Kelso

Kneeling on the living room floor, I place Ivy’s leg and plaster in a garbage bag and tie a knot.

Ivy giggles and lifts an eyebrow. “Have you done this before?” 

Grinning, I double knot the tie and look up into her bright green eyes. God, I’ve missed the way she looks at me. As if I’m someone special. “We’ve had a few street kids with broken bones stay with us before. No, I didn’t do this for them, but I observed my sister help them figure out how to shower with a hunk of plaster attached to them.” 

Ivy’s smile falls away and sadness clouds her features. Placing a hand on her thigh, I’m about to tell her not to worry so much, but before I can she sits forward and holds my face in her hands. Her eyes roam my face with an intense and thoughtful stare. “So much more than people know,” Ivy whispers, and places a kiss next to my left eye. 

Swallowing roughly, I lower my head. Fear spirals through my chest and hardens; the heavy weight begs to slam to the ground. Ivy shakes me to my core. She sees me for more than I am, and secretly I love it. She makes me feel alive, but the further she has me falling, the more scared I become. What happens when I won’t allow her to touch me? When I need to hold her down as we make love? Will she be patient with me or will she see all my broken pieces and run for the hills?  

“Want to help me shower?” Ivy whispers seductively in my ear.

My heart speeds up and warmth flows through the blood in my veins. Groaning on the inside, I beg my cock to stay down. Think of anything else, anything except what Ivy is asking of me. What I’d give to put my hands on Ivy’s most sensitive areas. I crave to find out how she tastes, to suck and savor the soft porcelain skin between her legs. Oh fuck. I lay my hand casually over my jeans. How the fuck am I meant to stand with a massive hard-on? 

I turn back to Ivy; her head is tilted, and she’s waiting for my answer. Her irises blaze, and I know we’re both imagining how incredible it would be, to have our moment and come together as one. 

“I want to smack him,” Becca yells at the television.

And with the interruption our moment is broken. I stand up and walk into the kitchen, where I round the counter and face the living room.

Ivy follows me by hopping on one foot, her eyes glued to the edge of the counter. A mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Did I do that?” she asks, feigning innocence.

My lips tilt up and I try hard to hold back my laughter.

“Have these girls never heard of contraception before?” Becca says, and my eyes swing to the screen. Teen Mom is on. Yep, perfect, exactly what I need right now. Babies. Babies. Babies. Thank fuck, it’s working.

“Ives, I should head home. It's Saturday, one of our busiest work days.” It’s not a lie, but I’m not being honest either. How do I explain to her how badly I want her? How desperate I am to gaze at her naked body, to commit it to memory forever, but she can’t do the same with me. Bile will rise in my gut if she tries to go beneath my pants, where I have not allowed anyone else to touch.

Ivy’s eyes fall from mine. There is only silence, but I felt the drop of her stare like a bang ringing through my mind. The sound of rejection and hurt, and I was the one who delivered it to her.

“Okay, I understand. Work is important.” Her voice is distant and etched with longing.

I’m broken. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t let them go.

Ivy deserves so much more, but I can’t give it to her yet. I require more time to grow my courage and give us a first time she’ll always want to remember. 

Hard-on now under control, I walk around the counter and wrap my arms around Ivy. Even though Ivy’s feeling the sting of rejection, she still snuggles into my chest and holds on to me. 

“I’ll be back tonight,” I softly murmur into her hair. Ivy doesn’t look up. She nods silently into my chest, and my heart splits in two as I wonder if doubts are racing through her mind. 

Not happy with leaving us this way, I decide something needs to be said. I never wanted Ivy to know this part of me. I would be strong and suffer through our first time when I knew the time was right. Then I could conquer my fear every time after. All that matters is Ivy having a special memory of our first time. I want to look back and say I loved her right. 

