Page 17 of Collide

GAGE

She doesn’t spill the beans about anything of importance. I’d never met a girl more closed off from sharing about herself, but as I listen to her tell stories of her mother and the band, I begin to wonder if it’s a self-preservation mechanism. Let’s face it, her mother was a fucking diva. For months, we witnessed firsthand the rumors about her on-again, off-again relationship with drummer, Hank Paige. I’d never seen such a vile relationship of jealousy and hate flip to passion at the drop of a hat like theirs did. It was a vicious cycle, and I wonder if this is what Ivy thinks a relationship should be.

Wham. Bam. And thank you, ma’am.

I’d disagree. I might not have had a role model of love, but I knew what I wanted a relationship to feel like and look like. I want the unconditional love Ivy mentions along with all the passion.

I want I love yous and I’m sorry and Let’s make up and I’ll never let you go.

My own mother died when I was a baby, and my father married Meredith when I was still a child. She wasn’t a good example of motherhood because she became verbally abusive as I grew. If she wasn’t smacking me, my father was. Until the day came when he couldn’t face the reminder I was of my dead mother, and he left.

You’ll never amount to anything, Meredith had said. And I’d set out to prove her wrong even though I didn’t care about her. It wasn’t until I hooked up with Cash, and we finally met Jared that I realized my family situation was fucked up. Cash’s larger than life attitude was addictive and one reason I believed I could be who I wanted to be. When we added Petty to our trio, because every band needs a drummer, Cash’s vision became my dream. His nudge pushed me out of my comfort zone and into the limelight where he wanted to be.

“I don’t do drugs,” I blurt, interrupting her story about some guy and her mother. “I just wanted you to know. It’s not my thing to let something control my brain. I drink, sure. Maybe too much. Last night, case in point, but I don’t do anything else.”

I also knew the stories of her own father. Drug overdose. How strange that the situation was so similar to Cash. I’d heard Bruce was jealous of Kit and her growing popularity, but who can ever know the real reasons someone takes his life. Ivy seems strangely level-headed for someone surrounded by sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll, and death.

She smiles at my admission and nods once. “Noted.”

“What else have you noted about me?” I tease, wanting to get a hint of whether she’s thought about me the way I’ve been thinking about her. I shouldn’t still feel this yearning for her. She’s pregnant. With another man’s baby. With my best friend’s baby. A shy smile creeps across her lips, but she doesn’t speak. When she doesn’t answer me, I change tactics.

“Are you scared?” I ask, tipping my head in the direction of her belly. Her hands instantly cover her stomach, and I worry once again that I hurt her yesterday when I hiked her over my shoulder so carelessly.

“Out of my mind.”

“What scares you?”

“Being alone,” she says softly and then swallows. I watch the roll of her throat, hearing the fear in her tone. It’s something I’ve begun to suspect. For her whole life, people have surrounded her, but do they see her? Not just Ivy Carrigan, daughter of the famous female phenom, Kit, but her. Ivy. I can’t imagine she’ll ever be alone. Some guy will snatch her up and hopefully treat her the way she deserves. But for now, I want to know more about her.

“Tell me something else about you? Something no one else knows,” I tease. “Something…fun.”

I don’t need her to continue being serious. I want the little things about her. Ice cream. Beverage choice. Favorite color. Anything.

“I don’t like cottage cheese.”

“What the fuck? Who does?”

“They tell me I should eat it for the baby, but I just can’t.” She shivers in disgust, and I like the motion. She’s cute. She’s gorgeous actually, and I notice it all the more as her excitement grows while she tells me all about the life inside her.

+ + +

Ivy and I spend the rest of the day at the beach. When she decides she’s had enough, I help her stand, hitch her blanket over my shoulder, and reach for her hand. She doesn’t take it at first, and it’s awkward for a moment since I don’t pull back. I hold out my palm and wait for hers. I want her to trust me. I want her to take my hand. When she finally does, it feels like a small victory.

We take the elevator up to the penthouse and find Jared and Petty sitting out on the rooftop patio with a rather upset looking Tommy.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he snaps, glaring at me but addressing his niece. She dropped my hand the moment we saw the trio sitting among the patio furniture.

“Have some care, Carrigan,” I bark, drawing out his name to emphasize the word within.

“You mind your own business,” he snips back.

“Excuse me?” Ivy says, her voice sharp as she glares at her uncle. “I think I can take care of myself, and there’s no need to speak to Gage like that.”

“It’s clear you can’t, and I’ll speak to him how I wish.” The comment startles me, and despite how I feel about him or what I need from him, I’m in his face within a heartbeat.

“Fucking take it back, old man.”

“Don’t you old man, me.” He points back and forth between Ivy and me, and I hear her gasp. “Don’t you go there.”