Writing On The Wall (The King Brothers Duology #2)

Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

IVY

Toby slams the trunk of his car shut, his gaze darting between me and Ethan across the field. “You sure there aren’t any sparks there?” he asks, leaning back with his arms folded.

“The only sparks are the ones I’d like to light under his butt.” I smile, imagining that delightful scenario. “He’s an egotistical nerf-herder.”

“Remind me why you hate each other again?”

“I told you about the day I met him, didn’t I?” Toby just shrugs, so I take it as his permission to unload the full story while he organizes files and boxes in his car. “Ember was at work, and I stopped by to show her the cutest hiking boots. I mean, you should have seen these boots! For a thrift store find, they were in pristine condition—” My eyes flicker to Toby’s bored face, making me pause. “You don’t care about the boots, do you?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Okay, so I’m showing Ember the boots, and I climb onto a step to give her a better angle, and in storms Mr. Grouchy pants. Doesn’t say a word, either, just manhandles me off the bench I was standing on then insults me and my choice of footwear!”

“And that sealed your fate as mortal enemies?”

“Well, obviously. You know how I feel about both of those things.”

“I’m sorry, Vee.” He smiles softly. “I’ll kick his butt if he insults you again. After all, it’s my fake boyfriend duty.”

“My hero.” I let out a short laugh, picturing Toby trying to take on Ethan. He sure has the muscles to pummel Toby in seconds. Stop thinking about Ethan’s muscles.

He shuts the door to his car. “Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow. Want me to text you those photos later?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I whisper as Toby pulls me in for a tight hug. I get a lot of hugs from eight-year-olds who squish me around my waist. But Toby’s slight height advantage means I get an over the shoulder squeeze that momentarily fills some of the voids.

I get lost in thought on the way to my own car, reflecting on how nice it would be to get some kind of affection on the regular. If Toby’s hug makes me go, that was great, I needed that , I can’t imagine what the strong, protective embrace of a man who saw me as more than a sister might feel like.

My eyes catch Ethan’s form once again, and I snigger, pitying his poor dates and what they must suffer through. The douchery that spews out of his mouth can’t be worth a hug from his admittedly ripped arms.

“Ivy! Wait up!”

“Hey Stef.” I wave to one of my co teachers, turning back toward her to avoid any questions about the state of my car. But I’m too slow. She’s jogging, reaching me in seconds with her long, giraffe legs. She’s probably around five-foot-eight, but staring up at her with those extra seven-and-a-half inches still elicits a crick in my neck .

Stef’s a first-grade teacher, but she and I are cool for the most part, having been hired within the same year. We’ve figured things out together, bonding over our mutual what did I sign up for? feeling.

Stef’s eyes track Toby’s car as it pulls away, a small furrow on her brow. He’s finally out of sight and she turns her attention back to me. I bite my top lip when I catch her frowning at all the stuff in my Toyota.

“You moving?”

“Oh, um…no. Taking some stuff to Goodwill. What’s up?”

Please don’t ask more questions.

“Right, listen, I’m glad I caught you. Can you look at something real quick?” She opens the tote bag hanging from her shoulder, her head of dark curls almost disappearing while she digs around. The oversized tote is a teacher’s best friend. In fact, I have everything I could possibly need to survive an apocalypse stuffed inside the one I’m currently carrying. Sure, I’d probably be zombified in the twenty minutes it’d take to dig up a weapon sharp enough to defeat the undead, and I can’t carry a knife around at school, but I guarantee I have at least four things I could use to impale a zombie’s brain in here. Destroy the brain, kill the zombie. It’s a pity my second graders are too young for me to impart this knowledge.

Stef’s taken a full two minutes to locate the paper she’s now holding out for me.

“I wanted to run the field trip schedule by you before passing it along to C.J. I’ve planned out all the time slots and proposed activities, as well as the small group numbers for each. I was going to email it to you, but seeing as you’re here, I thought I’d swing by and hand it to you. Can you see anything I’ve missed that should be on there?”

I reach for the paper, hoping it’s not as number heavy as she’s just eluded .

Yeah. Numbers. Numbers that jump out and hide all at the same time. My eyes bounce over the page, trying to catch a single category I can make sense of. It’s like looking at an infographic a four-year-old made, except I know Stef’s actually put together a very organized schedule.

I usually get Toby to help with these things. He must have caught on to my struggle over the years, but he’s never asked. He’s just become my unspoken support system who’s willing to help me with all the things an adult should be able to do.

“Um…” I lift my wrist, pretending to glance at the time. “Can I get back to you? I’ll text you my thoughts. I’ve gotta rush home.”

“Oh, of course. And those are just suggestions. Feel free to shuffle things around. Thanks, Ivy. And good luck with your Goodwill dropoff. Looks like you’ve got a lot of stuff there.” She smiles kindly before walking back to her car.

I wave like a dork as I watch her drive away. When I turn, Ethan is sauntering toward his truck—parked just two spaces from mine. He’s carrying a contraption that looks like a giant pair of chopsticks. With a casual lift, he hoists it over the back of his truck, then he leans lazily against the tailgate as he eyes my overpacked car.

If the earth could temporarily swallow me up, I might actually sign up for that. Not a permanent end, just a temporary hidey-hole type thing, so I can be spared the result of the cogs about to turn in this man’s pompous head.

I don’t want him figuring anything out. From what Ember has told me, Ethan is the biggest snitch alive. I’m sure he’d just love the chance to pass along incriminating information to his brother, which means Ember will know I’m homeless, too. And I refuse to give my friend cause to worry or to risk a distraction during her beautiful wedding-planning season.

I’m still shuffling over to my car when Ethan has the audacity to wipe his face with the collar of his shirt, flashing a sliver of tanned skin. I stop to unlock the door, and his eyes move over me slowly, starting at my shoes and continuing up to map every inch of me with a narrowed gaze. His brow lowers as he shifts to scan the contents of my backseat.

“Why’s there so much stuff in your car?”

“Why’s there so little stuff in your head?”

“You know, Marsh, it would help if you at least tried to be civil. Seein’ as we’re going to be spending more time together.”

“Right.” I nod, opening the door and immediately shifting clothes and shoes over so I can climb inside. It’s very anti-climatic. “Let’s try to keep that to a minimum, shall we?”

I feel the satisfying clunk once I finally slam my door shut and bug my eyes with a tight smile before driving away.

Gah! Aggravating man!

The first time I met him, he basically called me stupid for wearing heels, and now he has the nerve to question the state of my car?

I can’t deal with Ethan’s lack of human decency on top of the turmoil in my personal life. He and his ego need to float on out, because the last thing I need is a man telling me all the things I’m doing wrong.