𝔼𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟

Chapter 28 : Itemized

Monday morning begins with Ivy’s voice slicing through the quiet of the house, jolting me awake. Her words echo up the stairs, unmistakable in their anger.

I throw on some clothes, brush my teeth hastily, and bolt out of my room, nearly tripping in my rush. But I stop short at the top of the stairs, frozen by the sight below.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Ivy’s voice is sharp and fierce, directed at Michael, who stands alone in the middle of the entryway, shoulders hunched, his face weary.

“Ivy, I am begging you, please,” he says, his tone desperate.

“Don’t you get it?” she snaps, her voice trembling slightly. “I. Don’t. Want. You. Here.”

For a moment, I consider slipping back to my room to avoid the storm. But Michael’s gaze flickers up, catching sight of me, and Ivy follows his line of sight. Relief flashes in her eyes when she sees me.

A few weeks ago, it would have been me standing in Michael’s shoes, watching Ivy turn away, all my efforts falling flat. But now, somehow, she looks to me for support. So, I walk down the stairs, hoping I look steadier than I feel.

“Good morning, Michael.” I extend my hand, trying to keep things civil, though Ivy’s glare makes me painfully aware of the tension.

“And good morning, you,” I add with a gentle smile to Ivy. Her eyes soften just a bit.

Michael clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Ivy and I have a session today. I thought she knew.”

I open my mouth, ready to explain we weren’t informed, but Ivy beats me to it.

“And I thought you heard me the first time when I said I wasn’t going through with it!” Her voice is low and controlled, the way someone fights to keep from boiling over.

“Okay, let’s all just calm down,” I say, though the words feel hollow.

Tyler should be here. He’d know what to do, how to manage this mess. But Tyler isn’t here, and I’ve been telling Ivy to count on me—to trust me when things get rough. And here it is: the very moment I’m tempted to back away from that responsibility.

“I don’t want to calm down, Alex. I want him gone,” Ivy’s voice wavers, and Michael’s pleading gaze turns to me.

I take a slow breath. “We’re already late to pick up Mason from the hospital, Ivy. We need to go.” I meet her eyes, silently pleading.

After a tense beat, she nods stiffly. I turn to Michael. “Maybe you could come with us to the hospital? We can talk about the sessions while we wait for Mason’s paperwork to be completed.”

Michael nods, looking relieved. But Ivy, jaw clenched, pulls me aside, nearly dragging me by the sleeve.

“What the hell, Alex? I don’t want him there!” she hisses.

I rub my face, already weary. “Ivy, I know. But it isn’t my place to kick him out. Tyler’s not here, and I have no idea what else to do. This was the best compromise I could think of.”

She glares at me, the fire still simmering in her eyes. Finally, she mutters, “Fine.”

As Ivy storms off to get ready, Michael and I stand in the entryway, surrounded by an uneasy silence. He looks down, fumbling for words.

“I’m sorry for all this,” he says finally, his voice heavy. “I’m not trying to make trouble. I just… want to reconnect with my daughter.”

I shake my head, unable to hide my frustration. “Your daughter doesn’t want the same thing, Michael. Why can’t you just accept that?”

He sighs, his hands clenching as he looks for the right words. “Because if I leave now, I’m no different from the man who walked out on her as a baby. I’m not that man anymore. A father doesn’t abandon his child.”

“That’s bullshit,” I mutter, no humor in my tone. “You’re here to clear your conscience. If you really cared, you’d respect her wishes.”

Michael’s gaze sharpens. “And what about you?” he asks, almost daring me. “Would you walk away if she told you to?”

The question stings, and for a moment, I can’t reply. I’ve lost Ivy before, and she’s come back to me. Selfishly, I hold on to the hope that she always will. But here I am, telling her father to let her go. It feels hypocritical.

Instead of answering, I pull out my phone, dialing Dexter to arrange Mason’s discharge and the payment logistics. When the call ends, Ivy is already descending the stairs, looking ready to leave.

The drive to the hospital is a silent one. Michael sits in the back, Ivy in the passenger seat, arms crossed and staring out the window. I wish, for just a moment, that the silence could stretch on. But as we reach the hospital, I know it’s just the calm before another storm.

---

Inside, we’re greeted by a cheerful receptionist who lets us know the nurse is bringing Mason soon. Ivy immediately requests an itemized bill, her tone clipped, her jaw set. She reads the paper over with a frown, her fingers tapping irritably against the counter.

“We can’t pay this,” she mutters, voice tense as she slams the paper onto the desk.

Michael steps forward, his tone gentle. “I can pay for Mason, Ivy. I’d like to help.”

“No.” Ivy’s voice is cold, her eyes narrowing as she snatches her hand away from mine. Michael sighs, but doesn’t argue, and she turns her back on both of us, fuming.

Then my phone vibrates; it’s Tyler. He lets me know Rosa has agreed to cover the bill—but it’ll take a few days. I start to tell Ivy the good news, but I see her yelling at the receptionist, her voice rising.

“Hey, Ty, I’ll call you back,” I mumble, hanging up mid-sentence.

“Ivy, stop.” I try to calm her, but she’s too far gone, eyes blazing at Michael, her hands clenched.

“I’m tired of your help,” she snaps at him. “You did this so I’d owe you. Not happening.”

Michael looks at me, exasperated. “I only wanted to help. Forgive me, Ivy.”

Just then, Mason arrives, pushed by a nurse. Ivy’s anger evaporates as soon as she sees him, and she rushes forward, wrapping her arms around him. His surprise melts into a smile as she holds him close.

Watching Ivy reconnect with Mason is both heartwarming and heartbreaking. She’s learning to trust again, bit by bit. I can see how much this means to her—and to him. When Ivy lets go, Mason’s face glows, his gratitude clear.

Lara, who’s been standing by, takes Mason’s chart, oblivious to the tension lingering in the room. “Mason is cleared to go home. He just needs a bit more rest.”

Mason swallows, then glances at Michael, who smiles softly and extends his hand. Mason hesitates, but Ivy introduces him with a tight-lipped, “Mace, this is my father, Michael.”

After a strained handshake, I step in, eager to break the awkwardness. “Alright, let’s head home. Ivy, could you grab Mason’s bag?”

As we file out to the car, Ivy insists she can handle Mason without Michael's help, her irritation boiling over. But the back-and-forth has finally gotten to me.

“Enough!” My voice is sharp, cutting through the bickering. Ivy, Mason, and Michael all look at me, startled.

“We’re going to go home now so Michael can get his cat. Ivy, let’s get Mason in, and no more arguing over nonsense.” I take control of Mason’s wheelchair, pushing them all toward the car.

Finally, we’re on our way home, silence settling over us like a thick blanket. I can only hope that the quiet might bring some peace with it—or at the very least, a moment of rest.