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And none of us are strangers to the care nursing someone through it requires. We’ve been doing it for each other for years.
But I know I can speak for the guyswhen I say, tending to Ivy’s wounds has been the most harmonious weaving among us. The restorative cocoon we’ve enwrapped her in has fused us all tighter.
She’s been aware of her rickety grip on reality. Petrified of it. Even through the move to New Orleans, as excited and hopeful as she was, she clung to me—to all of us—like we were a tethering, preventing a nosedive over a craggy cliff.
Two months ago, we held an intervention of sorts. She had been slipping away, no longer able to see the forest for the trees, so we broke it down branch by branch. Her weary blues looked us all over as she launched into a fascinating peek into her brilliant mind—a peek only Tom had ever been granted.
Grains of sand, shooting stars, dandelion wishes, and butterfly kisses.
Tears she’d been harboring for months finally sought freedom, splashing onto her cheeks with boldness as she unveiled that her father had gifted her those escapes into the light, but those pockets of whimsy had morphed into a black hole in his absence.
“No matter how many dandelions I try to gather, I still smell dead things,” she whispered.
To an outsider, it may have all sounded like gibberish, the ramblings of brokenness—whether of spirit or mind. But it made perfect sense to the four of us. This language of metaphors she’s always hidden from others spoke to the scars we all wear. It was that idyllic blend of artistic nonsense and emotional intelligence.
That was what Tom had seen in his little girl—Ivy doesn’t understand less than others. She sees more, just in ways most can’t grasp.
She added that the four of us were the reason she hadn’t been swallowed by the dark, but that was little consolation. Her agony wrecked me. It wrecked all of us.
Thankfully, she agreed to hand us oversight, trudging through the motions of healing whether she felt it or not.For us.
Ty keeps her on task with KORT business. They’ve concocteda movie-character rating system for their prospective politicians. It’s ridiculous, but also profoundly ingenious because no one could ever crack it. Liam busies her mind with hacking and home improvement projects and the occasional reckless spin in one of our sports cars. Gage wakes at three a.m. every morning to bake with her or sample her creations.
I do what I’ve always done. I watch her—assuring she’s hydrated, consuming enough protein and nutrients and sunshine, and maintaining physical activity—not that she’s made any of that easy. She develops a new food aversion weekly.
After studying her sleep patterns, I noted her nightmares ensue approximately forty-five minutes after her eyes shut, so I’m always alert to hold her through it. I soothe her with massages during movie nights, reading her favorite books aloud, and hot baths. And I fuck her into mind-altering orgasms. While we’ve all trekked this hike and know how rough it can be, I’m currently ogling the fuller curves of fruition dancing before me. It’s confirmation we’re venturing on the right path.
We’re outside in our entertainment area, seeking the tranquility of the hot tub in search of some unwinding. The guys were instructed to stay inside. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July and our first large gathering, so my wife is keyed up with equal parts excitement and overwhelm.
She glances at me once she’s bare, her smile lighting up the inky night as she awaits instructions.
“Climb in, beautiful.” I’ve already shed my clothing and dipped into the warmth. My eager cock isn’t shy about divulging my intent for this little outing.
Her thirsty appraisal, full of both lust and pride, scans my new tattoo—a phoenix rising in a storm, inked over my heart and extending the width of my chest, in honor of my girl. She rakes her teeth across her lip as she sashays up the stairs and slides into the water. There’s a geyser in the center, so she carefully avoids it as she wades to meet me on the other side.
But that’s our main event.
I drag her toward me, salivating as the swell of her breasts and perky nipples bob above the bubbling surface. Her peaches-and-cream skin is so silky against my fingertips that it nearly hurts. My tongue sweeps out slow and sweet, licking a promise of hopes and dreams into the seam of her lips—an extension of everything this woman has ignited in me from the moment I saw those fiery tresses and sapphire doe eyes.
She covers the depths of my blackened soul. Because that’s what it takes. Dark can’t snuff out darkness or chase away demons and ghosts. Only light can do that. And while every bit of light inside me stems from her, I can still offer it in return, letting it bleed into her black hole to streak it with who we’ve become together—a blinding brightness of all that’s right in the earth and seas, Heaven and Hell.
She melts against me with a velvety purr as my fingers dive into her hair with the need for deeper, closer. More.
“Kneel on top of the geyser, Little Storm.” My voice is husky with the command, throat scratchy with a parched desire.
One eyebrow quirks above those sexy blues. “On top?”
I wink, a boastful smirk conquering my lips. “Trust me.”
She debates internally, weighing the pros and cons of compliance, like always, before her conflict diminishes and she obeys. It takes only seconds for the flash of appreciation to dress her features. An epiphany of rapture. That powerful torrent is bathing her clit in what I assume is ecstasy. Her breath hitches on a moan that has me chuckling.
“That’s what I thought,” I say, gloating.
Ordinarily, she’d attempt a bratty retort, but she’s already succumbing to a blissed-out state. I step in front of her, the precum on the head of my rock-hard cock glistening.
Without hesitation, her tongue darts out to catch it. “So good, Chief,” she croons with a coy bat of her thick lashes, knowing full well her hunger for me has my balls throbbing with a zinging ache.
I pet her hair, awed by how striking she is here—the moonlightcapering off her misty blues like the dusty-white gleam on a midnight ocean. So radiant. Always. “That’s my good girl. So beautiful, Ivy.”
