The Rush
“Yes, sorry I couldn’t write back. They wouldn’t let me,” I explained hoping she didn’t think I had blown her off.
“I know, mom told me. She said it was part of the therapy,” Honor whispered but not from fear of being overheard…. from just plain fear. “You’re better now? You’re not… um…. depressed anymore?”
Ha. The million dollar question.
“No little one, I’m not,” I lied. I hated lying to Honor, but sometimes it was necessary. I couldn’t have her worrying about me. I couldn’t give my mother something to use and lord over her. If my mom thought she could convince Honor I would be safer and healthier with Honor at home with us, she might just leave her dad to help me.
“Alright, Ivy. I would like to see Honor too,” my mother’s voice attacked our embrace and I could feel the rage pouring out of her in waves. She had seen the opportunity too and was furious I gave it away.
Honor tightened her arms around me once more and then released me. I watched her walk away and step into my mother’s cold arms and shivered. I glanced up at Smith who was watching Honor with a barely restrained flight instinct. Anyone could see his desire to grab his daughter and get as far away from her biological mother as humanly possible. I wondered if maybe it was the chemo drugs that flipped the switch in his male brain. Is that what happened to Ryder too? Especially after our conversation last night, I was convinced my curse held no power over Ryder. But then why not? Was he sick as a kid or something? Maybe a drug addict in years past, and the drugs had done a number on his brain?
Except he was way too perceptive for his own good. It definitely wasn’t an intelligence thing.
Grrr. I hated how much he consumed my thoughts, how invasive just thinking about him felt. He was this absolute enigma in my life and I had no idea what to do with him.
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do anything with him.
I glanced up at Smith, wondering if there was a way to ask him about his time in the hospital. Maybe he had some insight that would be useful. He turned to face me when he felt my eyes on him and held my gaze. He tilted his head toward the hallway in a gesture asking if I would go with him. I nodded just barely in response, shocked that he was willing to leave Honor alone with my mom.
“Ava, I’m going to show Ivy a book I’ve been reading about depression. I think it will really help her,” Smith declared in his rich voice that usually commanded board rooms and was right now bending the force of nature that was my mother to his will.
“Why, Smith?” my mother asked coyly. “Are you struggling with depression? I’m sure my lawyer would love to hear the details.”
“Not at all,” Smith replied with a firm hint of irritation lacing every word. “This is for Ivy. It has nothing to do with me.”
“Fine,” my mother sighed as if it was the greatest inconvenience ever. Although her pretend irritation was all a lie, I could see the greed light her dead eyes, her fingers practically shaking with the opportunity to manipulate and brainwash Honor.
I followed Smith out of the room, across his open foyer and down a short hallway. He opened the door to his study and let me pass before looking surreptitiously into the hallway as if on look out. When he was satisfied we weren’t followed, he closed the door quietly and walked over to perch his hip on his massive mahogany desk.
“We don’t have much time. I don’t trust your mother alone with Honor for more than a few minutes,” Smith explained quietly.
“First, tell me, are you Ok?” Smith’s steely expression met mine. He was truly concerned. For me.
The realization took my breath away. Nobody was really concerned about me. Everyone, even kids from school, assumed my “rehab” was an excuse to escape the aftermath of Sam’s accident. But now Smith and Ryder in less than twenty-four hours. I felt the ground shift beneath my feet, or maybe it was less physical… maybe it was more like a shifting inside of me, like my soul opened a little bit to the outside world.
“I’m Ok,” I answered truthfully. Both in his question and my answer the subtle hints of what “Ok” meant were obvious to both of us. Ok for me was all very relative. I was Ok because I was alive and not currently being physically abused. I was Ok because I was back home near Honor and able to keep a close eye on my mother. I was Ok. But at the same time I was so far from being Ok it was sickening.
“Good,” Smith grunted gruffly. He paused for another moment, stealing a glance at the door. “Ivy, if you ever need anything, I mean anything, money, a place to stay, a plane ticket, anything, you let me know. Alright?”
“Alright,” I nodded my head for extra emphasis. It was nice to know Smith wanted to help; it was even nicer to know Smith understood that I needed help. But, I couldn’t under any circumstance take him up on his offer. And he knew that. It would have terrible consequences for Honor. If my mother ever found out, her lawyers would go straight for his jugular which had thus far been protected by innocence of action. But it was nice to know he cared and that he saw a need.
“Alright,” he repeated his voice never losing the refined hard edge that I was sure had been a key factor in all his success. “I called you in here because I’ve been talking with your father’s attorney. When you went away,” his voice broke for a moment and I stood up straighter, ready to bolt from the emotion that was flowing from him. This scenario felt so dangerous my arms had goose bumps and my breathing had become erratic. “Listen, I know what your mother’s like. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you. I don’t know details of what your life is like living with her, but I know damned well that my own daughter will never find out. That makes me very concerned for you, understand?” he softened his voice and started talking rapidly so I only nodded. I didn’t want to interrupt him; he needed to get whatever this was out, quick. “Your father set up a trust for you that is available to you once you are eighteen and have graduated high school. The original language made it clear this money is meant for your future, so you can go to whatever college you wish or simply have access to it once he deemed you were an adult. However, there is some language that would suggest the money be made available to you immediately if the court ruled you were in danger.”
His words hung in the air as if the world stopped moving, as if time completely stood still.
When he could see that I was speechless he continued, “It would be difficult for a court to decide you were in danger unless there was absolute evidence. I’m guessing you don’t have concrete evidence of physical or verbal, even emotional abuse or even threatened physical abuse?” I shook my head in defeat. “Well, I didn’t expect it to be that easy, don’t worry. With your permission I would like to continue talking to your lawyer. I approached him on impulse after I learned you were sent for treatment. But I think he and I might be able to work through this and make your fund available to you before graduation. Would that be alright with you?”
