Cold Page 8

  “I’m not the one who drove all the way to my house and practically challenged me to a duel, honey.” I leaned in closer, just skimming her lips with the wet skin of my own. “I think maybe you care a little more than you let on.”

  “I cared,” she contested. “I stupidly let myself care about you, about how you were coping, about getting to know you…” Her lips shook, and an angry tear escaped, mixing with the droplets from the shower and disappearing forever. “I cared. You didn’t. So, now, neither do I.”

  Fierce and cutting, her distinction was effective in all the ways she wanted. It broke down the reserves I’d built for this fight and left me hollow, and all there was left to do was give her the peace I’d so desperately wanted when I was in her position.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly when I freed it of the weight of my own and cleared the spray of the shower. It’d warmed to a steamy temperature now.

  “I’ll leave some clothes on the bed,” I murmured. The lines of her face were warped as she tried to shroud what lay beneath it from me.

  She didn’t want me to see the sadness. She didn’t want me to see the conflict. She didn’t want me to see the pain.

  All of those were weapons better wielded in secret, and I owed her the luxury.

  My clothes stuck to my skin as I tracked water into the closet and set about replacing them. I didn’t consider or choose, rather grabbing the first shirt, underwear, and pants I came to. But when I was through and the task was undeniably changed, so did my behavior.

  Carefully searching drawers and hangers, I scoured the entire closet to find the best outfit to suit Ivy’s size and comfort. My oldest Cold PD T-shirt, my favorite forest green sweatshirt, boxer briefs, pants, and a pair of warm socks. I gathered the stack of it and made my way back into the bedroom to set it at the foot of the bed.

  Water slapped at the glass door of the shower, and I closed my eyes against the urge to look back. The bathroom door was wide open, an oversight on my part, and her wet clothes, violently discarded, no doubt, straggled their litter all the way into the bedroom.

  Carefully, I coached myself against the onslaught of want and temptation and gathered the clothes in my arms, intent to launder them so she could have them back and hopeful that the wait would be reason enough to keep her here.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” I called over my shoulder as I exited the room.

  I didn’t wait to hear her response.

  Frankly, I had a feeling it wasn’t really something I’d want to hear anyway.

  High on tiptoe and contorting myself to cover all of the things that counted, I danced around Levi’s bathroom in search of a towel.

  There weren’t any in plain sight, and since the asshole had shoved me without permission into the fucking shower fully clothed, I’d had no choice but to strip down and wash away the cold of the rain.

  Sure, the warmth of the water from his rain shower head had been soothing, and the steady pressure on my back had gone a long way to easing the ache the cold had created. But I didn’t want to be trapped in his house, naked and vulnerable, while he took my clothes who knew where.

  I was angry—depleted. So fucking tired of this back-and-forth between us that I felt like I’d been living it for years. We were two ships passing in the night, and when this was all over, we’d be miles in opposite directions.

  There was absolutely no point in trying this hard. No point in torturing ourselves.

  I sighed and shut my eyes as I let my own advice wash over me.

  No point in fighting.

  My shoulders sagged with the sudden loss of tension.

  I need to let it all go.

  Resolved to my new finding from my foray into self-discovery, I opened the cabinet under the sink and shut it, moved to the tall cabinet on the wall, and finally, found sanctuary in the form of a towel inside.

  I wrapped the plush, navy blue fabric around myself and sank into the comfort of it, briefly inhaling the fresh laundry scent. It was indistinct, thankfully, rather than the linen embodiment of all things Levi Fox, so I gave myself over to the security it provided.

  The shower and pep talk had taken me ninety percent of the way, but the fluffy gloriousness of the towel was the closer.

  I was finally relaxed.

  With fresh eyes and renewed interest, I surveyed the bathroom tile, a glossy white and gray swirl of marble, and the high-end fixtures, and I tried to find Levi in their opulence.

  He was a cop in a small-town police department and basic in his needs from all accounts. He drove a beat-up truck and wore simple clothes, but this house—it was something else.

  I moved then, cocooning myself in the towel as though it were a blanket, and exited the bathroom into the bedroom. It was big, if not ostentatious, and the ceiling was coffered.

  Thought and detail had so obviously gone into the design of this home—most of it focused on looking grandiose. The more I saw, the more I felt like it was in competition with everything I knew about Levi.

  But how well do you really know him?

  The sarcastic, scorned part of me wanted to writhe around in the question and use it to build all of my walls back up, but for once, the practical part of me was louder.

  I didn’t know everything there was to know about Levi Fox.

  Hell, I didn’t even know a fraction of it.

  But I knew this house didn’t fit him.

  As for why he lived in it despite the discrepancy, I had no clue.

  Neat and tidy, a thick pile of clothes sat waiting on the edge of the bed. It’d clearly been arranged with care rather than being tossed mindlessly, and upon closer inspection, I discovered my phone, dried and wiped down, sitting next to it.

  I picked it up and toyed with it, killing time while I fought with myself over whether to call Camilla or not.

  She’d be wondering about my well-being, of that I was sure, but she’d also be forthright and overly pushy about what she thought the meaning of it all was. I wasn’t really in the mood for a lecture.

