The last statement is a trail of breadcrumbs, leading her to the joke she shouldn’t have missed. The Ivy I used to know would have given me hell for turning the extra room into an office instead of a workout room, or a TV room or, you know, anything else at all.

  “Desks never were your thing, were they?” Ivy smiles weakly. “You always did your best work on the move.”

  It’s not exactly the ball-busting zinger I was expecting, but it’s something at least.

  “I won’t be around the house much. I work twenty-four-hour shifts every couple days and am helping a coworker and his family out. He was injured at work, and it was pretty bad…” And if I’d been doing my job better, he wouldn’t have been injured at all. “If you’re worried we’ll be in each other’s faces all the time, don’t. I’ll make myself scarce.”

  Ivy nods. “I’ll start looking for a job right away so I can get an apartment as soon as possible. I promise you won’t have to share your space for long.”

  If things had gone a different way, sharing my space with Ivy and our daughter would be the most natural thing in the world. What a clusterfuck.

  “There’s no rush on the apartment. Really. Having you with me will give me a chance to get to know Nell better.” I suck in my lips. It feels strange to say her name. “I’d like to be part of her life.”

  Ivy nods again. “Of course. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk about. How do you want to move forward with her?”

  “How do I…? What’s that even mean, Ivy? Move forward?” She’s so formal. So detached. It’s like her volume’s been turned down. Her color washed out. Like someone put her in the dryer on the wrong setting and she shrank.

  “I mean, well, what does being part of her life mean to you? Do you want to tell her you’re her father? When? How? What does this, us, the three of us coming together, how do you think that should work, Micah?” Ivy’s shoulders sag, like she’s carrying the whole damn world up there and can’t hold on much longer.

  A trio of men at a table nearby burst out laughing and one of them jerks out of his chair, swiping at a mess of beer in his lap. I watch the commotion while her question rattles about in my head.

  How does this work?

  How do I, Micah Hutton, tell a little girl he just met that I’m her father? Just drop the news like that guy’s beer and hope it lands better than his did?

  And in what fucking world would Ivy Cole ask me something this important and not have an opinion on the matter? The girl I remember would have told me exactly how it should work, and damn it, she’d be right on the money. Who is this meek person sitting across from me, wide-eyed and terrified?

  “I don’t know, Ivy.” I sit back. “How do you think this should work? I haven’t had a lot of time to think about this and the sad truth is that I don’t know my daughter. I’m her dad, but the only one she’s ever known lives across the country.” I try not to sneer at the thought of Ivy’s fiancé, ex or not. I don’t know the guy, and I shouldn’t judge him, but I don’t like him on principle. “I want to be part of Nell’s life, but only in a way that’s good for her and I’m gonna need your help understanding where that line is.”

  “Julian isn’t good for her. He wasn’t good for me.” Ivy flares her hands and looks away, swallowing a flare of anger like a fire eater swallowing a flame. “The whole reason I’m back in the Keys is to get away from him. To get her away from him.” She holds out her palms then places them on the table. “That doesn’t mean anything for this conversation, I just…said it.”

  Her ring’s gone. I hated seeing that thing on her finger but could concede he’d been there when I wasn’t. But now? Hearing that? This Julian better not set foot in Florida or he’ll have one pissed off Hutton to deal with. Or rather, many pissed off Huttons to deal with. My family is huge, and we stick together.

  “As far as what’s good for Nell?” Ivy sighs deeply, relaxing her posture a fraction. “She’s…well she’s a lot like you. Smart. Energetic. Bullheaded.”

  There’s the smile I remember. Go figure I finally see it again because she insulted me.

  “Though,” Ivy continues, “her life has had a lot of upheaval lately and she’s not always her best self because of it.”

  “Are you saying you don’t think we should tell her I’m her father?”

  “No, Micah. No. That’s not at all what I’m saying. I guess I’m trying to introduce her to you. Helping you to know who she is. Nell’s bright and vibrant and makes me smile every day, but she’s struggling right now, with the move, then the fire, which means she’s acting out at school a little and is having trouble sleeping. You deserve to know these things about her so we can make a plan that’s good for all of us.”

