Ким Карр - Mended

“Not yet. Turn around, Ivy. Look at me.”

He sits down on the bed and pulls my legs off the floor and lifts me back on his lap. “Okay, now we’re going to do this again. You start by saying ‘I love you.’ But this time when you say it, keep looking at me and don’t turn away as soon as the words come out.”

“Xander, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I did.”

“Look at me, Ivy,” he commands, and I do. “You know why you said it—it’s because you feel the same way I do. Look, we could play the game—pretend we both didn’t feel what we felt the minute we saw each other at the pool, but I’d rather not. I loved you when I was fourteen. I loved you when I was eighteen and had to let you go. I’ve loved you for the last twelve years. And I love you now. Ivy—I love you.”

Hearing those words from his lips seems surreal. My stomach flutters and I throw my arms around his neck. “I love you, Xander. I love you,” I tell him, holding him and wanting to never let him go.

He holds me close and I don’t even question his words, not for a second. I don’t need to. I can feel it. I can hear it. I can see it. It’s written all over him—it’s even etched on his body. It’s real and right. It’s everything I’ve been missing and everything I want. He’s mine, and this time I’ll never let him go. We were always so much alike. We covered up our feelings, pushed them aside, wore a strong armor to face the world, but with each other we were bared—no shields, no masks—just what was real and what was true. And the emotions I’m feeling between us right now tell me that hasn’t changed—they tell me I’m home.

He swats my ass a few minutes later. “Now let me get up and get something to clean us up.”

I lean back and smile at him. He bends down and bites my lip. “Or come with me and we’ll take a shower.”

Tightening my grip, I let my body answer for me.

“Shower it is,” he says as he moves off the bed with my legs wrapped around his waist.

Thirty minutes later we’re lying in bed in the pitch-dark room. I’m spent, sated, and happier than I’ve been in such a long time. Pulling me to him, he hugs me like he used to—arms and legs wrapped around me, squeezing so tight.

“I love you, Ivy Taylor,” he whispers.

“I love you, Xander Wilde,” I whisper back. And then I close my eyes, feeling so full of raw emotion I could burst with happiness.

Xander

Daylight threatens to break at any moment. We’re lying here together, and it seems unreal. I can hear our heartbeats in the silence between us. In all the years we’ve been apart I’ve never found anyone that makes me feel like she does. It’s as if my heart closed off after our breakup and it took her letting me back in to reopen it. Hearing her say those three words to me last night and telling her I felt the same—it was the truest and most honest feeling I’ve ever shared with anyone.

I’m rubbing circles along her back and she’s tracing the lines that are inked down my side. We slept only a few hours, but I feel more rested than I have in weeks. I woke up this morning ready for her, so I put my hands between her legs and did everything to her I’ve wanted to do over the past month.

Now she’s lying on my chest and the sapphire earrings are still in her ears. “My grandmother would be happy that you still wear the earrings she gave you.”

She clutches one and twists it in her ear. “I never take them out. They’re the most special gift I’ve ever received.”

My hand catches the back of her neck and I tilt her head toward mine. Her statement makes me equally as happy and sad.

“I loved her too, you know. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to her funeral.”

“Yes, I miss her, and my grandfather. At least they didn’t have to be apart long. The six months my grandfather was alive without her, he was lost. I moved in with him when his depression took over. Really he just didn’t want to live without her. And at eighty—who could blame him? He had been with her for so long and he just really loved her.”

Silence takes over and we lie here together.

“Tell me something?” she asks, flipping onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

“Anything.”

“How do you see this going?” she asks, motioning between the two of us.

My lips twist into a sad smile as I pull her onto my chest. “We’ll take one day at a time together. Twelve years is a long time and we have a lot to learn about each other. But I’m not planning on spending any more days apart.”

“Do you think relationships can work that way?”

“What way is that?”

“That something once broken, irreparably, like us, can be so easily mended?”

I shift to hover over her, taking her wrists and pinning her arms to her sides. Kissing her neck, I slide my tongue up to her mouth before answering. “I think all relationships are different and each one has its own dynamics. There are no rules to follow. So, yes, I think if we both want this bad enough there’s no reason we can’t have it.”