  Settling on middle ground, I shot her a quick text.

  Me: I’m fine. Got caught in the rain and am drying out before heading home.

  Camilla: Where are you drying out?

  The little snooper. Couldn’t let anything lie.

  Me: I’ll let you know when I’m on my way so you don’t worry.

  Camilla: ARE YOU AT LEVI’S??

  Me: Bye.

  Camilla: OMG, you are!! I knew it! But don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone about it.

  The reprieve was surprising but not unwelcome. I was so tired of explaining myself.

  Me: Thank you.

  Camilla: For now. It’ll be easier to beat it out of you in person.

  Jesus. Great. Something to look forward to.

  Me: You’re so considerate.

  Camilla: Of course I am. I’m the best. But what about Sam? Aren’t you supposed to meet him for dinner tonight?

  Me: I’ll text him. Now leave me alone.

  Camilla: Sure, sure. Get back to whatever you’re doing. I’m sure it’s interesting.

  Me: I’m flipping you off right now.

  Camilla: HAHA

  Quickly backing out of Camilla’s message thread before she could trap me with any more crap, I scrolled down to find Sam’s name and opened his message. The last one, where we’d agreed to dinner tonight at El Loco, sat waiting at the top.

  Me: Hey, Grandpa Sam. We’re still on for dinner tonight, but I need a little extra time.

  Sam: Sure, girl. You all right?

  Me: Yeah, thanks. Just got caught in the rain. No big deal.

  Sam: Caught in the rain? Rain don’t melt ya, you know.

  Me: I know. I was just out in it for a while and not at home. My clothes are drying.

  Sam: Where in Sam Hill did you find a dryer?

  Vague, Ivy. Be vague.

  Me: I’m at a friend’s house.

  Sam: What friend? Last I checked, you had no friends here.

&nbs
p; Gee, thanks. I considered my options for a minute before settling on the truth.

  Me: Levi.

  Sam: Uh-huh.

  He didn’t actually say anything, but there was a whole hell of a lot in his implication.

  Me: Sam…it’s not like that.

  Sam: Sure, it ain’t. How about we reschedule for tomorrow night?

  Me: Tonight is fine. Just make it 8 instead of 7.

  I waited for a full two minutes, but I didn’t get anything back. I decided to assume that meant eight worked for him.

  Done with talking to all of these annoying people, I tossed the phone on the bed, stripped off my towel Sherpa, and got down to the business of getting dressed.

  Underwear, pajama pants, two layers of tops—all of it went on with ease.

  It wasn’t until I was fully encased, covered from head to foot, that I noticed.

  These clothes, like the towel, were Levi’s. But what the towel had lacked in personal affiliation, the clothes carried in spades.

  They smelled bold and powerful and endlessly rich in a restrained mix of leather and citrus. I wasn’t sure where he acquired those specific scents, as I’d never seen him in leather or holding fruit, but it was him all the same.

  And considering I was inside his home, I wasn’t likely to escape the olfactory web of Levi Fox anytime soon.

  My pool was closed for the winter, but Ivy was swimming all the same.

  The sleeves of my sweatshirt hung from her arms like an old peasant dress, but the color was all it took to look right. The green set off the dark notes in her eyes and brought them to life in the center of her makeup-free face, and the collar of it moved in perfect synchronization with the auburn streaks of her wet hair.

  She’d rolled up the legs of my pants to stop them from dragging and tied the drawstring at the waist as tight as it would go.

  But maybe the most important of all, the fight had left her.

  The storm clouds had moved on, and the sun was shining. And it was in the light that I suspected we’d find the truth.

  She chewed at her bottom lip before stopping on the other side of the kitchen island. Hands covered by the overlong sleeves, she wiped at the surface mindlessly, staring at the motion of each hand for a long moment before meeting my eyes with her own.

  “Thanks for the clothes.”

  I shrugged, letting just one corner of my mouth creep up from its resting position. “Sorry they’re so big.”

  She lifted her eyebrow, just one smart remark she’d stopped from escaping bleeding into the muscle.

  “What?” I asked, wanting to know what had driven the skin higher. “What are you thinking?”

  She shook her head and dragged her teeth across her lip. “It’s just…I was thinking that they matched the house.”

  I glanced up immediately, surveying the over-tall cabinets and large, eat-in breakfast area. I knew the space was excessively spacious—I knew better than anyone. But I scarcely noticed it anymore. I didn’t know that I even saw the place anymore. It was a place to go at night to sleep. That was it.

  I allowed a self-deprecating laugh. “A little over the top, huh?”

  She shrugged. “For someone else, maybe not. For you? Definitely.”

  “It was my dad’s house,” I told her, forcing myself to open up my life to her in a way I hadn’t before.

  She stared at me then, the silence stretching into the word she didn’t say. Was. It was simple but specific, and I knew she had to be wondering at its use. I crossed the bridge and onto the next avenue of discussion for her.

  “My dad died a few years ago, and my mom left when I was just a kid.”

  “She never came back?” Her question was soft. Knowing.

  I shook my head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well…I can’t blame her completely, I guess. Life with my dad was pretty shitty.”

