But at the time, with no money and nowhere to live, Alex had been the only one to take them in. None of them had realized how bad Robby had gotten until it was too late to undo the damage.
“Everything okay?” Alex appeared at Ivy’s side. She’d been in the next aisle, getting ketchup that they’d forgotten.
Ivy didn’t want to tell her because Alex was already close to crumbling with guilt.
“It was just a big man,” Violet said softly.
Alex sucked in a breath sharply and let her head fall forward between her shoulders. Ivy wished they weren’t here, in public, in this fucking grocery store, because all she wanted to do was make a blanket fort and crawl under it with Alex and Vi, where no one could hurt them.
Instead, she was surrounded by cereal.
Life sucked.
Ivy placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “She’s fine now; it’s all right. Let’s just finish shopping and—”
“Alex!” a female voice said.
Ivy looked up to see a woman with a mass of brown hair and a wide smile making her way toward them. Trailing her, pushing a cart, with an irritated look on his face, was Cal. Beside him was a teenage boy with . . . purple hair. In a Mohawk.
Violet stayed pressed to Ivy’s side, but the tension had begun to leave her body, especially as Alex stepped forward, a genuine smile on her face. “Hey there, Jenna. Hey, Cal. Ash.”
The boy lifted his hand in greeting, grinning. Cal grunted.
Alex gestured to Ivy and her daughter. “This is my sister, Ivy, and her daughter, Violet. Ivy, this is Jenna, Cal’s girlfriend. You met Cal already, and that’s his brother, Asher.”
“Half-brother,” Asher corrected, elbowing Cal.
Cal grunted again.
Jenna turned to Ivy. “Hi. Nice to meet you.” Then she bent down so she was eye-even with Violet. “Hey, you. I love your dress. How old are you?”
Compliment the little princess on her clothes, and she was a friend for life. Ivy thought this Jenna was pretty smart. Violet smiled and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “I’m six.”
“Wow! You know what? I have a special nail polish that is made only for six-year-olds. I’ll send it home with Alex. How does that sound?”
Yep, this Jenna was brilliant. Violet bobbed on the balls of her feet. “I’d love that!”
Jenna straightened and then held out her hand. “Deal; let’s shake on it.”
Violet held out her little hand, and Jenna gripped it firmly; then she smiled at Ivy. “She’s really cute.”
Ivy smoothed her daughter’s hair. “Thank you so much. She’s a good kid.”
Asher leaned forward. “High-five?” Violet slapped her palm against his, and he grinned. “Hey, short stuff.”
Cal and Alex began talking about work as Jenna asked, “So you moved here from Indiana with Alex?”
Ivy nodded. “Yeah, we rent an apartment together.”
“And do you work?”
Ivy smiled sadly. “I’m actually looked for a job right now. Not having much luck.”
“You know,” Jenna said, “my friend is looking for help at her store. I don’t think she can promise a lot of hours, but it’d be something.”
“Really? Anything would be helpful right now.”
Jenna reached in her purse and pulled out a pen and scrap of paper. “Give me your phone number, and I’ll have Delilah call you. She owns a consignment store.”
Ivy rattled off her number eagerly, hoping it would lead to something.
Jenna capped her pen. “Do you have retail experience?”
“I have experience just about anywhere—retail, restaurants, administration, you name it.”
Jenna smiled. “Great, I’ll pass that along.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Of course. Anything to help out the family of Cal’s employee.”
Ivy wanted to wilt from the kindness, especially in light of the incident with Violet and that man.
Alex turned to Ivy. “Ready to finish up?”
“Yeah, we need to get going. It was nice to meet all of you. Thanks again, Jenna.” As they walked away, Ivy said, “Did you hear that? Jenna might have a lead on a job for me.”
“At Delilah’s store? That’s just across the street from the garage too. I met Delilah a couple of times. She’s cool.”
Ivy grabbed a package of Oreos off the shelf. “I needed that boost. Let’s hope it pans out.”
Alex sighed. “Me too.”
