Waiting Fate (8 page)

Ivy slammed down on the gas pedal, shooting out of the driveway. Her tires squealed as she spun around the corner and onto the highway. By the time she reached the freeway she was going fast enough to lose her license if she got caught, but all she could think of was Desee, and her foot didn’t let up. She roared into Playground Sports’ parking lot fifteen minutes later, alarmed to see a crowd gathered around her parents’ SUV. She was out of the car before she had put it in park, almost falling as a wave of dizziness threatened to take over, and hit the unlock button on the spare key as she crashed against the hood of her own car.

Bev swung the SUV door open, making cooing noises. “She’s okay. She’s okay!” Bev called over her shoulder.

Jack came over, putting his arm around Ivy. “Are you okay?” She nodded, swallowing hard. Now that the adrenaline had subsided, the pain and sickness was back. “Um… how fast were you going?” He lowered his eyebrows at her and she forced a smile.

“You don’t want to know,” she said, trying not to wheeze like some weird diseased person.

****

Monday morning, Jack bundled her up and dragged her to the doctor. “You have a nasty case of strep throat,” the kind man with white hair and spectacles told her. He had a southern drawl and he was big — like he had maybe been a Texas football player in his younger days. He gave Ivy a prescription for antibiotics and a warning to stay away from everyone for twenty-four hours. She curled up in bed and cursed the fact that she was missing school.

Where you been?
Ivy smiled at the text. Gunner, checking up on her.

Dying. Almost better though
. It was true, the antibiotics were working wonders.

Seconds later, her phone beeped again.
How long you grounded for?
Ivy grinned. Gunner had a rare ability to make her laugh. All the boys did, even Jay in all his orneriness, but Gunner was especially good at it.

I’ll be ungrounded tomorrow morning, but I think I’m skipping school
.
Again
.

It was a half-hour later, while Ivy was watching cartoons with Desee, that her phone beeped again.
Game night at your house, tomorrow night.
Ivy felt her heart heal a little more. They were great, amazing friends, these boys of hers.

Can’t wait.

The next morning, when Ivy had most of her voice back, she looked up the number for the judicial court in Alaska. Her fingers shook as she dialed, and her voice wavered as she asked the clerk who she should talk to. “Well, I can probably answer your question,” the woman said. Her voice was efficient but not frightening, although none of that mattered if one had a still-unnamed phone phobia.

Ivy explained her situation, finishing with, “My ex — er, soon-to-be ex-husband says our baby has to live in Alaska for the two months prior to the court date for it to be under Alaskan jurisdiction. But I don’t want to live in the same state as he does, if I can help it.”

“And you already have a court date set?” the woman asked.

“Yes. In a month.”

“Well, it’s a complicated situation, and he might be right, but that doesn’t mean you have to move back here. All it means is that you might have to file for divorce in the state the child is living in. But, since you have a court date, I would keep it and see what the judge says.”

“Okay. Thank you so much.” Ivy hung up feeling better than she had in days. Hope. There was hope on the horizon.

****

Gunner was the first to show up. Ivy opened the door in baggy red sweatpants and an oversize black sweatshirt, her dark hair pulled up in a messy bun.
Oh yeah, I look gorgeous.
But she didn’t have enough energy to make herself presentable. “Hey.” She smiled, but her voice still sounded embarrassingly froggish.

Gunner stepped through the back door, carrying several board games in his arms. “Everyone else is coming. They had to stop and get ‘drinks.’” He rolled his eyes.

Ivy looked up, alarmed. “They aren’t bringing them here, are they?”

Gunner quirked an eyebrow at her but shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

Ivy shrugged, shaking her head. “My ex used to drink. He was a… mean… drunk. I swore I’d never have alcohol in the house if Desee was home.”

Gunner set the boxes on the coffee table and sat on the floor next to them. “That’s a good plan. Where is she? We’ve been hanging out for months, and I’ve never met her.”

Ivy nodded toward the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. “She goes to bed at seven. I try to plan my schedule for when she’s sleeping.”

Gunner nodded as he leaned back on his elbows and studied her. “Ah. I see. You’re a great mom, you know that?”

