by Misti Murphy
“Have you considered how your dad would feel about your current situation?” Dr. Keller asks. “We talked about how vibrant and charming Richard Love was. About how he always saw the best in everyone. And wanted the best for them. Including your mother and brother.”
“Mmm.” I watch a cherry red Jeep weave through traffic.
“Surely, he wanted that for you too.”
I glance over my shoulder at Dr. Keller. When I first started sessions with her we talked a lot about separating my sense of self from my father. He was vivacious and larger than life. The queens called him Big Dick Love, a play on his real name, and he thought it was hilarious. He was the kindest and most generous person I knew. He loved life loudly and unapologetically. It was easy to get swept up in that. It was hard not to feel the void he left as a black hole, sucking everything into it.
Especially with my brother and Nicole pressuring me into a life that I don’t really want. But how can I say no when I once said yes? They’re my family. They’re all I have left. Other than Adira. And now maybe… Ben.
But still, I made a promise and I can’t change that. “I’m studying. I’m spending time with my friends. I’m making my own choices in every way that I can.”
Dr. Keller taps the end of her pen against the bow of her lips. “Obviously your family won’t approve of this relationship you have with Rogue Maddox. He does have a certain reputation, I’ll give you that. And they have their own goals. But what do you think your dad would think of him?”
I press my shoulders to the glass as I consider what Richard Love would think about the man who makes my whole being come alive when I’m with him. Body and soul.
“He’d have liked him, I think. They probably would have gotten along.” I move to the sofa. The agitation under my skin dissipates for the first time in days. “Rogue would have made my dad laugh.”
“He is funny.” Dr. Keller smiles like she’s probably thinking back to something he said during their session. “Vibrant. Charming.”
“Sexy,” I say.
My cheeks heat. I said that out loud.
Dr. Keller ignores my slip up. “How does being around him make you feel?”
I consider my fingertips. When I’m with Rogue the world just makes sense. “Happy. Alive. Right.”
“So why do you run?” She leans forward and presses an elbow into the arm of her chair. “Why do you run from what feels right?”
“Because it can’t last.” Not with my life the way it is.
“Or is that what you tell yourself in order to stop yourself from potentially going through so much pain again? If you convince yourself there’s no chance for happiness, you also convince yourself there’s no point in trying.”
I glance away from her sharp look.
“It’s not weak to feel pain, Ivy,” she says. “But you don’t grow and get stronger if you don’t open yourself up to possibility. Your dad doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would want you to be so shuttered. From everything you said it sounds like he wanted a big life for you. One where you are happy and surrounded by love.”
“Maybe,” I reluctantly admit. “But it doesn’t matter. Rogue thinks I’m a hallucination. I drove him to therapy. How can I look him in the face after that? I’m not even her. I’m not the girl he thinks I am.”
“Uma Cookie is a part of you,” she says. “The less inhibited part. Have you ever considered that she might be the most real part of you there is?”
“Do you think that’s true?”
“Maybe it’s time you took off the mask, hmm?”
“I…” The idea is terrifying and yet not completely awful. I want to be that brave. I wish I had that kind of confidence.
Dr. Keller stands. “I think that’s enough for today. You have a lot to consider. And I have another patient.”
I follow her to the door of her office. “Thanks, Dr. Keller.”
“You’ve come a long way from the girl I first started treating, Ivy.” She smiles indulgently. “I want you to think about how much you’ve grown. I think you’ll find you can come clean with him. But if you can’t, you need to stop seeing him.”
The idea of stopping this thing with Rogue breaks my heart, but she’s correct, this isn’t fair to him. And it’s not right. “I know.”
Chapter Twenty
Rogue
“Ivy.” I smile at the brunette already perched at one of the tables at the coffee shop where we first met. “I’m glad we could do this.”
“Thanks for asking me.” She smiles at me from behind huge black shades that kind of make her look like a grasshopper.
