The Long Game
Page 42
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Before I could reply, Ivy had climbed into the front seat of the car and closed the door behind her, taking it for granted that she’d been heard and understood and that her dictate would be obeyed.
I climbed into the backseat and shut the door—a little harder than necessary.
“Georgia called.” Bodie directed those words to Ivy, not me. “She’s holding a press conference at the hospital.”
And just like that, helping Asher was on the back burner. Within an instant, Ivy was dialing and on the phone. “Jason. Put Georgia on. I don’t care if she’s busy. She is not addressing the American public until I can verify that she is in a place, mentally, where she can handle the questions they are going to throw at her.”
Fifteen minutes later, Bodie pulled up to the hospital where the president was being treated. From what I’d gathered based on Ivy’s side of her conversation with the First Lady, this press conference was happening, whether Ivy liked it or not.
“Tessie?” Ivy was already halfway out the door when she remembered I was in the car. “I meant what I said about Asher. You can’t call him, you can’t go over to his house, you can’t e-mail—not until things die down.”
I tried to imagine someone telling Ivy that she had to stay away from a friend at a time like this.
“You need to trust me on this one, Tess. I told you I would take care of this situation—take care of you—but you have to let me.”
“Trust,” I repeated sharply, unable to keep a wealth of emotion from marking that word.
“Fine. You don’t have to trust me,” Ivy corrected, her voice tight. “You just have to listen to me.” She turned around in her seat, pinning me with an intense stare. “This is a high-profile murder investigation. I will do whatever I have to do to protect you, even if I have to protect you from yourself.”
The last time Ivy had decided I needed to be protected from myself, she’d thrown me on a private jet and shipped me off to Boston. The great Ivy Kendrick didn’t mess around, and she didn’t bluff.
“I need your word that you won’t try to get in touch with Asher,” she told me. “And if you won’t give me your word, I need your phone.”
Give me your word or give me your phone. That was an ultimatum.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I snapped back. “You don’t get to make this kind of decision for me.” I meant to stop there. “You don’t get to make any decisions for me, not ever.”
There was a moment of stark silence. Ivy didn’t flinch, didn’t argue, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. “Your word or your phone,” she repeated.
Bodie caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. If there was understanding in his eyes, there was a warning, too.
I was treading on thin ice.
“Fine,” I said tersely, my fingers closing around my phone. “You have my word. I won’t call Asher. I won’t e-mail him. I won’t go see him.”
A second later, Ivy was gone.
As Bodie pulled away from the curb, I gritted my teeth. When I’d given William Keyes my word that I’d let him into my life if he saved Ivy’s, I’d kept it. When I’d told Emilia I owed her a favor, I’d paid it back in full. I kept my promises.
Ivy was the one who broke hers.
“Some people would tell you that you can’t keep punishing her forever,” Bodie said. “But they’d be underestimating your dedication to the cause.”
“I’m not punishing her,” I insisted. I just couldn’t make myself forget. I could never predict when the wound would break back open.
She promised me I could come live with her, and then she left me. She was my mother, and she left—
“If Asher were her friend,” I said, cutting that thought off as wholly as I could, “if she knew a friend was in trouble—Ivy wouldn’t stay away.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Bodie admitted. “Pretty sure I’ve been that friend. But them’s the breaks, kitten. She’s the adult. You’re the kid.” Bodie pulled into a parking space and scanned the growing crowd in front of the hospital.
Georgia’s press conference was starting soon. As angry as I was with Ivy, I couldn’t keep from thinking about the way that Daniela Nicolae had promised that the time for waiting was over. First the bombing, then the president.
And now Ivy was up there at the First Lady’s side.
Forcing myself to stay calm, I made a call and lifted my phone to my ear.
I climbed into the backseat and shut the door—a little harder than necessary.
“Georgia called.” Bodie directed those words to Ivy, not me. “She’s holding a press conference at the hospital.”
And just like that, helping Asher was on the back burner. Within an instant, Ivy was dialing and on the phone. “Jason. Put Georgia on. I don’t care if she’s busy. She is not addressing the American public until I can verify that she is in a place, mentally, where she can handle the questions they are going to throw at her.”
Fifteen minutes later, Bodie pulled up to the hospital where the president was being treated. From what I’d gathered based on Ivy’s side of her conversation with the First Lady, this press conference was happening, whether Ivy liked it or not.
“Tessie?” Ivy was already halfway out the door when she remembered I was in the car. “I meant what I said about Asher. You can’t call him, you can’t go over to his house, you can’t e-mail—not until things die down.”
I tried to imagine someone telling Ivy that she had to stay away from a friend at a time like this.
“You need to trust me on this one, Tess. I told you I would take care of this situation—take care of you—but you have to let me.”
“Trust,” I repeated sharply, unable to keep a wealth of emotion from marking that word.
“Fine. You don’t have to trust me,” Ivy corrected, her voice tight. “You just have to listen to me.” She turned around in her seat, pinning me with an intense stare. “This is a high-profile murder investigation. I will do whatever I have to do to protect you, even if I have to protect you from yourself.”
The last time Ivy had decided I needed to be protected from myself, she’d thrown me on a private jet and shipped me off to Boston. The great Ivy Kendrick didn’t mess around, and she didn’t bluff.
“I need your word that you won’t try to get in touch with Asher,” she told me. “And if you won’t give me your word, I need your phone.”
Give me your word or give me your phone. That was an ultimatum.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I snapped back. “You don’t get to make this kind of decision for me.” I meant to stop there. “You don’t get to make any decisions for me, not ever.”
There was a moment of stark silence. Ivy didn’t flinch, didn’t argue, didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. “Your word or your phone,” she repeated.
Bodie caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. If there was understanding in his eyes, there was a warning, too.
I was treading on thin ice.
“Fine,” I said tersely, my fingers closing around my phone. “You have my word. I won’t call Asher. I won’t e-mail him. I won’t go see him.”
A second later, Ivy was gone.
As Bodie pulled away from the curb, I gritted my teeth. When I’d given William Keyes my word that I’d let him into my life if he saved Ivy’s, I’d kept it. When I’d told Emilia I owed her a favor, I’d paid it back in full. I kept my promises.
Ivy was the one who broke hers.
“Some people would tell you that you can’t keep punishing her forever,” Bodie said. “But they’d be underestimating your dedication to the cause.”
“I’m not punishing her,” I insisted. I just couldn’t make myself forget. I could never predict when the wound would break back open.
She promised me I could come live with her, and then she left me. She was my mother, and she left—
“If Asher were her friend,” I said, cutting that thought off as wholly as I could, “if she knew a friend was in trouble—Ivy wouldn’t stay away.”
“Can’t argue with that logic,” Bodie admitted. “Pretty sure I’ve been that friend. But them’s the breaks, kitten. She’s the adult. You’re the kid.” Bodie pulled into a parking space and scanned the growing crowd in front of the hospital.
Georgia’s press conference was starting soon. As angry as I was with Ivy, I couldn’t keep from thinking about the way that Daniela Nicolae had promised that the time for waiting was over. First the bombing, then the president.
And now Ivy was up there at the First Lady’s side.
Forcing myself to stay calm, I made a call and lifted my phone to my ear.
