Page 59 of What About Us

IVY

The past twenty-four hours have been a nightmare. My mother is far worse than she ever was when I was a kid. She’s so fucking cruel. And she kicked Cally twice, and it tore my goddamn heart out.

Just before Xander walked in, I was desperately trying to decide how I was going to remove Cally and me from the situation. But then he stormed in, and I’d never been so relieved to see anyone in my life.

“You didn’t call me,” he murmurs against my hair. We’re standing in the middle of his living room, just holding each other in the quiet.

“When?”

“At any time, Red. I told you to call me if you needed me.”

I sigh and close my eyes, listening to his strong heart thud against my cheek. The same cheek that still stings from the slap my own mom cracked against my face less than an hour ago.

“It’s not your mess, Xander.”

He drags his hand down my spine, and I let out a little yelp when he suddenly lifts me in his arms and carries me to the couch.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I tell him.

“I’m fine.” He sits with me on his uninjured thigh, and I move to wiggle away, but he clamps his arms around me. “Stay.”

“Your knee⁠—”

He shakes his head and rests his forehead against my temple. “Stay.”

With a sigh, I relax against him and wrap my arms around his neck so I can bury my face against his skin.

God, he smells good.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, and then his voice rumbles with “I have a sister.”

Frowning, I pull back so I can see his face. “You have Ava and Harper.”

Xander brushes his thumb over the freckles on my left cheek, and his eyes follow the movement. It sends a lovely little zing through me. Warmth and longing and contentment settle in, and it feels . . . nice.

“I have a new sister,” he clarifies, and my eyebrows climb in surprise.

“What?”

He licks his lips, and I don’t know why I think he needs it, but I can feel in my chest that this man needs a hug.

So I shift, straddling his lap now and putting all my weight on my knees, and I wrap my arms around his neck again and hug him to me.

His arms are steel bands around my back. He buries his nose in my neck, and I rock him, just a little, and hold him tight.

And God, does it feel good.

To feel our hearts beating and to have silence around us as we simply sit and hold each other. I don’t think anyone has held me—truly held me—since I was a baby.

“Who is it?” I whisper.

“Indigo.”

What?

I swallow and pull back just far enough to see his face. “Seriously?”