by Tiffany Snow
Devon’s lips met mine in a kiss that was bittersweet. I didn’t want to cry so I pushed away the thought that it was our last. Instead, I tried to memorize the taste and texture of his lips as they moved over mine, the feel of his arms around me, the fingers of one hand sifting through my hair while the other curved around my hip.
It was several long moments before Devon slowly pulled back. Resting his forehead against mine, his voice was quiet as he said, “Remember. You’re strong. Stronger than you realize. You’ve survived so much, and yet your soul is pure. Don’t let the darkness consume you again. Do you hear me, sweet Ivy?”
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
“You’re beautiful, inside and out. The past is gone forever. Tomorrow is never assured. There’s only today. Live in today. Promise me.”
“I promise.” My voice was barely audible. I knew these were the last things he wanted to tell me, and I tried to memorize each word.
“I’ll think of you,” he said, and now his voice was even lower. “Quite often, I’m absolutely certain.”
I wanted to ask again, to beg him to change his mind and choose a different path, one I could share with him, but I swallowed down the words. My asking would only taint the goodbye he was trying to make.
His smile was brief, as was the gentle swipe of his thumb across my lower lip. “Take care, sweet Ivy. Be well.”
“You, too,” I managed. “Be careful.” I knew that the odds of me ever seeing him again were smaller only than my ever finding out if something happened to him.
We didn’t say any “I love yous,” and I was glad. I think that might have broken me. As it was, he wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me tight, then pressed a light kiss to my forehead. When he let me go, his fingers caught at mine, pressing once as he stepped away. In moments, he was lost in the crowd.
As I stared into the streams of passing people, unblinking, hoping for one more glimpse, a hand latched on to mine. Logan.
“I’m sorry, Ives,” he said.
I looked up at him, tears on my lashes.
“I’m not so big of a jerk as to want you to lose the man you love,” he said. Reaching out, he brushed a wet trail from my cheek and draped his arm over my shoulders. Drawing me close for a hug, I felt his lips brush my forehead. “I’m really sorry,” he repeated.
The familiar feel of him was comforting and I was deeply glad he was there. “Thank you for coming,” I said, clearing my throat and blinking rapidly to dispel the tears. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Bullshit,” he retorted without heat. “You deserve better than I treated you. Especially after all the shit that happened.” Tugging on my hand, he said, “C’mon. Let’s head to our gate.”
We walked side by side to security, pulling out our passports and tickets to get through. I glanced at mine, getting another jolt when I saw Devon had again used the “Mrs. Rose Ross” name and passport for mine. Once through, we walked to our gate and sat down. The flight wasn’t for another couple of hours. I wandered to the screens that showed departures, noting that Devon’s flight to London left in mere minutes, though from a different terminal.
Strolling to the windows, I watched the planes take off, wondering which of them carried the man I’d fallen in love with . . . and lost.
I felt a presence behind me and saw Logan’s reflection in the window.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
I thought about it before I answered. “I’m okay,” I said. “It was never going to work, but it meant more—I meant more to him—than I thought.” I turned to face him. “That’s something, right?”
“Damn straight,” he said with a small smile. “He’d have been a fool otherwise.”
“I wish . . .” But my voice trailed off and I didn’t finish the sentence.
“You wish what?”
I shrugged. “I wish he’d felt a bit more. Maybe then I could have competed with the loyalty he has for his job. But however much it was, it wasn’t enough in the end.”
Logan didn’t say anything to that, not that I needed him to. It felt good to say it, though. Acknowledge the truth of it.
“Want to get something to eat before we take off?” he asked.
I was hungry, so that sounded good. “Yeah, let’s.”
We wandered to a small restaurant near our gate and ordered. The service was quick and it wasn’t long before we were finishing up. Logan and I had chatted while we ate, him catching me up on the white lies he’d told Grams and Grandpa about what had happened that night Devon and I had left.
“They actually believed you when you said lightning struck that SUV?” I asked, incredulous.
Logan grinned. “You know I can do no wrong in Grams’s eyes,” he teased.
“True.” I laughed. “She likes you more than she likes me.”
Silence fell for a moment, both of us lost in our thoughts, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt good to have my best friend back. A last gift from Devon.
“So,” Logan began, and I could tell by his voice that he’d switched into serious mode. “How are you doing?”
“I’m all right,” I said. “I am. It’s sad and . . . I’m really going to miss him.” I had to pause for a moment, a lump growing in my throat. I was hurting, deep inside, but I was dealing with it in a way I’d never been able to before. Devon was gone . . . and I would be okay.
Logan reached across the table and took my hand. “Good,” he said. “I’m really glad.”
“What about you?” I asked. “You said before I left that you didn’t want to see me anymore.”
But he was already shaking his head. “I was mad, and trying to force you into a decision. I guess I’ve accepted that things just aren’t going to be what I always hoped they’d be.”
His matter-of-factness didn’t fool me. “I’m sorry, Logan.”
His smile was a little forced this time. “No worries, Ives. We’re friends. That’s what counts.”