Tilting Ivy’s chin up with my hand, I stare into her confused and glassy green eyes. “I’m sorry. I do want to. I just—” I stop midsentence as the words get stuck in my throat. I can’t do it, not yet. “We will soon, I promise.” Ivy shifts from a casual stance to a more focused one and her eyebrows furrow with curiosity. I’ve said too much. Shown too much. “See you later,” I say once more, and with a quick kiss on her lips, I’m walking out the door.

I’m a coward. I couldn’t even stay to see the moment Ivy realizes there’s something wrong with me. Thinking someone may see my weakness sends me into a spiral. Control of how I’m viewed is how I get through each day. I’m able to breathe easy by hiding how damaged I am.

Broken or not, I will make Ivy mine, body and soul. If I ever conquer this weakness, it will be with her. I pray it makes us and doesn’t break us. 

I’m about to get into my car, when a police cruiser pulls up. A man in uniform unfolds from the car. I’ve not met Ivy’s father yet—he never gave me the time of day at the hospital to come and tell me why I’m not good enough for his daughter—but I know it’s Sheriff Johnson without a doubt. The red I’m so familiar with shines through his thick gray-smattered hair. The man is average height, but stocky, with deep creases on his forehead.

The sheriff catches me observing him and returns my stare. His lip press together, so much so his mouth disappears behind his neatly trimmed gray beard. His aviator glasses hide what I’m certain is a hateful stare. He moves, not to his daughter’s house, but toward me.

Shutting the car door, I peer at my reflection in the window. White T-shirt, grease-covered jeans, and a hell of a lot of tattoos. Not the first impression I wanted to make when I first met Ivy’s father. I imagined clean jeans, my good leather jacket, and my short hair brushed back. Some effort to show how much I care for his daughter, and to slowly introduce my tattoo-covered arms, possibly after the man liked me. Not a chance in hell of it happening now. Striving to salvage the moment, I hurriedly flatten my disheveled hair, and when he approaches I nod and extend my arm. “Sir. I’m Kelso King. It’s nice to meet you.” 

My arm hangs there, unshaken with a clear rejection in the air. 

“Put down the fucking hand, I know who you are, King.” He spits out my last name with hatred and venom in his voice.

Dropping my arm, I realize I’m fighting a losing battle. This man has already made up his mind about me and my family. 

“My daughter is better than your kind. I won’t let you corrupt her. You’ll stay away from her or there will be consequences.”

“I care very much for Ivy, sir. I swear I only want to make her happy.” 

“Care for her?” the sheriff says on a bitter laugh. “She ended up broken and bruised in hospital because of you. If you cared for my daughter you’d end things with her.” 

I shake my head. “I can’t.” Peering into Eric Johnson’s eyes with nothing but sincerity, I open up. “I love your daughter, sir.” 

Sheriff Johnson spits on the ground beside my boot. “No,” he grates out in a rough voice. “You will end things with Ivy.”

Linking eyes with him, I reply, “No. I won’t.” 

The sheriff glances to his left, out into the distance as he exudes anger. He can’t believe I’m still standing before him, telling him no.

He turns his back on me and starts for the house, then abruptly he pivots and swings back around. I square up, tensing my body, preparing for anything as he barrels toward me. When I assume he’s about to put his hands on me he halts, our faces so close I can hear his heavy breaths. “I won’t warn you again. I will make your life, and your family’s, a living hell. You do not want me as your enemy.” 

On the inside I’m raging. No one threatens my family, but I need to keep my cool. This isn’t a gang member or thug I can beat sense into. This is the sheriff, and my girl’s father. My brothers have taught me when to shut up and walk away. 

Moving back, I open my car door and take a seat. 

“Good decision,” Sheriff Johnson announces, and walks up onto the sidewalk. 

I roll my eyes. The fucker thinks he’s won. He’s a fool. My V8 comes to life, and I’m eager to rev the engine a few times to piss him off, but choose to let it go and drive off. 

Peeking into the rearview mirror, I watch him turn away and march to his daughter’s house. I hope Ivy can get through to him, because there is no way I’m staying away from her.