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Kendrick changed a lot of the dynamics in the family.
I don’t know what Fylox sees when he faces Kendrick, but whatever it is, it makes Fylox ferociously protective of my grandchild. It’s how I can cope with being away from my family for a little while. I know that Fylox has it under control even when I’m away. We’re a unit—a broken one for now.
Ignas doesn’t have a support system. No parents, family. No friends outside of my doe. Ivy’s made me aware that money’s tight for him. If he were to decide to live in the city in a better area, both Ivy and I could help him with rent until he finds his footing.
Ignas doesn’t want to hear it.
High on pain meds and stuffed with chocolate strawberries, he refuses to talk to me or let me check out his injury.
On my visiting days, I sit with him until it’s time to pick up Ivy.
“While I love it when you’re skeptical and broody, I’d like to know what’s on your mind,” Ivy comments. She’s not gripping my dick anymore, but she consumes it with her eyes and a bite on her lips.
“My eyes are up here,” I remind her, and she chuckles. She lifts her doe eyes, and they meet mine. “I was thinking of Ignas. We should buy him a place.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Ivy replies, rubbing her hands in mischief. “And a car. I also want him to have a Fuck Me French subscription. He loves strawberries. How do we go about gifting him all that? He won’t let me do it. He rejects you—”
“We’ll force him.” Her eyes widen in fear, and the thrill is addictive. “For his own good. He can’t stay in that rat-infested place. The elevators smell like puke and piss. It’s horrid. The security covers the kids on the upper floors, but the lower floors are left unattended like the residents can afford to be raped and looted. His door doesn’t even lock properly. I have no idea why he still lives there.”
“He just started his new job, and he got injured. It’s just his luck,” Ivy says, sighing. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, heading for the kitchen. “I told him I could help make him a guard.”
“Oh, you did?” I inquire, intrigued by her angle.
“It’s either that or be a pimp.” She spits out the word like it’s poisonous. There are no illegal pimps on Katantia, not to our knowledge. Here, it’s all above the table. Everyone pays their taxes. The red-light district? That’s the entirety of Katantia. Men have limited options when they’re uneducated on Katantia. Male prostitution hasn’t completely warmed up to Katantians yet. It’s at the stage where few people make tons of money from it, and the ones who become male prostitutes are shunned for their choice. “He doesn’t want to be either. He wanted to get into sex work.”
“Perhaps it’s his coping mechanism? I have no idea what to condone regarding behavior on this island anymore, but if he were my son—”
“I know, right?” Ivy agrees. Her cheeks have turned bright pink, and she’s gawking at her coffee machine. She’s tempted to make herself a drink, but I’ve put her under strict orders not to do so. If I’m supposed to take it slow and behave like a retiree, she should get a grip of her coffee addiction. “I just hope he’s been doing his studies. He has so much time on his hands now. He can graduate from night school earlier.”
“You’re a hot little doe, all protective of your friend,” I tell her, and her eyes gleam at me. She blushes, biting her lip.
“I care about him. You’re out of the palace now, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do good on Katantia, right? I will be there every step of the way. Perhaps we should look into Ignas’ neighbors and research whether they need help, too….” She doesn’t finish her thought because there’s an impatient knock on her door.
Ivy immediately grabs hold of me, and it affects me that she comes to me like that. I’m hard now, but I can’t fucking do anything about it. We’re being abstinent. Plus, there’s an unexpected guest at the door.
The clouds are rosy outside, sundown sneaking upon us.
“Jordan? I’m not expecting anyone,” Ivy reveals, trembling like a hurt little doe. She’s upset, and she clings unto me for dear life. We hurry into her bedroom, where I draw on a T-shirt, and she slips on a pair of shorts.
I kiss the top of her head once we’re done. “Let’s see who it is. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
She takes my hand, gripping it harder than ever before. I lead us to her door, and before I even open up the door, I smirk. I don’t have to check the peephole. I hear the heavy steps come up the stairs, the ruffling of leather, and harsh whispers that communicate over earpieces.
Ivy gasps when I open the door.
My grandson sees me first, and he squeals, lighting up my world. Ivy’s touch softens, and she lets go of my hand.
“It’s good to see you,” Kamila says. She’s backed up by the guards that occupy the foyer and the staircase. My daughter-in-law’s disheveled look doesn’t go unnoticed. Her hair is darker than ever, the red fading more and more as the day of my granddaughter’s birth approaches. The Queen of Katantia appears sleepless, the bags under her eyes a curious warning of what she’s endured.
It’s only been days.
Should I feel proud that my absence results in pain? No. I should feel ashamed.
Kendrick shuffles and twists in his mom’s tight embrace. Her belly is round, almost ready to pop. Her doctor has told her to take it easy with Kendrick, especially because he weighs so much. But Kamila doesn’t listen. She still holds her child.
“Please, come in,” Ivy says, moving aside. I’m speechless, my mind numb at the sight of Kamila wandering inside my safe haven with my grandson. There’s nothing wrong with this image. It just startles me. “Would you like something to drink?”
Ivy shuts the door after three of Kamila’s guards squeeze into Ivy’s tiny hallway.