I wanted to agree, I wanted to beg him to do whatever he could. I would even pay for it; he could take whatever he wanted from my inherited millions. I just needed enough to disappear, he could have the rest. But that’s not what came out of my mouth, “I…. I have to say no. Smith, thank you so much for being so concerned about me. But I’m fine. I was sent away for what happened with Sam Evans, not because of anything else. But I’m better now. I’m fine.” Even I heard how flat and lifeless my words sounded.
“Ivy, I have a lot of money. Whatever I work on will be kept completely private, completely secret,” he promised. He was pleading with me, desperate to get me to agree. And I wanted to, I wanted to so bad.
“Smith, I can’t,” my voice broke and I shot nervous glances at the door every ten seconds. “Don’t worry though,” I was quick to assure him when I watched his face fall. “I have a plan. I swear to you I will be fine.”
“I know you will, kiddo,” he stood up from his desk and put a strong hand on my shoulder. “If you change your mind though, call me first thing.”
“I will,” I lied. I wouldn’t change my mind and if I did the minute I dialed Smith I would remember Honor and hang up. I moved to the door and sprinted out to the hall as if the devil were chasing me. Smith’s offer was way too risky to even consider.
And walking back into the great room where my mother was cuddled on the couch with Honor whispering all kinds of treacherous secrets into her ear I remembered why. Smith needed to stop playing my savior and focus on his daughter. My mother was a ruthless witch and she would do whatever she could, anyway that she could, to rip his happiness apart and steal everything of value from my little sister.
In two years, when I graduated high school and finally had the access to the trust I needed, Honor would be thirteen. She would be old enough to understand somewhat of went on in my world and why she needed to stay away. As long as she believed me, as long as Smith kept his umbrella of protection firmly over her, she would be safe.
I allowed myself one long shudder of fear, reminding myself of my goal and why I needed to deny Smith any help he offered. And then I joined my sister on the couch. I would relish this time with her, cherish it and adore her. My freedom had a countdown clock attached to it, but so did my relationship with my sister.
I guess it was true what they said, you couldn’t have it all.
Or, in my case, any of it.
Chapter Eighteen
Monday morning was the worst mornings of all. And this particular Monday morning was worse than most. The sky was overcast and cloudy, dripping with freezing rain that reminded everyone winter was close. The trees were almost completely bare, save for the last golden leaf that hung on, desperate not to die. The sidewalks were drenched with puddles and mud. And Central High loomed above me, void of even shadows this morning.
The building usually beamed like a beacon of refined beauty. Once the state capital building, it had sharp lines and aristocratic architecture. It stood directly next door to the gleaming white and pink marble of the Joslyn Art Museum and together the buildings were joined in aged beauty. They broke up the cold, heartless skyscrapers of downtown and forced sprawling lawns in an otherwise jungle of concrete and stone.
“I suppose I should go inside, huh?” I grumbled inside the warmth of Exie’s car.
“Do you want an umbrella?” Exie asked around a sip of her latte.
“Do you have one?” I turned back around to face her.
“Uh, no.” She shook her head causing her golden hair to shake out around her shoulders. Her blue eyes contorted into confusion.
“Then why did you ask if I wanted one?” I laughed. Exie had this incredible ability to take my mind off my problems and forget myself for a while.
“It just felt right.”
“It just felt right?” I repeated and mashed my lips together before I could ask any more questions. This conversation was not headed anywhere logical.
“Yep,” she grinned at me. “Who’s that with your boy toy?” Suddenly her expression was serious, scheming.
I followed her gaze and then worked at trying to swallow. “Uh, that’s Ryder Sutton.”
“Yeah, isn’t he all clichéd bad boy?” I tried to joke, tried to hide the notes of panic that were racing through me, pounding at my heart, tightening the bones that caged my lungs into vice grips of jealousy….
“Sure,” Exie agreed without paying much attention to me at all. “I’ll walk you in, yeah?”
Crap.
Honesty was so not my thing.
“Hey, Ex, he uh, it’s not that he’s off limits or anything, but he kind of has a girlfriend,” I explained weakly.
“I guess that’s not surprising,” she murmured. “He’s delicious.”
I laughed, unable to stop myself. “Is he a boy or a candy bar?”
“Maybe both?” Exie laughed too and then silence fell between us for two beats. “Ives, if you want him, just say so. You can trust me, you know? Besides, I was mostly just admiring from a distance anyway.”
I smiled at my friend because she really was a friend. Somehow I had thought our relationship completely a design of the cosmos without any real attachment, except for a kind of predatory protection for each other since we were going through the same thing. We were more though. There was an actual foundation to our friendship, real love between us.
It was the first time in my life I had been loved. Truly, deeply, genuinely loved. Even if it was all in the friendship form, I realized how rare those emotions directed at me were. And I drank them in; I closed my eyes and let them settle over me.
“No, it’s not that. He’s just different. He doesn’t seem even a little bit fazed by me. He’s like Smith. He sees through it all,” I explained.
“How?” Exie gasped and then narrowed her eyes on Ryder as he talked and laughed with Chase and Phoenix at the top of the stairs in front of the school.
“I have no idea. I’ve wondered if maybe he was sick as a kid, maybe went through what Smith did. I keep meaning to ask him if he’s ever had cancer but somehow it keeps slipping my mind.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Exie whispered.
I relaxed into the seat a little, relieved to be able to talk to somebody about this. “I make him mad all the time. It’s like I was born just to piss him off.” I laughed at the thought, how absurd it was to think he was the only male I could make mad besides Nix. “And he’s constantly making fun of me. And not in the flirty way, like he actually thinks I’m stuck up.”