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

Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ETHAN

So that went well. I watch Ivy’s sassy little saunter as she stomps down the hallway. Her cut-off jeans and Crocs make her attempt at angry walking more adorable than intimidating.

I pull out my phone to text Colton an update, since I’m following his terrible advice.

Ethan

Epic fail on talking to Ivy btw

Colton

I’m going to need details

Ethan

I told her to break up with her boyfriend. Then she stomped off

Colton

You’re an idiot

How have you ever gotten a date before?

Ethan

*Gif of Joey Tribiani’s shocked face*

I tried to be smooth, but I fumbled, okay?

Colton

Ya think?

Ethan

I can’t do this with you right now. I’ll call you later

Colton

While I look forward to hearing about your attempts to come back from this, you should do something nice for her

Show her you’re not an ass

Maybe my brother’s forgotten, but this all started with me doing nice things for Ivy.

Besides, it’s probably a good idea to give her some space, let her cool down while the effects of my foot-in-mouth syndrome wear off.

I go on to examine the bathroom, grateful to find it doesn’t need a lot of work. The shower and bathtub will eventually need to be replaced, but for now, new fixtures and fresh paint will suffice.

I grab a ladder next and follow the echoes of music to the room Ivy’s retreated into, hoping for a redo on not being a jerk.

She keeps her back turned to me while she sways and bops along with the country music coming from her phone. The room is empty aside from an ornate wooden wardrobe pushed up against the wall. The entrance to the room faces three large, slightly offset windows framed by floral curtains. I quietly place the ladder in the center of the room, then lean against it as I watch Ivy dance.

“Nice moves, Marsh. ”

“Ethan! Gah! What is wrong with you?” She shoots me a venomous look, the tips of her fingers nudging her glasses up. “Jeez. I hope you know you’re not as smooth as you think you are, leaning against your ladder with your I’m so cool look,” she says mockingly.

“Did you just try to imitate my voice?”

She responds by sticking her tongue out, which elicits a belly laugh from me. Every one of her attempts at being feisty just makes her more adorable.

“I’m sorry.” I shrug. “I figured I would’ve scared you either way. Whatcha scraping at there?” I frown at the seams in the wall.

“I’m not sure. There’s a weird line here.” She points.

I step closer, letting my fingers run along the wood, feeling for discrepancies. I’ve only seen something like this once before, but it would be amazing if this is what I think it is. I shove the wardrobe a foot over and marvel at the rectangular outline faintly visible along the wall. I push my fingertips against the panel, and my eyes dart to Ivy’s when there’s a soft click. The panel pops open, hinges squeaking as the door moves inward.

“No. Freaking. Way,” Ivy says in a breathy exhale.

She steps inside the opening, and I crouch to follow her into the tiny room. It’s so small that I doubt it could fit more than a twin-sized bed with little space left over. Two antique bookshelves hug the wall to our right, and a wine-colored wingback chair sits in the other corner. Ivy tiptoes further in and switches on a dim lamp tucked behind the velvet chair.

“I can’t believe Gran never told me about this.” She spins in a slow circle, her eyes tracing the two large paintings that face the shelves. “This must have been hidden here the whole time she was renting out the house—her trinkets have just been inside this room, gathering dust. ”

She delicately lifts a miniature owl statue from the shelf, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “She used to complain endlessly about the flood of owl-themed gifts she received. She made one offhanded comment about finding them cute, and for the next thirty years, that’s all people gave her. She ended up donating most of them when she moved out, but it seems she held onto this one,” she muses, cradling the figurine gently in her hands.

“This room feels like a time capsule,” I remark as I move closer. The door creaks behind me, and we both instinctively freeze, our eyes locked on its slow movement until it clicks shut.

“Ethan…tell me you can open that door.”

I mean, being locked in here with her wouldn’t be the worst thing. It’s not the most romantic place, but at least she can’t run away when I try to talk to her.

Okay, that sounds creepy in hindsight. Let the record show that I in no way want to keep her anywhere against her will.

I rake my fingers through my beard as I stare at the door, the one that has no handle and opens inward. I start feeling my way over the paneling again inspecting it like a caveman, tapping and knocking on different spots and pretending to know what I’m doing.

Hell, we’re really stuck.

I turn to give Ivy the bad news, and maybe to capitalize on our moment alone. Hey, I’m just maximizing the opportunities as they present themselves. “It’s not opening.” I smile but I probably look like one of those Wallace and Gromit characters with their teeth bared.

Her breath catches, and she exhales in a series of short, panicked breaths. With every second, her eyes seem to grow bigger, and she shrinks back against the wall. She is freaking the heck out .

“Ivy, look at me. It’s gonna be okay. I have my phone, see?” I pull it out, wiggling it in front of her. “I’ll text Colton to come open the door. Everything’s fine.”

She shakes her head, fear sparking in her eyes. “I don’t like small spaces.” She runs her hands through her hair then shakes them out in front of her. She begins to pace, so I gently grasp her hands, setting them down over my chest.

“Hey. Can you look at me?” I nod reassuringly when she finally tips her head back to meet my gaze. “Good girl. Can you feel my heartbeat?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can you take a slow breath with me?”

We manage five slow inhales and exhales together, and she finally begins to breathe more calmly.

“You’re doing so great. I’m gonna text Colton, okay?”

“Yup,” she chokes out.

I leave her hands on me while I pull out my phone, feeling a little like an ass for relishing in the fact that she’s letting me help her. I hate that she’s freaking out. But the feeling of her hands against my chest causes my stomach to do that same swoopy thing it does when we argue.

