Page 50 of What About Us

“Of course I do. I have to watch hockey somewhere.” He grins and must think I don’t notice when he kicks the speed up by one more notch.

“I see you, you know.”

Before he can reply, my phone rings, but I ignore it. I usually turn the ringer off altogether when I’m working, but I forgot today.

Unfortunately, it starts to ring again.

“Get it,” Xander says.

“Don’t touch the speed,” I say, trying my best to make my voice hard and bossy, but Xander ignores me. “Hello?”

“Ivy, this is Bridger Blackwell with the Bitterroot Valley Fire Department. We’re at your bar here in Silver Springs.”

My heart bottoms out, and I squat, my knees unable to hold me up any longer.

“My mom?”

“We got her out. She seems just fine, but she’s being checked out by medics. She’s not terribly with it mentally, so if you could come answer some questions, it would help us out.”

“Okay. Yeah, sure. Okay. You need me to come now?”

Jesus, I don’t even know what I’m saying.

I feel Xander’s hand on my back, and then he takes the phone from me, and I cover my face with both hands as I listen to him take over.

Thank God he’s here to take over.

Because I feel myself spiraling into a panic attack.

“This is Xander Hendrix. I’m with Ivy. Hey, Bridger. Fuck, yeah, okay. We’re on our way. Be there in ten. Thanks, man.”

He sits next to me on the floor and runs his hand down my braid, soothing me.

“Take a breath for me, Red.”

“Oh my God.”

“Breathe. I know this is a shock, but we have to go, Ivy, and I need you to calm down first.”

I nod and take in a shaky deep breath. Xander does it with me, his eyes on mine, and after the third one, I swallow hard and then feel my lower lip wobble.

“What did she do, Xander?”

He’s grim when he brushes his thumb under my eye, over my freckles. “I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“You’re not finishing that sentence, Red. I’m with you.”

He climbs to his feet and then helps me to mine, and once I’ve grabbed the small handbag out of my work bag and he has his wallet and keys, he leads me out to his SUV. But I have my truck here.

“I can follow you in,” I tell him.

“I don’t want you driving right now. You’re upset. We’ll get your truck into town later, even if I have one of my siblings help me. Let’s go.”

I don’t bother to fight him because I don’t want to. I like having him with me. Before I know it, I’m buckled in and he’s driving us into town.

“What does it say about me as a daughter that my first question is what kind of bullshit did my mother pull to cause this?”