I paused on our way back to the gate to use the restroom. “Go on ahead,” I urged him. “I’ll meet you at the gate.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” I impulsively gave him another hug. I hadn’t realized how much I’d counted on having Logan in my life until he hadn’t been there anymore. “See you in a few.”
In the bathroom, I fiddled with my hair and readjusted my dress, primping without really being conscious of the fact that I was doing so. It made me feel more normal, especially after all that had happened. This would be the first time I wouldn’t be anticipating Devon’s arrival since before Christmas.
It would take some getting used to.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was surreal, going back to work. I felt like I’d lived another life in the past three weeks. And if my boss, Mr. Malloy, didn’t like me as much as he did, I might not have had a job to go back to after being gone that long.
Marcia wanted to hear all the details of my “exotic adventures,” as she called them. She’d been so excited when I told her he’d taken me to Amsterdam and absolutely enthralled when I’d shown her the yellow diamond necklace Devon had given me.
“But it was a goodbye gift,” I said.
She looked at me strangely. “A goodbye gift?” she echoed. “What does that mean?”
“It means we broke up,” I said flatly. I refused to cry, no matter how badly I ached inside. The only time I allowed the tears to fall was at night when I was alone in my bed.
Marcia was shocked, staring at me wide-eyed. “Oh. Oh wow. I’m so sorry.” She put her arms around me, but I didn’t let her hug me for very long. I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to keep it together.
“I thought you’d be glad,” I said with a thin smile.
Her expression turned sympathetic. “I’m not that kind of friend, Ivy,” she said. “If you’re sad and unhappy, then so am I. No matter what I thought about your relationship, it was still your relationship.”
That nearly broke the dam hold
ing back the tears, but I took a deep, shaky breath and swallowed them down. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just nodded.
“Let’s go get a drink sometime this week after work and talk about it, okay?” she asked, rubbing a hand over my shoulder.
“Yeah,” I managed. “Yeah. That’d be great.” I smiled weakly at her, already knowing I wouldn’t go. There was so much about my relationship with Devon that I couldn’t tell her—that I could tell no one.
Except, maybe, one person.
As soon as I’d hit the mainland, my cell phone had started working again. I’d had over a dozen voice mails from Scott, each one more worried than the last.
I hadn’t called him back yet and the guilt was weighing on me. But I didn’t know what to tell him. I also didn’t know if I wanted to drag him back into my life, though now there was no real reason why I shouldn’t.
It wasn’t like I would ever see Devon again.
The thought was another shaft of pain through me. Logically, I understood all the reasons why Devon had ended things between us. But my heart just wouldn’t listen. I missed him. I missed everything about him.
He’d had a driver waiting for Logan and me at the airport when we’d landed, and he’d dropped me off at Devon’s place. When I’d tried to argue, the driver had said that his instructions had been very clear, that I was to get out there.
Logan had followed me inside the building, both of us confused. The police tape was gone and the apartment was once again pristine. No sooner had I unlocked the door and stepped inside than Beau was poking his head out of his apartment across the hall.
“Hey! You’re back!” he said.
“Hi, Beau.” I smiled at him. “How’re you?”
“I’m awesome,” he replied with a huge grin. “The Cards are playing the Pirates Friday. You going to the game?”
“Um, probably not,” I said.
“What about you?” he asked Logan.
“Yeah, season tickets,” Logan said with a grin.
“Way to go, my man!”
They high-fived. I rolled my eyes as I pushed my suitcase into the apartment.
“Hey, wait, Ivy,” Beau said, stopping me. “I’ve got something for you.” He disappeared back into his apartment for a moment or two, then came back holding out an envelope for me. “Yeah, Devon sent this to me with a note that I should give it to you when I saw you.”
I stared at the white envelope in his hand, almost afraid to take it. Logan solved my dilemma, reaching past me to take it from Beau.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Sure, no problem.” Beau’s cell began vibrating and he gave us a wave before hitting the button on the Bluetooth earpiece he wore. The door to his apartment swung shut behind him.
Logan closed my door, then followed me to the couch, where my shaking legs had taken me.
“Do you want me to open it?” he asked.
I nodded.
Breaking the seal, he tore open the envelope and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Slowly flipping through them, he said, “It’s about the apartment.”
“It’s what?”
“Here, this place,” he clarified, glancing up at me. “It’s in your name now.”
“The lease?”
“No. The deed.”
He handed me the papers and there it was, my name and the address of the apartment. It seemed Devon wasn’t yet through with his parting gifts. Not that I was complaining. It was the first time in my life I’d ever had a place to call my own.
“That was . . . generous of him,” Logan said.
I nodded, my throat thick. “Yeah, it was,” I managed.
All my things had still been there, though Devon’s clothes had been removed from the closet. He’d had no other personal things in the apartment, the décor and furniture all done by an interior decorating service.
I knew Devon had meant for me to move on, to close the chapter of my life that included him. I just wasn’t sure I knew how. Devon and I had a connection. He’d understood me, understood how messed up I had been inside my head—probably because he was just as broken.