I can just make out the bruising she sustained when she ran into the doorframe. If it had been one of my brothers it would have been funny as fuck, but when she hit the wall my heart lurched.
“Have you ordered?” I glance at the counter and tug on the brim of my cap. It’s fairly quiet in the off-campus café at this time of day. We decided between her classes and my time on set it would be easiest to coordinate a lull where both of us would be available. A ball cap and some bug eye shades later it’s like we’re carrying on a covert affair. Only that’s not why I’m here.
“I waited.” She leaves her seat to join me at the counter. Dressed in a denim skirt and a loose sweater with the sleeves hanging over her hands, she’s cute in a home slice kind of way. And those caramel and chocolate side buns are adorable. I get the desire to tug on one like an idiot kid who doesn’t know how to deal with a cute girl.
A couple of months ago I would have thought it a real pity she hasn’t reached the legal age to go on this ride. But that was before I was shot at and consequently traumatized enough to imagine myself infatuated with a Disney character. Fuck my life, that isn’t a situation I ever would have expected to find myself in.
The good news is, I’m probably not following in my mom’s footsteps. It probably is just extreme stress brought on by the shooting. And I probably will get over Uma Cookie eventually, with therapy and time.
The bad news is I feel guilty as sin about being an ass to the quiet coed. So much so, she ran herself into a wall and gave herself two black eyes and a broken nose. Hopefully this coffee date will put my karma back in balance.
“One of those macchiato things again?” I ask as I pull out my card and peer at the pastries in the display case.
“You remember?” Her nose wrinkles behind the shades and it hits me funny.
“You made an impression,” I lean in to say softly.
“No, I…” She slams her mouth shut.
“I felt like an ass,” I admit. “Spilling your coffee all over you. And then the way I behaved when we met again at the clinic. Watching you run into the wall the other day…I owe you one hell of an apology.”
“No, that’s—”
“Hi. What can I get you?” A perky feminine voice draws my attention to the server who is ready to take our order.
“Caramel macchiato. Double espresso. And a couple of those donuts.”
The girl gets to work on our order and we move back to the table.
“I was surprised you called.” Ivy draws her shades down from her honey caramel eyes.
“Well, you had just run into a doorframe when I asked for your number,” I remind her. “You were probably concussed. It makes sense that you forgot.”
“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t expect you to actually call. At all.”
“Man, I really was a jerk that day, huh?” The last couple of times we met I’d been all up in my head. So much so I hadn’t noticed how pretty she is. Or how the dark flecks of chocolate in her irises lend so much depth. And how the shape of them almost make them seem too big for her face. Or how they’re framed by a thicket of black lashes and a line of kohl that’s so perfect it ought to be art. The black eyes don’t detract from her beauty at all, but they do make her appear vulnerable.
If I hadn’t witnessed what happened…if I thought for one minute someone had hurt her…I release the fist I hav
e clenched on my thigh. I’m still angry…about Ro. That’s what this surge of protectiveness is. “When’s your birthday?”
Her brow furrows. She swallows hard and her gaze sticks to the corner of the thick wooden tabletop. “Christmas Eve.”
“Hence Ivy?”
“They could hardly call me Mistletoe,” she murmurs.
I clamp my fingers together under my chin. Smile. I like her more each time we meet. “Funny. And Holly?”
“Was taken. My aunt.” She shrugs. “Is it really that big a deal that I’m only twenty?”
“This isn’t that kind of date,” I clarify.
“I know.” She picks up a napkin and starts to fold it until it resembles a cup. “Apology coffee.”
“Right.”
“I just…” she puts the napkin down, picks it up again, and begins to deconstruct her origami. “It seemed like it was a big deal when you said it, but it’s not, you know. Not that it’s relevant. But if it was—”
“Yeah.” I exhale. “I suppose it’s not. I just like to keep the door firmly closed on dating below my demographic. Especially when the media can get involved at any time. Next thing you know that twenty year old is sixteen and you’re doing time.”