Ivy felt color rush to her cheeks. “I — I try,” she stuttered. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes. Ivy tried to figure out how to ask if Archer was coming without sounding like a giddy teenager. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d told him she wouldn’t be able to come watch football Sunday.

“So what’s going on with your divorce? Is it over yet?” Gunner asked. He was picking at a thread on his pants, not looking at her, but Ivy could see the tense set of his shoulders.

Please don’t judge me, Gunner. I’m doing the best I can
, Ivy thought. He didn’t have a thing against divorce like Jay did, as far as she was aware, but he seemed awfully uncomfortable with the conversation. “No.” She sighed. “I thought it would be over by Christmas, but now I’m not sure. There are jurisdiction issues.”

“That’s terrible,” Gunner said, his face falling in disappointment.

Ivy frowned, all kinds of confused. It did suck, but why did he look like a kicked puppy? “It could be worse. I’m healing. That’s why it’s so great to have friends like you guys. There’s no pressure to date or anything. Just good friends.” She hoped he hadn’t heard the lie in her voice because
clearly
her heart had other ideas, no matter how much her head tried to stay in control. He nodded, looking away.

Headlights shone through the window, bouncing off the mirror on the wall, and Gunner jumped to his feet. “I’m gonna make sure they leave the alcohol outside.” He disappeared before she could say another word.

“Everything okay in here?” Bev poked her head around the corner.

“Yeah, Mom. We’re just getting started.”

“Hi, Mrs. Bleu,” Gunner said, waving as he came back into the house, sliding the door closed behind him.

“Hello, Gunner. It was sure nice of you to come cheer Ivy up. This has been hard on her.”

Ivy smiled, looking from her mom to Gunner. “It’s true.”

“I’m happy to help. However I can,” he said, his light green eyes meeting Ivy’s before skipping away.

“Hey, sickly,” Austin said, good-naturedly shoving Gunner out of the way as he came through the door.

“Hey, stranger. It’s been a while.” Ivy waved. Her mom said hi and disappeared as more boys came in — Jay followed Austin, and Archer came behind him. Ivy wished she’d spent more time making sure she didn’t look like a homeless person.

Gigi came in last. “Wow. It’s like a get-well party for Ivy!” she exclaimed. Ivy hadn’t seen Gigi for several days, and after months of hanging out almost every night, Ivy had missed her. She brought light into Ivy’s life, and Ivy needed all the light she could get.

It took several minutes of arguing before they could decide on a game to play. Ivy lay on the floor and waited for them to decide. “You look miserable,” Archer said, sitting next to her and watching the others argue.

“Yeah, kinda.” She rolled her head to the side to look at him. “But I’m glad you guys are here.”

“Me too. I missed you.” Holy Hannah, his eyes were pretty. Were boys allowed to have pretty eyes? His eyelashes —

“Hey! Are you guys playing or what?” Gunner snapped.

“Ivy, since you’re the sick one, you get to go first.” Austin handed her the dice with a grin.

“Awesome,” she rasped. “Prepare to lose, all of you.”

They might have lost, if Ivy had been able to stay awake through the game. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep, sometime after her parents came to say goodnight, but before she had conquered enough territory in the game to be an emperor. She woke up to the world rocking gently, but her drugged brain couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on. She forced one eye open enough to see Archer and realize he was carrying her like a baby up the stairs. To her bedroom. If she hadn’t been drugged and exhausted and mostly asleep, her heart might have leaped out of her chest at the mere thought of Archer in her bedroom, although the fact that she shared a room with Desee did put a damper on things. However, she was too drugged and exhausted and mostly asleep, so she was just grateful for his help.

Archer laid her on her bed, pulling the blankets up around her. “Get well soon, Ivy,” he whispered, running his knuckle across her cheekbone, oh-so-gently. And then he was gone, and Ivy felt like she would never be able to sleep again, replaying the memory of him tucking her in over and over, because that’s what girls
do
. For about five seconds, and sleep did, in fact, reclaim her.

****

She went back to school the next day, still weak but feeling tons better. “Hey, Ivy.” Drew, the boy she’d sat with at the play last weekend, slid into the empty seat next to hers right before Greek History started.