Although it was Friday night and I didn’t know if he’d be home or if I’d be interrupting a date, I decided to call Scott back. Of course, once I’d decided, it still took me the better part of two hours to work up the guts. After all, the last time I’d seen him, my boyfriend had been pointing a gun at his head. He’d stopped texting once I’d stopped responding.
Not exactly the best of terms.
His cell rang three times and I thought I was going to get his voice mail, but he picked up on the fourth ring.
“Scott,” I said, trying to hide my nervousness. “Hey, it’s Ivy.”
There was a pause, then, “Oh my God, Ivy? Is it really you?”
I smiled at the sound of his voice, gladder than I thought I would be to talk to him.
“Yeah, it’s really me. I’m returning your call.”
There was a long pause and when he spoke again, his voice was much more guarded. “I called you over a week ago, about a dozen times.”
My smile faded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t get your messages. I-I was out of the country for a while and my phone didn’t work.”
“God, Ivy,” he said, still sounding upset. “I thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “And . . . I’m sorry about how I left, the way Devon behaved . . . and well, I’m just sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not like it was your fault.”
The words I’m sorry immediately sprang to my lips, but I bit them back.
“So where are you now?” he asked.
“Back at Dev—I mean my apartment.” It was hard to think of Devon in past terms.
“Can I come see you?”
I couldn’t say no, and wasn’t sure I wanted to. I was hurting and any kind of distraction was better than nothing. It would be good to see him again. Scott was a really great guy, even if I was his rebound from his ex.
You realize he’s one of those men who want to save you.
Devon’s words flitted through my head, but I shoved them aside. I didn’t need saving. Not anymore. “Yes. Yes, you can.”
I brushed my hair again and checked my appearance in the mirror before he arrived. I wore jeans and a tank top that was comfortable enough for lounging around the house on a Friday night.
The knock came sooner than I’d thought and I checked the peephole before opening the door. As quick as I was, though, Beau had been quicker, already chatting with Scott.
“. . . best from behind comeback ever,” he enthused.
“Yeah, it was quite a game,” Scott agreed, but he was looking at me, his gaze ranging from my head to my bare toes and back, seeming to drink me in.
“Okay, well, good talking to you, man,” Beau said as Scott slipped inside my apartment. I finger-waved at Beau, who was surely the nosiest neighbor I’d ever known. He had to have ears like a hawk.
There was a moment of awkward silence, then we both spoke at once.
“Can I get—”
“You look—”
We both stopped. Laughed.
“You look amazing,” he said. “Must have gone somewhere sunny, I guess.”
“Um, yeah. For a little while,” I hedged. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Sure.”
I’d said it automatically, then realized I didn’t know if I really had anything here. It wasn’t like I’d had time to go grocery shopping. But after a quick search, I found a bottle of wine in a cabinet.
“Red okay?” I asked.
“Sounds good.”
Scott sat on the barstool while I opened the bottle of wine. Devon had a handy-dandy electric wine opener, which made it super easy.
I had an electric wine bottle opener, I mentally corrected myself.
As I was pouring the wine, Scott asked, “So you want to tell me what happened once he dragged you out of the hospital?”
; Devon hadn’t dragged me, but I didn’t want to antagonize Scott, so I let it pass.
“The guy who was after me went after Logan instead,” I said, shuddering as I remembered that night. “Devon got to Logan in time, thank God, and then the guy ended up tracking us to my grandparents’ house.” I took a hefty swallow of my wine as memories of running through that cornfield flashed through my mind.
“What happened there?”
“Devon killed him.”
Scott frowned. “So if the guy was dead and there was no longer a threat to you, why didn’t you come back?”
“We went to Amsterdam,” I said, rounding the counter and taking the stool next to Scott’s. I decided against telling Scott about the additional men that had been tracking me on Vega’s orders.
Scott’s eyebrows flew upward. “That sounds . . . nice,” he said, his tone flat.
But I shook my head. “It wasn’t. It was . . . pretty awful, actually.” Absently, I rubbed my stomach where the cuts had healed but a couple of white scars had been left behind.
Scott reached out, stilling my hand. Cautiously, he lifted my shirt a few inches, as though fearing what he’d find. He sucked in a breath when he saw the scars.
“I’m okay,” I assured him, covering his hand with mine and letting the fabric drop again.
Turning away, he drank the entire glass of wine. After setting the glass back on the counter, he rubbed a hand over his face.
“You’re not, though,” he said. “You’re really, really not.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
His gaze met mine. “How many close calls were there this time, Ivy?” he asked. “How many wounds have healed? How many scars will he leave on you before you decide enough is enough?”
I looked away from his penetrating gaze. “Devon has a dangerous job,” I said. “He’s never hidden that from me. But it doesn’t matter anyway because . . . we broke up.”
Scott seemed utterly taken aback. “You broke up?”
I nodded. “He said it was too dangerous, us being together.”
“You sound like you don’t agree.”
I shrugged. “He could’ve quit his job, just lived a normal life.” My gaze lifted to Scott’s. “But he didn’t.”