“Have you done time?” she asks.
“I’ve been arrested a few times,” I admit. It’s technically public knowledge. If she wanted to she could snoop around on the internet and garner all the information her heart desired, so I don’t bother hiding the fact. “For causing a nuisance of myself in public. My twin and I have done some stupid shit. And some more fucked up shit. And some really drunk shit. But nothing that’s led to me spending time in jail. And certainly not something like that. But there was this girl once. We met at a party right after I got famous…she told me she was in college. Said she was nineteen. Her brother busted in on us before anything happened. Gave me two black eyes and threatened to call the cops on me for statutory rape. Turned out she was barely sixteen.”
“Shit,” Ivy whispers.
“Yeah, so now I have a few rules. I try to be responsible. I don’t screw with coeds. I do stick to women of legal drinking age. I check IDs.” Although lately, I’ve been shirking my own rules a bit. But it isn’t like most of my run-ins with Uma Cookie haven’t happened in venues that require ID. Not that it matters at all since Uma Cookie doesn’t appear to exist. I probably don’t need to get bent out of shape about it.
The barista calls our order and I collect it before settling in across from Ivy again. She peels the lid from her cup and trails her finger through the cream on top before licking a dollop off the tip. She’s quirky, and again it hits me funny. She’s cute and I like her. Not as much as Uma Cookie, but then Uma Cookie doesn’t exist. Or she doesn’t want to be found. Either way.
I scald my tongue with the hot beverage. My eyes water. “What are you studying?”
“Business,” she says, but she doesn’t sound thrilled.
“You’re not enjoying it?”
She tugs on her bottom lip while she ponders the question. “It was the smart decision.”
“Hmm.” Smart or not it sounds like she regrets it. “What would you rather be doing?”
Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly before she sticks a foam tipped finger between her lips and sucks the moisture off it. “Nobody has asked me that. It’s not really relevant.”
“Of course it is.” I shift in my seat. The idea that I find her attractive and likeable makes me uncomfortable. Taking a sip of my strong and bitter brew, I ponder this new information like it’s completely foreign. She’s almost too easy to talk to. Too cute. If she weren’t in college and I wasn’t traumatized… Sometimes it feels like we’ve been friends for years. “What do you enjoy? What are you good at?”
“I’m actually surprisingly good at statistics.” She snorts under her breath.
That little sound is like a hit of déjà vu to the chest. “You know, you always seem so familiar. I don’t know why. The first time we met, I could have sworn we’d met before.”
She studies the plastic lid in her hand with renewed interest as she presses it back into place. Her gaze doesn’t quite meet mine. “About that. I should probably—”
My phone starts playing the Ataris’ version of “Boys of Summer.” It’s been our group ring tone for Summer since Riot got hammered and serenaded our hopefully soon-to-be-sister-in-law. “I don’t mean to be rude but I need to take this. I’ve been waiting for some news on something…and I’m really hoping it’s good.”
“Go ahead,” she says.
I slide my thumb across the screen and put it to my ear while I mouth sorry. “What’s up, Sum?”
“So the orderly that called Rebel when you were in the hospital got in touch with me today,” Summer tells me. “And…”
“And?” Mentally, I hurry her up. If I wanted dramatic pauses I would go on a reality TV show like Dancing With The Stars or Big Brother: Celebrity Edition.
In the background my brother is saying something in a snarly tone that I don’t catch.
She sighs. “You were accompanied by a woman dressed as a princess. His description was, and I quote, ‘She looked like that princess from that movie Frozen, my niece must have watched it about a thousand times.’”
“Fuck, yes.” I leap out of my seat as I shout. I’ve never been so happy to be right about something before. Uma Cookie exists. She’s real. In your stupid face, bro.
Ivy jumps at my sudden exuberance and seems to turn inward.
A couple of coeds who are bent over books look up from their study.
I pull the brim of my cap down lower over my eyes. Bring my volume down to a regular level. “Can you put my brother on the phone, please?”
