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

Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ETHAN

Marco keeps snickering and shaking his head every time we pass the wall—the one with the list and the notes Ivy and I have been exchanging. Her latest addition feels like warm, gooey chocolate sauce poured over ice cream.

You’re realy good at what yuo do.

What is it about Ivy’s compliments that make my insides turn to mush?

“Would you hurry your ass up?” I grumble halfheartedly. “This mess needs to be cleaned before Ivy gets home.”

“Man,” he shakes his head teasingly, “you are whipped.” His shoulders shake as he continues on, hefting bits of drywall into the trailer hitched to the back of my truck.

“Dude, don’t be the exclamation in Panic! At The Disco . Ivy has a boyfriend. We’re barely friends. I’m just helping her ‘cause Colton asked me to.” We lift the wheelbarrow together and empty its contents into the trailer. I pull off my gloves and use my arm to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Marco clears his throat, nudging me with an elbow.

My stomach drops when I turn, finding Ivy’s slitted eyes laser-focused on me and her hands fisted at her waist. How did I miss her arrival? There’s no doubt she heard my words—their effect is currently evident in her face. But I only said them for Ivy’s sake, to get Marco off my back and protect her fake relationship. If it were up to me, I’d happily admit to Marco that I’m beyond whipped, but I’m just hoping for a pity date. Although going out would probably have to be dinner in so long as she’s continuing her ruse with Toby. And to keep up that nauseating facade, we couldn’t allow word to get out that we’re dating. But hopefully we’re dating…or will be soon.

In other words, regardless of Ivy’s feelings for me, it’s official. I’m whipped. Not mad about it, either.

My mouth involuntarily curls up into a smirk as I stare back at the feisty little thing trying to fry my brain with her eyes.

Marco’s gaze bounces between us while he slowly lifts a finger to point inside. “I…need to go…sweep things.”

I continue smiling at Ivy while Marco speedwalks away from the tension forming across the driveway. “How was dress shopping?” I call out. “You ignored my text. Your stitches okay?”

She folds her arms, lips pursing while she gazes down the street. “We’re barely friends. I don’t see how that’s information you’d need to know.”

“Ivy June,” I begin, softening my tone. “You know how I feel about you. I only told him that to throw him off, for your sake, not mine.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit while she moves hair out of her face, still seemingly captivated by her neighbors’ front lawn. With deliberate steps, I close the gap between us, gently taking hold of her hand. She doesn’t protest as I lead her to the side of the house, where we’re hidden from the road. With my back propped against the siding, I pull her in closer, leaving a bit of space so she doesn’t feel caged-in.

“I missed you today,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, yet my grin betrays the joy within. I’m captivated by her presence, unable to tear my gaze away. Each freckle, curve, and crease on her face forms a mesmerizing tapestry that I could study forever.

“Is that why you used your mom to spy on me?” she asks, her tone soft yet guarded, maintaining the invisible barriers between us. Though she allows me to draw her near, her arms remain crossed over her body, a silent reminder of the boundaries she’s set.

“Maybe,” I admit. “But besides your latest brush with danger, how was your day?”

“Dress shopping was fun. A little rocky at the start, but…it ended well,” she says, shaking her head contemplatively.

“Good. And your stitches?”

“A little achy, but fine.”

I nod. “Ready to see your brand new open-living space?” I ask, resisting the urge to yank her in even closer, yearning to wrap my arms around her and bury my face in the warmth of her neck.

A bright smile overtakes her face “I’m dying to.”

She lets me take her hand until we round the corner of the house before she slips her small palm from mine, leaving me feeling robbed. I’m praying that one day I’ll have the right to hold her hand proudly for everyone to see.

Ivy gasps as we step inside, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. “Oh! It looks amazing! There’s so much more space in here. Thank you!” I stay close as she slowly spins around the room, ready to catch her if she trips .

Marco continues sweeping up the last bit of debris, though he’s grinning proudly now, eating up Ivy’s praise. “Thanks, man. I’ll take it from here,” I tell him, acknowledging his hard work as I reach for the broom.

Ivy thanks him with a warm smile before he leaves, and I pick up the pencil near our list, holding it out to her.

“I feel like you should do it,” she says, eyeing the pencil like it’s a piece of candy she wants to grab, “seeing as you did all the work.”

“You’re practically salivating over it, Marsh. Take it.” I chuckle when she bites her lip before finally snatching the pencil and slowly drawing a line through the words on our list.

“The carpets will need to come out next, but the wood floors underneath should be good. Hopefully, all they’ll need is a good sanding and refinishing.”

Her eyes light up again. “I can’t wait. I’ve been chomping at the bit to rip them out. Can we do it tomorrow?”

“I’ve gotta go to the office tomorrow, and you’ve got school, Miss Marsh. You also will not be ripping anything out until your stitches are healed.”

She pouts adorably, straightening the bow on her hair. “I guess that’s wise.”

My hands slide into my pockets as I step closer, my eyes locked onto hers. “How about this: I’ll bring dinner tomorrow night, and after our date, you can watch me rip out the carpets. I’ll even take my shirt off halfway through the job, just for you.”

Her jaw slackens before she shuts it with a swallow. “I told you, we can’t…I…Gran thinks…”

“You sound real convincing.” I smirk, standing an inch away from her pretty green eyes. I can feel her warm breath on my neck as she stares up at me, fighting an internal battle. I don’t think it’d take much to change her mind. But I want her fully invested when she finally agrees. I don’t care if she has to fake date Toby for a little while. Okay, I do care—I’m jealous, and it pisses me off…a lot. But I’d deal with it if it meant having her.

“We can’t,” she repeats with barely a whisper. I lean a fraction closer, watching her eyes flutter closed. Her lips part ever so slightly, and I nearly groan at the temptation. But I’m playing the long game now.

“This may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I said I wouldn’t kiss you till you asked, Marsh.” And with that, I straighten and take a few steps back. Her eyes shoot open, that jaw that I’m dying to pepper with kisses once again hanging loose. “I’ll see you later,” I say, winking and turning to pick up my tool belt.

She follows me to the door, pausing at the threshold while she watches me walk to my truck. “I’m not going to ask you. It could never work between us, Ethan,” she calls out to my retreating back. “You may as well quit wasting your time and move on to the next woman.”

Her words carry the palpable weight of her regret, as if she’s grappling with her own emotions and trying to persuade herself as much as she’s trying to convince me.

As I glance back at her, a hint of sadness touches my smile. I just want her to let me help. I wish she’d get it—that it would be my greatest joy to ease some of her burdens.

“I fixed the secret door in the master bedroom. It has a handle on the inside and a door wedge to prop it open,” I tell her, ignoring her last protest.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, her expression etched with desolation.

It’s agonizing, getting in my truck and driving away when my heart is demanding I run back and scoop her into my arms. But I can’t force her into this. I have to let her meet me in the middle, or at least some of the way. I just pray she’ll do it willingly—and soon. Because If I have to walk around with this feeling churning in my gut for too long, I’m one-hundred-percent certain it’ll break something inside of me that will never be repaired.