  “Leaving her kid was shittier.”

  I shrugged, desperately not wanting to relive the story of young, motherless Levi, but I fought against the revolt. She deserved to know. If anything, she’d borne the brunt of this very hang-up.

  “She, uh…she went to Hollywood. At least, that’s the last I heard. I honestly couldn’t tell you anything more than that, though.”

  “She never reached out?”

  The shake of my head was slight. “No.”

  Her smile was sad but newly understanding. “No wonder you’re not particularly fond of…” She paused and I waited, but in the end, she chose the innocuous noun. “Hollywood.”

  We both knew the word she was really after was “me.”

  I grinned and nodded, admitting, “Misdirected anger.”

  She sighed. “And I suppose you’re just…over it now?”

  I laughed. “I suspect not. But I’m trying.”

  And wasn’t that the truth. I didn’t have the tools to fix what I’d broken with Ivy, but I was trying my best to find them.

  “I should probably get going.”

  I nodded even though the last fucking thing I wanted to do was nod. I wasn’t ready for her to go. “Your clothes are in the dryer, but if you really need to go, you can take those, and I’ll get yours back to you some other time.”

  Her hands disappeared into the depths of her hair as she pulled it back from her face. “I…yeah, just…I’ll get them back from you. I’d wait for them, but I have to get ready for dinner.”

  My nod was jerky as I clamped my jaw shut.

  Don’t ask with whom. Don’t ask with whom.

  Her smirk was easy and mischievous. She knew I wanted to ask. “I should keep you in suspense.”

  “But?” I prompted.

  Her smile grew, and my chest tightened. “But…it’s with Grandpa Sam.”

  A war broke out just underneath my flesh. Grandpa Sam was a much better option than any of the others, but he was still Grace’s family. I knew I was going to have to get over it—the invasion into Grace’s life—but it wasn’t something I could do on command.

  She laughed humorlessly. “Good mood gone, huh?”

  I ran an agitated hand over my face and sighed. There was no way I could go down this road without our nice conversation devolving back into an argument.

  Instead, I did something I didn’t have much practice in—and let it go.

  “Watch out for Sam. He’s a major flirt.”

  She laughed, and her face melted into a surprised smile.

  One point for me.

  A coy eyebrow raised, she leaned into the counter and pulled up a sleeve teasingly. “He doesn’t have to flirt. We’re already an item.”

  A chuckle left my lips. It was rusty and highly unused, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it had surprised the both of us.

  “Maybe he sent you the flowers,” I suggested, and her smile ratcheted up ten notches.

  “I’ll have to ask him. But that’s definitely something he would do.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the kind of thing any good boyfriend would do.”

  Grace’s face when I’d sent her flowers the first time flashed in my mind. It’d been so simple—a gesture I’d done for lack of coming up with one better. Friends for forever, I’d felt the necessity to distinguish the difference between all that time and our first real date.

  A delineation.

  But to Grace, it’d meant everything.

  “Yeah,” Ivy said softly, bringing me back to the room with a startle. “I guess you’re right.”

  She climbed off the barstool and walked slowly around the counter. I knew she was moments from walking out the door and rebuilding everything we’d managed to tear down, and I wasn’t ready to let the easiness go.

  “I’ll walk you out.”

  “You don’t have—”

  “Ivy,” I interrupted. “Just let me walk you out.”

  “All right,” she conceded. “I just need my shoes.”

  My ears zeroed in on the tumbling thump of their presence in the dryer, and she followed the direction of my
gaze.

  “Huh,” she muttered, catching on quickly. “I guess the gravel is going to hurt.”

  We walked to the door in silence. I used the time to stew on the statement, but I had no idea what she used it for. I figured, however, when she gasped as I swept her off her feet and into my arms outside the front door, that it hadn’t been for the same thing.

  “Levi!” she protested, but I ignored the complaints and walked all the way to her car.

  She was light and, eventually, accommodating, which made it easy to open the car door and deposit her inside.

  “I owe you thanks,” she muttered. “Even though I didn’t ask for the lift.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “Do you have to argue about everything?”

  She grinned, asserting smartly, “Do you?”

  The nondescript ring of my phone interrupted us. I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the screen to find the chief’s information displayed.

  I put it to my ear without hesitation. “Chief?”

  “Sam Murphy took a spill,” he informed me without preamble. I started at the news, leaving uneasy eyes unchecked when they jumped to Ivy.

  “What?” she asked, knowing that whatever I’d heard wasn’t good news.

  “They’re taking him to the hospital now,” the chief updated into my ear. “Thought you’d want to know.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured as Ivy climbed to her feet, worry changing the brightness in her eyes to something unnaturally shiny.

  “I’m calling Ivy next,” he added, and my eyes locked with Ivy’s now anxious gaze. “I guess they were supposed to go out to dinner.”

  “I’ll tell her,” I volunteered. “She’s with me.”

  Hanging up instead of waiting for commentary from the chief that I probably had no interest in hearing, I gentled my voice and told Ivy the news. “Sam fell. They’re taking him up to the hospital now, so dinner—”