My voice is soft. “Yes, she does. She’s… incredible.”
Drew fist bumps me and then takes his seat.
A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. I look up to see a police officer. Right behind him is the lawyer Marcus sent over for Drew. I’m not letting Drew answer any more questions without a lawyer present. No way is he going to pay for what Silas did.
I lie there long after Drew is taken to give his formal statement, waiting for the doctor to come back to discharge me. Not that I’m going anywhere. But I’d like to get out of this gown and sit at Ivy’s beside.
Finally, I’m “discharged.” I dress, then slide into the chair at her bedside. They insisted I wear this damn sling. I hate it already. It’s only temporary until my shoulder heals.
I stare at her face. The noise of the night has finally died down, and my thoughts are on what happened. I replay every decision. Every moment I hesitated. Every time I told myself I was in control.
I wasn’t.
I came within inches of losing everything. The people I’ve been too scared to open my heart to. The ones I can’t live without.
And for the first time, the thought of opening myself fully doesn’t terrify me.
What terrifies me more is dying without telling them how much they mean to me.
62
IVY
The hospital smells like bleach and false reassurance.
Everything is too bright. Too clean. Too loud in the wrong way—machines beeping, nurses moving fast, voices clipped like they’re trying not to scare anyone.
This place scares me. If Sebastian wasn’t here, I’d be going out of my mind. I hate hospitals. I saw this place more than I ever wanted to when my mom had cancer.
Sebastian sits in the chair beside my bed, one hand wrapped around mine. His knuckles are scraped. A bruise blooms along his cheek. His arm is in a sling. He keeps staring at the door like it might fly open and Silas might come through it.
It won’t happen. He was shot. And even though he isn’t dead, he’s going to be in a lot of trouble for what he did.
That’s what the lawyer said when he returned with Drew.
But Sebastian’s body doesn’t believe that yet.
A nurse comes in with a clipboard and the kind of smile people use when they’re about to deliver instructions.
“Okay, Ivy,” she says gently. “Your scans look good. Noconcussion. You’re sore, you’re bruised, but you’re medically stable.”
Sebastian’s thumb rubs over my knuckles. “What about her shaking?” he asks.
The nurse glances at him, and I can tell she’s clocking him. The tension in his shoulders. The way his gaze never stops scanning. The way he’s holding my hand like he’s afraid I’ll fall through the floor.
“That’s a stress response,” she says. “Trauma. Adrenaline crash. We gave her something to help her settle.”
Sebastian’s jaw flexes.
I squeeze his hand, because I can feel him spiraling and I refuse to let him disappear into that place.
“I want to go home,” I say.
“You can go home,” the nurse says. “But you can’t be alone tonight. No driving. No stairs if you can avoid them.”
“She’s staying with me,” Sebastian says. Not an offer. A decision. “She won’t be alone.”
The nurse pauses, then simply nods like she’s learned not to fight men who look like they’re held together by a thread.