AFTER DINNER THAT night—spaghetti with meatballs and garlic bread with Ivy’s signature garlic butter—Ivy sipped her wine as Alex washed the dishes, and Violet was in her bedroom, working on her homework. That was the trade-off—Ivy cooked; Alex washed dishes. Cooking was not one of Alex’s strengths. Last time she’d made dinner, they had scorched tomato soup and blackened grilled cheese.
Their apartment was small, but they each had their own bedroom. Even if Violet’s was the size of a closet. Her daughter didn’t complain, happy to be with her favorite people and away from the big man who yelled and threw things and treated her aunt like crap.
No, Ivy wasn’t thinking about that. Robby was back in Indiana, and he didn’t know where they were. He couldn’t come and rip away the healing they’d begun.
Ivy gazed at her sister, who was humming along with the radio she’d mounted under the cabinets. She wore a pair of large sweatpants and a tank top, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Ivy’s big sister had always been the strong one, who’d taken care of Ivy while their single mom worked long hours. Who’d protected Ivy from bullies who called them white trash. Who’d taken Ivy in when she was pregnant and alone and penniless.
So to see Alex so beaten down emotionally by that jackass of a boyfriend nearly broke Ivy’s heart. Since they’d moved to Tory and Alex had been working, she’d slowly been returning to the Alex she’d been before Robby. But Ivy knew she was permanently changed.
Ivy leaned back on one of the old wooden chairs they’d found for twenty bucks at a yard sale the day they moved into town. Her phone rang on the table, the vibration clattering, and Alex looked up, her brows furrowed. Ivy shook her head. “I don’t recognize the number. Not going to answer it.”
“Answer it; it might be Jenna or Delilah.”
“Oh shit, you’re right.” Ivy picked up her phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Ivy Dawn?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Hey, honey, I’m Delilah Jenkins. Jenna told me you were looking for a job.”
Ivy smiled. Jenna worked fast.
They spent the next ten minutes talking. Delilah needed a salesperson to help out at the shop with customers and inventory every day from ten to three. The hours worked perfectly with Violet’s school schedule, so Ivy was eager to get the job. Delilah asked if she could come in the next day for an interview, and Ivy agreed.
When she hung up the phone, she was nearly vibrating. “I think I love this town. And I love Jenna.”
Alex wiped her hands on a towel and hugged Ivy. “She’s great. This is fantastic news!”
Ivy’s gaze settled on the calendar hanging on the refrigerator. She pulled out of her sister’s embrace and walked over to it, pointing at Monday. “Oh shoot, I wasn’t thinking. Violet has a half day of school tomorrow. I’ll have to call and reschedule.”
“Just drop her off at the garage.”
“What?” Ivy turned around to face her sister.
Alex picked up the last of Ivy’s wine and drained it. “Delilah’s is right across the street from the garage. Just drop her off with me. If I’m busy, she can sit in the office and work on homework or something.”
Ivy bit her lip. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. It’ll be fun. Maybe Jenna will be there too. It’s fine.”
Pre-Robby, Violet was an adaptable child, for the most part. Post-Robby was a whole different Violet. And Ivy knew she was feeding into it by babying her daughter, but she couldn’t help it. Part of he
r knew she was working out her guilt by being extra-vigilant and helicopter parent-ish. That didn’t mean she planned to change it anytime soon. “Okay, if you’re sure, because—”
Alex gripped her wrist. “I am sure. Positive.”
Ivy sighed. “Okay. Well, now I need to do laundry because I don’t think I have any appropriate clothes to wear.”
“You mean, that look isn’t going to cut it?” Alex gestured to Ivy’s faded cotton shorts and too-big T-shirt.
Ivy flipped her off and then headed down the hall to her daughter’s room. The door was open a crack, so Ivy knocked and then pushed it open the rest of the way.
Violet sat in the center of her bed, legs crossed, a book open in front of her.
“What’re you working on?” Ivy asked, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe.
Violet didn’t even look up. “Reading.”
Violet had been an early reader and even now could completely engross herself in whatever book she was reading. “You want me to leave you alone to read?”
Violet bobbed her head, her dark ponytail swishing.
“Okay, one four three, baby.”