“Sorry, didn’t meant to scare you,” I tell Ivy while I wait for Rebel to accept the phone from Summer. No doubt he’s standing there with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
God, I wish I had bet on this. I probably could have talked him into putting up the papers to Curvy the Corvette. Not that I can’t borrow the convertible any time I want anyway. It’d just be a blast to see his reaction. Especially when he almost convinced me it was all in my head.
Ivy smiles and puts her energy into staring at her own phone, undoubtedly to give me a modicum of privacy.
Rebel’s heavy breathing fills the phone. “What?”
“I think you know.” I smirk so wide my cheeks hurt.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grunts. “You were right. Uma Cookie is real. The girl you kidnapped and chained to a bed is real.”
“I’m just glad I wasn’t having mutual masturbation sessions with myself instead of hooking up with real women.”
Ivy’s creamy complexion turns crimson. I probably shouldn’t have said that in front of her, but I forgot for a moment that we barely know each other. I tilt my head as I realize she has freckles. Huh, didn’t notice those before.
“You better hope this doesn’t come back to bite you on the ass,” Rebel says. “Whoever this girl is; she’s clearly playing you. Girls don’t show up and then vanish like that. It’s weird. Creepy even.”
“Dude, stop being such a negative Nancy.” I roll my gaze at Ivy and pull faces at my phone until I get her attention. She can’t help her smile as she tucks one of her long bangs behind her ear. “You can earbash me about this later. I’ll come over when we wrap up for the day.”
He says something else, but I don’t catch it as I end the call.
“Sounds like congratulations are in order?” Ivy says.
I clamp my hands behind my head and arch my back. I feel like going to the gym and fighting a couple of rounds in the ring or joining a marathon. I have too much energy to just sit here. I’m re-energized now that I have confirmation that I’m not losing it. Even though I don’t know who Uma Cookie is. And Rebel could still be right that she’s trying to cause me harm.
“Uh, yeah, maybe. It’s a long story. This girl I was kind of seeing…she kept disappearing. She totally had me think
ing I was hallucinating.” I tap my fingers on the tabletop. “My mom. She isn’t…well. She has some mental health issues. That’s why I was talking to Dr. Keller the other day.”
She doesn’t need to know that I was worried about my own mental health. That Uma Cookie had me all up in my head and freaked out about the possibility that I might end up like my mom. I watched the most important woman in my life check out when I was a kid and my one big fear, other than butterflies, is that one day that will be me, checking out on the people I care about.
“I’m so sorry about your mom.” Ivy slides her hand across the table to touch mine. “That must be difficult.”
“It’s nothing new.” I shrug. “We were kids when she had her first breakdown. After that it became a cycle. She’d start a new medication and turn back into our mom for a few days, or weeks, or if we were really lucky, months, then one day I’d wake up and Rebel would be serving up breakfast and telling us that mom wouldn’t be getting out of bed that day. Sometimes it was worse. Sometimes she’d leave and we never could be absolutely certain we’d find her or she’d come back.”
“I’m so sorry.” Ivy presses a hand to her mouth. Her eyes are watery bright.
“No need.” I shake off how truly weird it is to just talk to this girl like she’s a friend. No, more than that. For as much as Bianca and Ethan and Linc know the Maddox men history, prior to the wealth and fame, I don’t just put myself on blast like this. But for some reason I feel like I can trust Ivy not to blab my secrets to the media. “It’s life, you know. A bit of yin to the yang. Balance. Gotta have the bad to appreciate the good.”
She sniffs and delicately swipes the dust out of the corners of her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”
“Most of the time,” I say, noticing we haven’t touched the donuts I bought, though we’re both almost done with our coffees. I use a knuckle to nudge the plate closer to her. “Have one.”
“Thanks.” She picks up a doughy treat and breaks off a bite size piece, but she puts the whole thing back on the plate without eating any of it. “Rogue, I—"
