finally finds its way through the clouds. It’s enough to make my stomach do a fucking somersault.

I’m disappointed when we make it to school.

He pulls up to the curb, puts the gear shift into park, and then turns toward me, whole body. It’s so abrupt I almost flinch, but he doesn’t let go of my hand.

“You got your speech ready for Econ and all that?” he says, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s talking about the class presentation I’ve told literally no one about.

“Uh. Yeah.” I lie. I haven’t prepared a single word. My brain’s too fried for anything except surviving this place.

He just nods. “You’ll kill it. I mean, half those idiots couldn’t spell Keynesian if you spotted them all the vowels. If they do give you a bad grade, though, I’ll fix it.”

I pick at the hem of my skirt, not trusting myself to look at him, feeling as confused as I did last night. “Why are you being so nice?”

Roman shrugs. “Why not?” He glances at the clock, then at me again. “Besides. You’re the only family I’ve got.” He says it as if it’s a joke, but I hear the truth buried in it, like a seed trying to sprout in concrete.

I don’t know what to do with that, so I just sit there, hugging my bag, and staring at the dashboard.

Roman notices. His eyes narrow but remain warm. “Ivy…” he starts, but then stops, as if maybe he just remembered that I’m not supposed to matter this much or something.

I clear my throat, trying to cut the tension. “If you’re gonna psychoanalyze me every morning, you could at least buy me coffee.”

He chuckles, and I hate how much I love the sound. “Next time, Little Lamb.”

A horn blares behind us. Roman’s smile disappears in a flash, replaced by the cold mask he wears for the rest of the world. He pulls his hand away.

“Go on,” he says. “I’ll see you after school.”

I nod and open the door, already bracing myself for the blast of cold. I swing my legs out and then force myself to move. As I step away from the car, Roman rolls down the window. His voice is quieter, so only I can hear it.

“Break a leg, Ivy. And if anyone fucks with you, tell them I’ll put their head in a blender.”

It’s so over the top I can’t help but snort. I turn, and for a split second, Roman’s face is pure affection. Then, it’s gone, the window rolling back up and the car already in gear.

I stand there for a second, dizzy with whiplash, and watch the back of the SUV as it shrinks down the street. For a moment, I almost forgot how fucked up everything is.

Almost.

Because the moment I step into the school… I feel as if something is very wrong. The energy is all bad—and it’s directed at me.

Random kids, who have never talked to me before, are suddenly staring, elbowing, and whispering to their friends. Some burst out laughing as I pass.

And it just keeps happening.

By the time I get to my locker, my stomach is rolling. I fumble with the combination twice before getting it open, and inside I find a single sheet of notebook paper, folded with surgical precision.

I glance up and down the hall, but no one is watching now. Or rather, maybe they’re all watching, but only from the corners of their eyes. I unfold the paper.

There’s nothing on it but a URL.

For a second, I just stare at it. Then, against every instinct, I pull out my phone and type it in. The link loads instantly. It’s a video.

And my heart drops.

Ten seconds in, I see myself in my own bedroom, naked and raw and so fucking vulnerable it makes me want to scream.

The angle is from the side, grainy, tinted red, but unmistakable and focused entirely on my face.

Roman, my fucking brother, is on me, but shadowed, and only fragments of him are visible.

He’s unrecognizable.

But me? I’m clear and knowledgeable. My voice, begging and gasping.

My face, flushed and desperate and ruined.

My breasts are on full display, bouncing beneath him.

I feel the blood draining out of my skull.

My knees buckle, and I slam the locker shut just to stay vertical.

Around me, the hallway has gone silent, except for the soft, electronic buzz of more notifications lighting up more phones.

Why would he do this to me?

I want to vomit. I want to claw out my own eyes. Mostly, I want to smash my phone, but I just stare at the screen, watching myself play out on a loop, the views racking up with each passing second.

Behind me, someone coughs. I spin around to see Tess, her face pale, her eyes big behind those dumb black glasses. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. I can see the apology there, the embarrassment, and the fucking horror.

“Did you…” I start, but my voice cracks. “Did you watch it?”

She shakes her head, but then nods. “I… Well… someone sent it to everyone,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s on the student group chat. And Reddit. And…” She gestures helplessly, as if the number of places it’s been posted can be contained by the sweep of her hand.

Blair saunters past, making a show of not looking at me. Her group trails behind, each one flicking their hair or biting their lips, perfect in their cruelty.

“Maybe you’ll make the yearbook now,” Blair says, her voice pitched just for me.

I slam the phone into my bag and push past Tess, past everyone, past all the staring eyes and the clamped lips and the unspoken judgments.

I make it as far as the girls’ bathroom before I lose it.

No wonder he was so nice to me. He knew.

He. Fucking. Knew.

And now, I’m going to fucking kill him.