  I deserve to have been a part of her life from the beginning. The words are right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them back. Who’s the fire eater now?

  “I don’t want to mess this up with her, Ives. Everything I do right now matters when it comes to her.”

  And with you, I think but don’t say. Everything about us being together again matters.

  “Micah…” Ivy takes my hand and there it is again. The urge to pull her out of her chair and into my arms, to crush her to my chest and obliterate the last seven years with my mouth on hers. “I am so sorry,” she says, oblivious to the war raging inside me. “I hope, someday, you can forgive me.”

  I can barely hear her through my desire to erase the distance between us. Carefully, but firmly, I slide my hand from hers. “I’m sure we’ll figure everything out. We always do.”

  At least, we always did.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ivy

  Micah can’t stand to touch me. He can barely stand to look at me. After so many years of him being my bad guy, this shouldn’t bother me.

  But it does.

  Micah is warm. Kind. Big and bold. He goes after what he wants, and I miss the way it felt when what he wanted was me. I wish he’d leave his hand on mine. I wish he’d look at me without looking away. I wish he’d hear me when I say I so deeply regret the way things turned out.

  We decide that Nell and I will move into his house tomorrow. It’s short notice, but Micah’s off work and since it’s Saturday, Nell won’t be at school. She can help with the move.

  “She might not see it as such a big scary change if she’s part of it, you know? If she’s carrying things to her room and deciding where they go…” Micah’s eyes lock on mine with an intensity I don’t know what to do with. There was a time when I always knew what he was thinking.

  I don’t anymore.

  He seems less angry than he did at the foundation, which is a start, I guess. But the hurt in his eyes, I know that feeling. I’ve lived with it for years. The realization that the person you thought was your world didn’t feel the same about you. I hate knowing I made him feel that way.

  But why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going to have a phone?

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then?” I slide my chair back, unsure if we’re done talking, unsure if he wants me to leave or wants me to stay.

  If there was any doubt as to the damage Julian has done to me, sitting here with Micah brought it all into focus. Before I moved to Seattle, I never worried if he’d get mad if I stood at the wrong time, or apologized the wrong way, I just…existed. I’ve been walking on eggshells since I stepped into The Pact, which has shown me how uncomfortable I am all the time. Checking. Watching. Adjusting. Nothing I do is natural anymore.

  Everything I do is a response to Julian. Everything.

  Never again. I will never let someone dictate my life again.

  “Tomorrow it is.” Micah nods, sliding his chair back until a thought strikes him. “Unless you need help packing tonight. I don’t have anything going on. If you need help that is.”

  He frowns, like the thought of spending more time with me is upsetting.

  “You’ve done enough for us already.” I resist the urge to place my hand on his arm. It bothers him when I touch him. For me, as years of resentment have slid away, all I want is to find myself in the last place I remember feeling safe—Micah’s arms. It’s like we’ve switched places.

  Micah and I walk in awkward silence through The Pact, into a fresh September evening. Night has fallen and the moon is big and low, a crescent so bright it’s nearly white. If Nell were here, she’d reach for it, jumping like she could hook her fingers along the edge and zoom off into the sky.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I say as I reach my car. Micah grunts, then gives me a sad smile that doesn’t make sense on his face. His features were built for grinning, for laughing, not for serious discussions like this.

  “Tomorrow it is.”

  A couple weeks ago, he helped me through a panic attack, then kissed me like he never stopped loving me. Tonight, he shifts his weight from foot to foot, then drops his gaze and ambles away.

  Why didn’t I try harder to get a hold of him?

  When I get home, Nell and I pack our clothes into suitcases and load them into my car. We eat dinner with Grandma, and she makes me promise to remember her house is always available if we need it. She hugs me tighter than usual before bed, then again the next morning.

