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I glance over to find him holding on that little bit tighter to Summer and I hate him for it. I almost bare my teeth. He gets to hold onto her. I don’t have that comfort right now. I’ve lost everything tonight. Everything that matters. Because of him.
We’ll bring her home.
There is no other option I’ll accept.Ivy might have made it through surgery, but she’s not safe with Nicole and Alec.
“We all watched the press release,” Bianca murmurs.
“What can we do?” Lincoln asks.
I toss back the liquor in my glass. Hope it will burn the bitter taste in my mouth to ash. It doesn’t. Of course it doesn’t. Whether Alec hurt Ivy or not, she tried to end it tonight. There was a note on the damn dresser. I only managed a glimpse but it was the same writing that was in her school books… her handwriting.
Perhaps they hurt her and she decided it was all too much. I can’t begin to guess… all I know is I wasn’t there to stop it. I didn’t have her back. I didn’t protect her.
“We have to find Adira,” Rebel tells them. “We’ve been trying to contact him all night but he’s not answering his phone.”
“I’ll go to the Mojito Bar when it opens and talk to the queens,” Ethan says.
“I’ll swing past the apartment again,” Linc offers.
“Restraining order and public viewpoint be damned, I should be there with her right now.” I march out of the room.
“Wait, Rogue.” Summer follows after me.
“Did you volunteer to come after me because you know if he tries to stop me I’ll hit him?” I grab the keys to one of the cars from the cabinet near the garage. “I won’t hurt you, Sum, but I’m not going to let a piece of paper keep me away from Ivy, and I’m certainly not going to let you get in my way either. I can’t wait around for that woman to sink her claws into her.”
“No.” She grips both of her elbows and squeezes. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t even want you to. But—”
“But, what?”
She drops her gaze to my jeans. “You’re covered in her blood.”
“Shit.” Somehow in all the shock and exhaustion and the media hoopla and the rushed drive home I forgot that I was covered in Ivy’s blood. I pass my hand over one of the rust colored marks and my palm comes away stained. I blink like it will make my hands clean again. But they aren’t.
I shove one of those dirty hands into my hair and grip it as exhaustion overwhelms me. I need a moment to catch my breath and find my bearings. I need to clean up and a change of clothes. I put the keys back next to the empty spot where Emmy’s key should be. I forgot about that too. “Emmy—”
“Linc picked up the car and drove her back.”
“Of course.” I head toward the room I use when I stay here. “I’m going to shower.”
“We’re going to fix this,” Summer calls after me. “I promise you, Rogue. We are going to find a way to fix everything.”
I shut the bedroom door and go into the ensuite bathroom. I have to believe her. The future without Ivy in it—no matter how immediate or short term—is not something that I am willing to imagine, let alone accept.
I turn the water to a scalding temperature and shed my ruined jacket on the tiles. The rest of my clothes follow. I sag against the counter. Can barely hold myself up as my emotions drag me under.
Hell, I tried to fool myself into thinking I could turn my back on our love, but I knew I was wrong as soon as she was gone. It was only fear and pride that kept me from going after her straight away. It was only stubbornness that kept my anger banked to a level where I couldn’t bring myself to hold onto her like nothing else matters.
I clear the wetness from the back of my throat and step under the spray. The steaming water sluices over my body as I lather up some body wash in my hands and start to get clean. If Ivy were here the whole room would smell like blackberries. If Ivy were here I wouldn’t need to rest my head against the tiles while I get all choked up over how close I came to losing her. And I wouldn’t swing back to wanting to punch my twin in his stupid fucking face while I climb out and towel off and get dressed.
If Ivy were here she would be in my arms and I’d be promising her I’ll never let her go again. Because she and I… we’re meant to be together.
Rebel is flipping hotcakes onto a stack on a plate when I walk through the kitchen. It’s a thing he does whenever he wants to make someone happy or knows he’s fucked up. The aroma makes my stomach growl, but doesn’t slow me down.
“What do you think you’re doing,” he calls out to me.
“Going to the hospital,” I say.
“She’s been transferred. You won’t get to see her,” he warns me.