“One four three, Mommy,” she said softly.
Since Violet could talk, that had been their thing; the numbers represented the number of letters in each word of “I love you.”
Watching her daughter, Ivy wondered what was going on today because she felt a prickle at the back of her eyes. Before she started crying like a weirdo, she closed her daughter’s door and walked to her room.
She sat on the edge of her bed, looking around her sparse room that held all she’d moved to Tory with. Starting over. Again. The third time.
At nineteen, she’d thought she had her life set. She had a boyfriend and a job as a secretary at his father’s car dealership in their small Indiana town. Then she’d gotten pregnant, a baby they’d planned, but in hindsight, it had been not smart at that young age and without a solid commitment. Because Mike had dropped her as fast as he could and claimed the baby wasn’t his. Which was a lie. Except pre-Mike, Ivy hadn’t had the best reputation, so no one cared what she had to say. Her mom wouldn’t take her back in, not that Ivy was thrilled about raising her baby in a town that despised her, so she’d gone to Alex, who’d welcomed her and her big belly with open arms. At the time, Alex had been living in Gary, Indiana, which was a couple of hours from their hometown. Then Robby had come along, and they’d been an odd little family of sorts. Until Robby turned into Satan and ruined their lives, and they’d come to Tory.
This was it. They were staying put. And to stay put, they had to stay away from men. Like Brent Payton. They wouldn’t run again. Not this time. Ivy was determined to make a home for Violet, a home where she felt safe and loved at all times.
So the first step was getting a job. She stood up and began digging in her closet for interview clothes.
Her door creaked open, and she turned to see Alex flop on her bed. “You looking for clothes?”
Ivy sighed and chewed on her lip. It’d been a while since she had to wear professional clothes. Her last job was in Gary at a bakery. She worked in back, so she wore a cotton uniform as she loaded the trays of pastries into the oven.
But according to Delilah, her store was youthful and funky and fashionable. Ivy was only twenty-five, yet she felt like anything but those three things. She felt old and tired and frumpy.
“Stop it.” Alex’s voice cut through her musings.
“What?” Ivy turned around.
“You’re standing there staring at your closet with your shoulders slumped, and I know you’re getting all moony. Don’t be moony.”
“I’m not being moony.”
“You are.” Alex sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. “Ivy, you could put on a burlap sack and walk in there and still look like a million bucks.”
“Quit being nice; it’s a weird look on you.”
Alex laughed and threw a pillow, which Ivy dodged with a stumble.
“Okay, so should I wear a dress? Or leggings and a top? Or . . . ” Her voice trailed off as she stared blankly into her closet.
“This is why being a mechanic is awesome. I interviewed in a tank top and jeans.”
The Dawn girls were short and curvy. Always were and always would be. Alex had no issues with her body but liked to dress comfortably. She usually wore her hair slicked back into a tight ponytail and rimmed her eyes heavily in black eyeliner and smeared deep-red matte lipstick on her lips.
It was her look and had been since they were teenagers. A look Robby hated. He’d told Alex she looked like a whore. The first time Ivy heard him say that to her sister, she’d thrown up. Alex had kept how he treated her hidden for so long. Until Robby had grown bolder and no longer put Alex down in private.
Alex knew she had to leave after that. It’d been her decision, even though Ivy knew it tore her up inside. She’d loved him, in a way only Alex could love someone—with all she had.
Ivy gave up on her closet and climbed onto the bed with Alex. “What’s up? Want to hang out? Vi’s reading.”
Alex’s gaze drifted to the bookcase in the corner of Ivy’s room, which was full of dog-eared historical romance books. Ivy collected them, usually picking them up at library sales or secondhand paperback stores. She loved everything about the dresses and the language and the gossip of the ton.
“You reading anything now?” Alex asked, picking at her fingernails, refusing to meet her sister’s gaze. Ivy smiled. Alex didn’t read much, yet she loved hearing the stories Ivy read. It was normal for her to cuddle up on the couch with Ivy and make her recount a book’s entire plot.
Ivy scooted to the head of her bed, propped her pillow against the headboard, and then sat back. “Yep, want to hear about it?”
