With a mind to Ivy’s quickly draining energy, I scooped another helping of pasta alla vodka onto her plate and then set the serving spoon back in its place.
She was turned, listening to her aunt as she talked to her mother, a blank, hollow kind of torture coloring her face gray.
It’d been a horrible day, to put it mildly. Eager to get everything over with and limit the amount of media attention, Helen, Dave, and Ivy had chosen to do everything—visitation, funeral, and repast—on the same day. I’d hired security for us, guys who used to work on the police force before moving into the private sector, and they’d done a great job of making sure I didn’t have to worry about Ivy’s safety.
I glanced their way, and the man in charge, Baylor, gave me a nod while his partner, Hampton, surveyed the room.
The decision to do it all in one day had been a good one, it seemed, for media. Word of the service hadn’t gone public until a couple of hours in, and by then, the area had been fully secured and locked down.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t come with drawbacks. Ivy had been on her feet for the better part of eight hours, and emotionally, she was drained.
After a week of waiting to lay Cami to rest, and the reality of doing it, she was barely hanging on at all.
Carefully, I brushed the hair from her shoulder and leaned forward to put my lips to her ear.
“Eat, baby. Carbs are good.”
She startled at the sound of my voice but didn’t turn.
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know,” I conceded. My stomach knew the twisted, vacant illusion grief created. It said we didn’t need sustenance when we did; that we didn’t need the energy to go on. But now, on the other side of the cliff looking back, I knew better. The time would come when she’d need the fuel, when the energy would be welcome. And I wanted her to be ready. “Eat anyway.”
For the rest of today, for tonight—she would need it. I knew she wouldn’t be ready to rest until the very last tear had been shed, the last hug had been given, the memories had been basked in with her mother, and she’d already been going for so long.
Her glare was noticeable as she turned, but I took the fork in her hand as victory.
I needed her to eat. I didn’t need her to like me while she was doing it.
When I turned away from her and back to my plate, leaving nothing but an arm at the back of her chair to keep closeness established, I found her dad watching me. His eyes were keen, shiny with emotion, and, most important of all, approving.
And I didn’t need a decoder ring to know why.
The man’s heart was heavy and riddled with holes, and the stress of looking out for both his wife and daughter was almost unmanageable.
I was willing to help carry the burden of his family. I was willing to wade through the misplaced guilt of survivors left behind. And he was relieved to have the assistance.
Sam caught my attention from the bar across the room with a wave of a hand, so I leaned to the side and placed a kiss to the apple of Ivy’s cheek. She flinched at the contact.
“I’ll be right back,” I told her. “Just going to get a refill and say hello to Sam. Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head but said nothing, likely still mad about the food. I kissed her again and ignored the glare before rising out of my chair and stepping the two feet over to her dad. “Can I get you anything while I’m up, Dave?” I asked.
He startled at my question and looked up to find my eyes. Deep hazel and searching, his own were struggling to place me, even having made direct mental contact with me moments before. The grief-stricken mind was a bottomless ocean of confusion. Facts flitted and details roamed, and nailing down any one feeling was an impossibility—blocked off in an exercise in self-preservation.
“What’s that?” he asked in a fog.
I smiled kindly and repeated the question. “I’m headed over to the bar. Can I get you or Helen anything?”
“Uh, no,” he stuttered. “I think I’ll head that way myself in a minute. Could use the breather.”
I nodded my acquiescence and moved away, happy to give him the moment he needed to gather himself. I hated having people in my face, especially people I didn’t know well, when I was doing my best to process unwelcome emotion.
I glanced to Baylor and jerked my head, assuring he would keep an extra eye on Ivy while I was talking to Sam.
Baylor was an expert in his field, and a guy cut from my own professional cloth. He nodded back and signaled to Hampton that he’d be stepping farther into the room.
I exhaled a breath of relief and moved swiftly to the bar.
Sam was downing a glass of whiskey like a man half his age.
I smiled and nudged him with my shoulder as I sidled up next to him. “Needed a drink, huh?”
Sam guffawed. “Just about always anymore, Lee. But today, yeah. Especially today.”
Emotions raged on the surface as he relived the death of his own granddaughter. I could see it written in the tense line of his shoulders and the hard line of his jaw.
“Stirring up some shitty stuff,” I murmured, nodding to the bartender to get me a glass just like it.
Unlike the times of the past, I wouldn’t be overindulging today. I just wanted a little sip to take the very edge off.
Sam nodded and licked his lips, admitting, “It’s hard. Doesn’t ever stop being hard, and I know you know exactly what I mean. And poor Ivy. I feel for that girl like she’s one of my own. I wish I could say I can’t imagine the guilt she’s carryin’ around, but you and I both know we’ve seen it before.”
Me. He was talking about me, and the guilt I’d carried for years after Grace’s death. My throat tightened and my palms flexed, and all I could do was nod.
“How you holdin’ up?”
I shrugged. Who the fuck cared how I felt? To me, all that mattered was Ivy.
Sam shook his head and smacked me on the hand like a nun scolding a student. I pulled my hand back and rubbed it with a laugh. “What the hell was that for?”
“For being an ass. You gotta take care of yourself to take good care of her. Number one goddamn rule. Don’t be a jackass and fuck it all up by going into a tailspin of your own.”
I smiled at his frank words and gave his shoulder a thankful squeeze. Sam had always been like a grandfather to me, and I didn’t know what I’d do when I didn’t have him to turn to one day.
“I hear you. I promise. But I’m okay, Sam. All the shit. Everything I saw, everything I’ve been through. She’s alive, and she’s mine. I’m not going to do any-fucking-thing to mess that up.”
My eyes followed my thoughts, straight across the room to the woman of my dreams. Ivy had finished the pasta on her plate and had found a comforting spot in the crook of her dad’s arm. She was a vision, even cuddled up and reflective. Her soft face, her active green eyes. All of it just pointed to the fierce spirit inside of her I really loved.
Of all the places I never thought I’d go, Hollywood was it.
But seeing her with her dad and knowing the horrific grief of her mom, I had a feeling I was going to have to get used to it.
For as long as Ivy needed her parents, and for as long as they needed her, we’d be here to stay.
Everything else could wait.
My job on the force.
My life in Cold.
Everything.
I felt like a bit of a bastard for even having the luxury of a hefty inheritance to fall back on, but I guessed, ironically, it was the one time I could actually feel grateful toward my late father.
But it was my reality, and for once, I really was thankful.
The day before we flew out of Montana, I’d let the chief know I’d be taking a leave of absence. I had no idea when or if I’d be back, and honestly, it was of zero importance to me.
Ivy was my focus.
I needed her, and she sure as fuck needed me.