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I hesitate, glaring at him, hating how much I treasure his claim on me, how much it warms me that he keeps saying he loves me, and how I can’t fathom getting through this without him. Curling in on myself, the sobs I’ve been fending off rumble in my throat.
“Talk to me, Ivanna.”
“I’m in love with you, too, and I hate you for it,” I confess wearily. “I’m such a fool.”
He drags my coiled body into his embrace, cuddling me through my grief with soothing words and delicate scratches.
“Me letting you hold me doesn’t make this all okay,” I whine.
“Of course it doesn’t,” he agrees.
I sniff, sucking up a grotesque amount of snot. “I’m still mad at you, still need time.”
“Understandable,” he coos, petting my head, “but you’ll sort it out from our bed, in my arms. We’ll also be having a family meeting today, so we can start to work through this. The guys are distraught, to say the least.”
“You’re obnoxious,” I hiss, but all he does is chuckle and kiss my hair.
The “family meeting” is the four of them, humbler than I’ve ever seen them, empathizing with my despondency and assuring me I’m their top priority. They also share stories about my father, how he applauded the two-story library, was in awe of the obstacle course, and was completely enamored with their car collection. He even drove the Bugatti, which makes my moment with Wells all the more scandalous. Still, I’d give anything to have seen that. The stories knock down my walls, brick by brick. Although, even as the anger toward them dissipates, I’m still reeling and disheartened.
I peer around the kitchen table, searching each of them. “What happens if I refuse to take the seat? Will the threats dissipate?”
“There are various possibilities,” Wells says, squeezing my hand. “Too much has happened to hide you as Ivanna Wells or Ivanna Kingston. You can’t safely go back to your old life for a myriad of reasons. It’s an honor to be welcomed into KORT. Rejecting them will be seen as a slap in the face, especially to those who voted you in. You’ll, at a minimum, be expected to devote your life to the cause in some capacity.”
Ty groans with a hasty knock on the table. “You could run though.”
“We can erase you,” Liam adds while Gage and Wells nod in agreement.
My heart sinks at the thought. I try to fix a brave face, but the loss spills over my cheeks. “My mom and dad? Celeste?”
“No,” Ty whispers. “You’d need to sever contact.”
Wells scoots closer, leaving no space between us, hand clutching my shaking shoulder as he silently waits for me to process.
I heave a ragged breath, licking a salty tear from my lip. “And you guys?”
“We’d go with you,” Wells says, sweeping my hair off my neck. “I told you there’s no leaving me, Little Storm.”
That much I knew after our talk at dawn, but the others are a surprise.
My eyes scan the other three, pulse hammering in my neck and toes and temple, as I’m unable to comprehend what they’re offering. “You’d all go? Why would you give all this up?”
Gage taps the table, a nervous finger pecking the wood. “In full transparency, your disappearance would be considered a default on our end. We’d be held accountable. But we’d choose to go with you either way. It’s already been discussed.”
That simultaneously swells my heart and wrecks me. “That means the world to me, but I’m so sorry. I—”
Wells lifts my chin. “Do not apologize.”
He hates apologies. I know that, but I don’t know what else to say. My choice dictates the lives of four other people. My disappearance would shatter my mom. She’d never stop looking for me. Celeste would be broken. It’s so absurd. It doesn’t feel like a choice.
“And my father … this is what he wanted for me?”
“He wanted you to have the opportunity. He believed you deserved it, but he would respect any choice you make. You know that.” Wells’s statement strikes me to my core, flattening my reservations even further. He conveyed similar sentiments yesterday.
All I’ve ever wanted was to make my father proud. If he thought I could do this, thought I should, I have to try.
I straighten in my chair, whisking the tears away with a quick swipe of my fingers. My eyes are surely bloodshot and swollen, but I don’t expect that to improve anytime soon. “Thank you. I need a few days to come to terms with this. I appreciate you all for protecting me, for honoring my father’s wishes, and for your willingness to stick with me.”
The words produce an all-out torrent that has the guys jumping out of their seats, smothering me with hugs in a family huddle.