  “You’re not alone, Ivy. Whether or not this thing with Micah works out, I’m always here. In the meantime, I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines. And if you happen to get a picture of you know who in his birthday suit, don’t be too shy to share.” She gives me that crooked smile of hers and pats my cheeks, hugging Nell hard before we make the drive to Micah’s—a yellow three-bedroom home on the water. I park in front of a two-car garage and kill the engine.

  Nell unbuckles her seatbelt, then freezes when she notices I’m not moving. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

  “Nothing. I’m great. This is good. Real good. Everything’s…good.”

  “Then why aren’t you getting out of the car?”

  Because I’m equal parts excited and scared to death. Because this feels like a terrible idea wrapped in a great idea and I have no clue how this is going to work. Because I don’t know how to tell you that Micah is your dad and I want to stop making stupid decisions and—

  “I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

  “Because he looks at you funny too?”

  I laugh because in a way, she’s right. I’m afraid Micah will never look like my Micah again.

  As if on cue, he appears at the front door, raising a hand to shield his eyes in the sun. A black T-shirt stretches across meaty biceps and broad shoulders. A pair of cargo shorts are belted at a trim waist and his calves flex as he jogs down the steps.

  “His muscles are big,” Nell says appreciatively. I’d bet money her mind is dressing him in Lycra, adding a cape, and hoping he’ll fly through the air at any minute, like any good superhero would.

  “He’s a firefighter.” My mind flashes to the charity calendar and Micah’s bare, sweaty, sexy torso and I shake the images away, unbuckling my seatbelt and throwing open the door. “Come on, Nell Bell. Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Micah meets us at the hood, smiling, friendly. The brooding, angry man from yesterday is nowhere to be found. “Where’s the truck?” He squints at the road behind me.

  “What truck?” I ask, following his gaze over my shoulder.

  “The moving truck.” His brow arches like the question should have been obvious.

  And, in any other situation, it would have been.

  “We didn’t need one.” I pop the trunk under Micah’s scowling gaze and present two suitcases and Nell’s book bag with a flourish. “A moving truck seemed like overkill. We’ve got this and the cot I was sleeping on at Grandma’s, since you said my room is currently an office.”

  His dark eyes dart to mine, brows drawing together. “That’s it? Two bags and a cot? That’s all you have?”

  He seems angry, though I don’t know why. Hands on hips. Jaws clenched. Sharp exhalation flaring his nostrils. My nerves fly off the handle. If Julian ever looked at me like that, I was in for a tirade, him staring coldly as he listed all the ways I’d let him down again.

  But this isn’t Julian. It’s Micah. And things might be weird between us, but they will never be what I had in Seattle. I won’t let it get that bad again.

  “We didn’t bring much with us when we left for the Keys and the fire devoured a lot of Nell’s toys.” I shade my eyes to meet his gaze, ignoring the urge to apologize. I am exhausted by the woman I’ve become. Of feeling like every move I make is an inconvenience. I will not apologize for nonsense anymore.

  “This is all we’ve got,” I finish, hefting a bag with a smile.

  After a tense second, Micah shakes away his angry expression, turning his attention to Nell. “It sounds like you were very brave the night of the fire.”

  She squints as she looks up at him. “I basically ran screaming out of my room. The man who rescued Grandma? He was brave. He just ran in there, swooped her up, and carried her out. Mom telled me you’re a firefighter. Did you ever rescued someone before?”

  Micah’s eyes cut my way and he flares his hands, looking unsure if he should tell Nell he’s the man who saved Grandma. I refuse to let him miss this chance to earn cool points with his daughter.

  “This is the man who rescued Grandma.”

  I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help putting a hand on his arm. The jolt of familiarity is like a weighted blanket for my soul. This is Micah…not the man who abandoned me, but the boy I swore I’d always love. He pats my hand and steps away, putting distance between us and me in my place.

  Nell’s eyes go wide. “That was you? You’re the guy who carried Grandma outta the fire?”