“What if he’s busy?” She drops her hands to resume her pacing. “We could be stuck here forever.”

The door isn’t up to standard, and don’t doubt I could break it open with a hard shove of my shoulder. But it’d require a costly repair or a custom replacement.

She continues treading back and forth, muttering to herself, but at least she’s stopped hyperventilating. “I’m gonna die in here. I’ve never even left Texas! But I’m going to die. Single and alone.”

I quirk my head as her rambling continues. “First of all, you’re not going to die in here?—”

“You can’t be sure of that,” she snaps without looking up, her brows knitted tightly.

“Mmm…pretty confident, actually. Se condly, ouch. Hi, person who’s literally stuck in here with you.” I wave then gesture to myself. “So—not alone. Thirdly—and possibly most interestingly—I’ll remind you that you claim not to be single.”

“I made that up, okay! Toby’s just a friend. It was a misunderstanding, and now I’m going to shrivel up from dehydration, and Gran will find me years from now, the tiny little raisin who lied to her.”

There’s so much in there that I want to unpack, things that make me ridiculously giddy—but her breathing is quickening again, so I put a pin in her confession.

I step in closer, cupping her face.

“Ivy June. Can you look at me?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” She continues to ramble. “I’m struggling to match this…this new side of you with the grumpy, bossy Ethan I know.” Her hand flutters, gesturing up and down my body, making me grin stupidly.

I lean a fraction closer, closing in the distance between us with a deep inhale. My brows pull together while I try and figure out a way to explain those initial reactions to her. “Think of all the times I’ve been grumpy, Ivy. What were you doing each of those times?”

“Breathing?”

I shake my head, hoping to convey the feelings I’m still too chicken to verbalize. “You were putting yourself in harm’s way. And yeah, okay, at the restaurant I was annoyed about having to listen to you gush over another guy. But since the day I met you, seeing you in danger kind of freaks me out.”

Her head rears back ever so slightly, and she frowns while her eyes bounce between mine. Her feet haven’t moved, and we’re still close enough that I’m mesmerized by the different shades of green surrounding her pupils.

It’s like my brain and my body have taken her babbling confession a few minutes ago as a green light, and I’m involuntarily moving full-steam ahead. Other than her sort of hating me—there’s nothing stopping me from pursuing her now. And I can work with that.

For years I’ve been worried that my fear of missing out would inevitably ruin any romantic relationship I might have. But until now, I’ve never experienced even a fraction of the fulfillment I get from caring about this woman, not in any of my craziest adventures. I’ve taken so many physical challenges and financial risks, but after experiencing the tiniest connection with Ivy, I’m finally willing to take an emotional risk. The alternative just seems soul crushing.

“But—” she begins, bringing me back from my epiphany.

“Ivy—”

“You’re always growling?—”

“Ivy—”

Her eyes finally trace back to mine. I’m still cupping her jaw while one hand slides to the back of her neck. Traces of confusion are etched on her face, but her gaze falls to my lips. Her palms return to my chest, and this time, her fingertips curl in to grip my shirt. When her lips part with a breath, I move closer, my mouth aching to taste hers.

Her eyes flutter closed before flinging open again, wide and startled when my phone rings and ruptures the building tension.

I cringe and bring the phone to my ear. Ivy steps away as I answer. She’s got her arms folded now, defenses freshly reinforced.

I’m learning this pursuit may be a ‘one step forward, two steps back’ kind of thing. Not that I’m deterred, only more determined.

“Ethan, hi!” I wince at the high-pitched voice coming through the phone. “I know we planned to meet at Capelli’s, but my car is acting up. Could you pick me up? ”

“Sandra?” I furrow my brow in confusion.

“Of course, silly. So can you pick me up for our drink?”

Ivy’s got a fresh storm brewing in her eyes. There’s no doubt she can hear Sandra’s squawking. I’m flipping through files in my brain, searching for any memory of committing to a date with Sandra.

It’s not easy, since I’m distracted and trying to read every micro-expression flashing across Ivy’s face. I’m dying to know what she’s thinking and wondering whether she would have let me kiss her had we not been interrupted.

My eyes pinch closed as I realize I have a mess to clean up. I know I come across as an ass, but I can’t just ditch Sandra when I apparently committed to going out with her.

“Sandra…can you give me a minute? I’ll call you back.”

I hang up, not overly concerned about being polite when I need to explain to Ivy that it’s not what it looks like. Has any man ever made a comeback after that statement?

“Ivy—”

Our heads swing to the door as we hear the click on the other side. Colton’s face is apprehensive as he pushes it open.

“Why do you look so scared?” I ask him.

“Wasn’t sure what I’d find in here.” He shrugs.

Ivy bolts past me, rushing out the door. “Thanks Colton, um, I’ve gotta go.” She pauses to swap her Crocs for wedges and my gut twists when she avoids looking even remotely in my direction.

My jaw slackens, and my eyes flicker to Colton. He’s standing with his lips pursed and his hands in his pockets. There’s a look of brotherly empathy in his eyes, but it’s like a punch to the gut, because I’ve only seen that look on him when I’ve really screwed up.

By the time I bring my gaze back to Ivy, she’s throwing another “thank you” over her shoulder, and then she’s gone .

I hear her as the car drives away, and my head falls back with a groan.

“I know, okay. I’ll fix it.”

Colton’s hands lift in surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”

“Thanks for coming.”

He nods with a thin smile. “Need any more help?”

I let out a swoosh of air. “Nah, I’ve got this. Thank you.”

I’m actually not so sure I’ve got this, but I’m forming a plan. Before I can put it in place, I need to do something else unpleasant—I’ve got to deal with Sandra.