Her eyes flicker from my eyes to my lips, and I take that as a sign not only that she agrees but also that she wants me to kiss her, which I most happily do.

* * *

We’ve spent the morning naked in bed, ordering room service and just talking. We talked about my brother and his decision to leave the band. I even told her about the difficulty I had accepting his decision. She told me about her years in Chicago and that she hasn’t seen her family in some time. She told me why she stopped singing last year, and I was really proud of her for taking a stand and trying to gain control of her own career. Then she finally told me about her money worries and why she doesn’t want to piss Damon off. We got lost in so many conversations that when I finally pick up my phone to check the time, I bolt straight up. “Shit, it’s almost eleven.”

She pushes up onto her elbows and looks up at me. “I have to go. We’re supposed to meet on the bus in less than an hour,” she says, rushing out of bed and quickly pulling her dress over her head.

I nod and stand to stretch.

She stares at me—her dark eyes gleaming and her mouth twisting into a smile that I can’t resist returning. Then I pull her to me so I can kiss her. She tugs on my lip and presses her body to mine and there it goes. Fuck, I have to get this under control.

“I have to get ready,” she breathes.

“I know.” I’m already pulling her dress back up over her head. “But you can be fifteen minutes late. The bus won’t leave without you. I promise.”

* * *

Ivy’s full of confidence and poise onstage without her trademark guitar. Both of her hands are on the microphone stand and her head is down, waiting for the music. She’s wearing a short one-piece black outfit with lace sleeves. When she slipped it on this morning, I thought we were going to be really late for the show. And when she started out the door with it on I had to stop her.

She smirked at me. “What?” she asked.

“Why are you wearing your pajamas to perform?”

She laughed so hard it took her a few minutes before she could say, “It’s called a romper, and it’s clothes, not sleepwear.”

As her sound fills the open space, the crowd cheers her on. It’s a midday show and the sun beats down on the stage, causing everyone to squint. But even though she’s only five seven, her voice is a powerhouse. She begins to sing a simple ballad. She pats her chest with her palm while singing, “With the beating of your tiny heart.”

Today I notice the band has really come together as a group—from Ivy’s adorable, awkward banter with the audience to Garrett making shadow puppets on the wall while Nix tunes his guitar. Leif seems introverted at times, turning his face and his guitar away from the audience at the deep emotional parts of certain songs, as if getting lost in the music, but it works. They’ve mastered the union of a band in such a short period of time—it’s incredible to watch.

My gaze automatically slides back to Ivy and my body starts to tremble when I think about how everything has changed between us in the last twenty-four hours. The only thing assuring me that it’s all real is her sideways glance at me and that smile she gifts me with before saying to the audience, “I want to come back next year. I love it here. Upstate New York, you rock!” The crowd yells louder and louder, and once again she’s a hit.

We got to New York’s Mountain Jam early enough that we could enjoy the other shows, but we can’t stick around. She exits the stage with Nix, Leif, and Garrett following her. The minute her foot crosses the threshold behind the curtain, she smiles at me and I can’t help myself. I pick her up and swing her around in a circle. Once I’ve set her down, she grasps my cheeks and pulls my face toward hers. My hands drift down her back while I press my lips to hers.

Garrett clears his throat. “Ummm . . . Xander, would you like to tell us what the hell is going on?”

Ivy laughs and we break free of each other. The guys are standing around us with their eyes wide open and their jaws hanging.

“Yeah, Xander, would you like to tell them?” Ivy mocks.

We played it cool on the bus ride over, since we hadn’t discussed telling the guys. And once we got here we went in different directions—I had to take care of a few things and she and Leif had some bands they wanted to watch. Ivy and I discussed Leif last night, and she assured me they’re only friends, so her hanging out with him doesn’t concern me anymore. Garrett and Nix know we used to date in high school, but that’s about all. I was going to tell them we were back together before the show, but there was no time. And when I saw her exiting the stage in all her glory, it made me feel like that eighteen-year-old boy . . . and all I wanted was to have my arms around her.