  I can see it in her eyes. In her mind, Micah’s fully outfitted in a costume, and she’s found a new superhero to idolize. My imagination happily jumps on the suggestion and does the same, painting him in a skintight outfit that hugs his muscular chest and shoulders, carving out the ridges of his abs and cupping his goods. The image is breathtaking. Grandma would be proud.

  “I was just doing my job.” Micah folds his arms over his chest, which only makes his pecs look bigger. “There were two other firefighters who stayed in your room and fought the fire plus the EMTs who gave you oxygen and made sure you weren’t hurt. They’re all pretty special too. Way more than me.”

  Nell’s not having it. “Yeah, but you carried her out in your arms, then went right back inside, just like a movie! I even drew pictures of it and everyone in my class said you’re a hero, even Giuseppe DiSanto and he thinks he’s cooler than anyone, no matter what.”

  Micah shoots me a smile as he reaches into the trunk and swings our bags onto his shoulder, Nell’s energy brightening his mood the way it does mine. She chatters happily with him as he leads us up the steps and into the house. The first floor is an open space, with a cook’s kitchen, a man’s entertainment system, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.

  “Woah…” Nell runs to the windows, pressing both hands and her whole face to the glass.

  I whisper an apology to Micah, but he waves it away as his smile grows. “She’s pretty awesome,” he whispers in return.

  “There’s a big deck thing out there! And a pool!” Nell turns, hopping and skipping in excitement. “I can’t wait to see my room.”

  Micah grimaces. “Now see, the room might be more of a letdown. I thought you’d have more…” He runs a hand through his hair. “More girly stuff to decorate with.”

  Well, hell. I probably should have warned him that “girly” is synonymous with “stupid” when it comes to Nell.

  She gives him a scathing look. “What, like pink and rainbows and unicorns?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Sensing danger, Micah turns to me for help. “Or, you know, whatever you like.”

  “Nell’s more about the superheroes and less about the ballerinas,” I say while Micah bobs his head, as serious as if he’s taking notes for the biggest test of his life.

  “I’m all about the action.” Nell peers up a staircase. “Is my bedroom up there?”

  “My room’s down here on the first floor,” he points to a door off the kitchen, “but your room’s up—” Nell dashes off while he finishes his sentence. “—stairs.” He turns to me. “She gets cooler the more I know her,” he says, before chasing after her, his feet thundering up the stairs while I’m left wondering what I got myself into.

  Nell’s room is a barely decorated guest room with a gorgeous view of the ocean. The walls are bare and the comforter’s white. There’s a dresser and a nightstand and that’s it. It’s miles better than where she’s been sleeping the last week, but nowhere near what she’s used to back in Seattle. As I enter the room behind Micah, I brace for her special brand of honesty.

  We find her happily plopped on a queen-sized bed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s like laying on a bed of clouds,” she says with a sigh.

  “Yeah, but there’s nothing in here that says ‘Nell.’” Micah drops her bag onto the floor and crosses his arms, studying the bare walls like it’s the first time he’s seen them.

  “What if you color some pictures?” I ask. “We can put them on the wall and then boom. Problem solved. It’ll be a Nell explosion.”

  “Do the pictures hafta be pink?” Julian hated Nell’s love of bold colors and forced her into pastels, things he considered appropriate for a little girl.

  “They can be whatever you want.” I fight the urge to double-check with Micah. It’s not up to him.

  Nell’s grin grows and she leaps to her feet, punching her fists to the ceiling with an exuberant, “Yes!”

  Micah turns to me, grinning from ear to ear, obviously falling in love with his daughter. “I might have a better idea,” he says. “What if, and I’m just putting this out there, but what if we went shopping and you could pick out anything you wanted for your room? Toys. Stuff to hang on the wall. Clothes. Obviously, nothing pink or covered in something stupid like bows.” While Nell giggles, he glances at me, actually checking if I’m okay with the idea, but continues before I can get a word in edgewise. “We could even get some ice cream when we’re done.”