“Hi.” She smiled, grateful that she only sounded a little bit like a frog now.

“I was beginning to think I’d offended you in some way, and you were skipping class to avoid me.” His accent was thrilling, and Ivy had a hard time paying attention to what he was actually
saying
with that accent. She wanted him to keep talking just so she could hear him talk, but he paused, waiting for her to participate in the conversation.

Her brain raced to come up with an answer that didn’t involve unintelligible mumbling. “Not at all. I had strep.”
Ah, there. Good job, Ivy. Actual words.

“Strep? Sounds nasty.”

Not when you say it
, she thought, but aloud she said, “Yeah. So it was out of the kindness of my heart that I didn’t come to school. I didn’t want to give it to you.”

“Oh, that was terribly nice of you,” he smirked.

“I know. I’m just that sweet.” Her grin widened.

“Yes, now that I’ll believe.” Before the blush could inflame her cheeks, their teacher demanded their attention and she had to look away. She let the hair fall over her face, shielding her — and her bright red cheeks — from view.

After class, Drew followed her out the door and into the hallway. “Where are you heading now?” he asked.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, pausing until he caught up. “I’m done for the day. Heading to the top of the hill to get my car.”

He fell into step beside her, shouldering his backpack. “I have tennis practice. I’m heading that way as well.” He looked pleased, and his accent sent shivers up her spine.

“Well. Isn’t that convenient,” she teased.

“Can I walk you?” She could feel him watching her face, but when she looked up to meet his eyes, he flushed and looked away.

“Of course.” They talked about the play and Greek History — the class, not the actual history, and the fact that they both liked tennis. Ivy had told him, while they waited for the play to start, that she was getting divorced and had a baby, and he’d asked how things were going. By the time they’d made it to the top of the hill, she was out of breath and out of conversation starters.

“Ivy, can I ask you something?” She stopped and nodded, trying to discreetly suck in air because he didn’t seem to be winded at all. “Would you allow me to take you to dinner on Friday?”

All too aware of the students swarming around them, most of whom watched them both with open curiosity like they were caught in a train wreck, Ivy blinked stupidly at him. “Di — dinner?” she stuttered.

“Yes, I’d like very much to take you to dinner.”

“I — I would, too. Yes, of course,” she said.
Now what?
her panicked mind asked.

When she still only stared at him, he snickered. “I’ll need your phone number, then.”

She closed her eyes, briefly. “Right. Sorry, I’m not great at this.”
Hello, blush. I haven’t missed you at all, you know.

“It’s alright. You make up for it by simply being beautiful.” If she hadn’t been blushing before, she was the color of a fire truck now. She tried not to stutter as she gave him her phone number. He texted her, just to make sure they connected. She held up her phone. “Got it.”

Chapter Seven

I need to talk to you. Call ASAP.
Ivy glanced down at her phone with a frown. She’d been ignoring Vick’s calls for two days, so he’d given up calling and started texting. She glanced at Archer on one side of her and then checked Austin on the other. Gunner was behind her. All three had spent the last hour trying to explain the rules of hockey to her while she’d froze and tried not to shiver.

But for the second, none of them were paying attention. She wrote back,
No.
Her heart pounded and her palms were sweaty, but she also felt like she should pat herself on the back. Her phone instantly starting buzzing — like it was trying hard to show her how angry the caller was.

Archer looked over, raising an eyebrow. “You okay?”

She grimaced and stuffed her phone in her pocket, trying to ignore it. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay, so that move right there, that’s illegal. That’s why they’re putting him in that box.” Austin pointed out on the ice.

“Also known as the penalty box?” Ivy quipped, grinning mischievously.

“Ha ha. Funny girl.” Gunner tugged on a strand of her pony tail and she giggled. Some country song blared over the speakers, one that Ivy thought wildly inappropriate and had always changed the station as soon as it came on. Behind her, Gunner started singing it, and then Austin joined him and Archer too, and Ivy was certain it was the hottest song she’d ever heard. She wanted to freeze the moment and block out everything else but these boys and their enthusiastic singing. For the rest of her life, she was going to love that song.