Alex smiled and lay down beside Ivy, her head resting on her hand as she looked up at Ivy’s face.
So Ivy told the story of the disfigured lady who surprised everyone by winning the heart of the most notorious rogue.
And during that time, there was no Mike and no Robby, no Brent Payton, and no problems. It was just Ivy and her sister, pretending again they were teenagers, sneaking dirty books into their rooms.
Chapter Three
IVY SHIFTED HER weight from foot to foot, cursing these stupid heels and this stupid interview because nothing worked like it should.
Ever.
Ivy gripped Violet’s hand tighter. “What do you mean she’s not here?”
Cal was looking at her over his shoulder, forearms braced on the open hood of the car in front of him. Those steel eyes were a little unnerving. “She left to go pick up a part. She expecting you?”
“Yeah, I have an interview, and she said I could leave Violet here in the office.”
Cal’s eyes shifted to Violet, who immediately stiffened at Ivy’s side. Cal was perceptive and softened his expression. “Hey there, Violet.”
“Hi,” Violet said, her voice a whisper. She’d been so excited to visit her aunt at work. Ivy had to shove her out the door after Violet had changed after school, spending too long agonizing over her outfit. She wore a long-sleeved purple dress with her favorite sparkly pink shoes with the small kitten heels. She’d asked Ivy to pull up half of her hair with a pink bow. And she wore her gold tiara.
Ivy’s toes were killing her. She’d found heels and a pair of shiny black leggings and a light blue tunic. That was as dressed up as she was going to get, and even now she felt out of place in the garage.
And now she didn’t know what to do. She’d have to cancel the interview, which she didn’t want to do, but no way could she leave Violet here without Alex around. Ivy closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. This wasn’t the end of the world.
“Everything okay?” At the sound of Jenna’s voice, Ivy opened her eyes. Jenna stood next to Cal, a hand on his arm, while he talked quietly to her. Jenna crouched down in front of Violet. “Well, you just get cuter every time I see you.” She straightened to her feet. “Y
our interview is with Delilah today, right?”
“Yes, and Violet had a half day at school. Alex said I could drop her off here, but—”
“Oh, she’ll be back in about a half hour. I can take a longer lunch break. Just leave her with me.”
Ivy paused. “You sure?”
“Of course! I think I have some of that special nail polish we talked about, remember?” She grinned at Violet.
Ivy turned to her daughter. “Sweetie, do you want to stay with Jenna here while Mommy goes to her interview?”
Violet’s eyes were wide and round. “Can she paint my fingernails?”
“Yes, she can paint your fingernails.”
Violet nodded. “Okay then, I’m fine here.”
Ivy gripped her daughter’s hands. “You know you can call me if you get scared or—”
“Mom, I’ll be fine!” she whined, clearly eager to spend time with Jenna.
“Be good and listen to Jenna. You got your tiara, so you’re all safe, right?” They’d started that when they lived with Robby. The tiara was Vi’s good-luck charm, her security blanket.
“Yes, Mom.”
Ivy transferred Vi’s hand to Jenna’s. “Thank you so much. You’re a godsend.”
Jenna waved off the compliment. “No problem. We have your number on Alex’s emergency contact, so I’ll call your cell if we need you. Good luck on your interview!” And then she walked off, holding hands with Violet, discussing nail polish. Violet’s heels clicked on the concrete of the garage floor, and Ivy took a deep breath. She had a job to land.
BRENT BIT INTO his apple as he backed into the door of the office, eyes on the clipboard in his hands. “Sweet Child O’ Mine” by Guns N’ Roses came on the radio, and he whined the guitar solo, strumming an imaginary instrument. He stopped short when he heard voices and realized he wasn’t alone.
Jenna sat on the loveseat in the waiting room, a little girl at her side. A tiara glittered on top of the girl’s dark hair. Her head was bent, hand arching over a piece of paper she was coloring with a purple crayon. On her feet were pink sparkly shoes, one bobbing as she colored.
Jenna was talking to her quietly, and Brent made his way over, curious to see who the little girl was.
Dirty Talk Page 3
