Where the Ivy Hides by Kimber S. Dawn Page A

mistake my mild interest in how this will all unfold for acceptance. Need I remind you, precisely whom the parent is here?"
    Fuck the initial power exchange.
    I snap.
    "Yes, as a matter of fact, you should remind me whom the parent is, because from where I'm sitting, I don't see a single one." My swollen eyes clash with his. "Nope. Not one."
    His smirk is easily the most intimidating I've ever seen, and his words...they’d cause me to shiver if I were less of a woman.
    "There’s that fire. There's my angel." When I see my father for the first time, he's kneeling at my bedside, smiling back towards where my mother stands with her hands covering her mouth agape.
    "See, mouse, if she has an ounce of you in her, all she needs is a few threats, poke the bear, and she'll come around." He looks back at me. "Good morning, Angel. Please tell your mother the same so she'll stop acting like a nervous nelly. It'll make both our days substantially better, I assure you."
    Without thought, I look from my father to my mother and the words fall out of my mouth, "Who is Dolores...Chai-whatever he said?"
    Tears well in my mother's big brown eyes and a twinge of regret tugs at the last heart string I have.
    "She's dead," she blurts out just before her wide eyes shoot behind her, then she steps the rest of the way into the hospital room and quietly closes the door. "She's...no longer with us. She passed after you were kidnapped. She can't hurt you, sweet pea."
    Kidnapped?
    "Kidnapped? No... you were sick." I move my pointed fingers from her to my father. "He was supposed to get you better." I point to my chest and mock, "I went to fucking Disney World. And it rained the whole damn day. I wasn't kidnapped. I was gotten rid of. Keep the facts straight."
    My finger presses the nurse call button, I mostly do it out of spite. That, and I'm trying to compensate for those initial power exchange points I lost by snapping before thinking.
    My father abruptly stands when the door swings open and a nurse waddles in, "Sweetie, you buzzed?"
    "I'm hurting," I lie.
    If I can just get a little something, I'd be able to numb these increasingly overwhelming emotions. I'd take anything right now. Anything with codeine would be a God send. Anything.
    "I'd like to review the medication her doctor has ordered for her, she's a recovering addict, or she is now, and-" I'm going to fucking kill him!
    "Mr. Payne, your doctor’s privileges do not apply here, and she's over the age of consent." She turns to me, "Ivy, love, what's your pain level, zero being no pain and ten being the worst pain?"
    That one word catapults me into the darkest world of pain ever witnessed. 'Love'. 'Ivy, love'.
    Ryker.
    Shit, I forgot about Ryker.
    How? I'll never know, but damn, did I enjoy the reprieve.
    Ryker's probably already here.
    He's probably tearing the waiting room apart and threatening the ER staff.
    "Ryker?" I ask the nurse.
    "I'm sorry, hon?" The concern on her face is evident.
    My father steps towards the foot of my bed and I feel his large hand squeeze my foot. "Pain level, Ivy. Don't round up."
    "Four." I tell her the truth.
    I'm not sure why, but I keep finding myself compelled to tell the truth and be good around this man. It's odd. As fuck. And I don't like it.
    But I'm even compelled to at least give it a try.
    So I do.
    I pause.
    I breathe.
    I trudge forward.
    Without Ryker by my side.
    And goddamn it, it hurts.

    Fuck rehab. Rehab sucks.
    It sucked the first time and it sucked harder the second time. Rehab...physical rehab, in rehab-rehab...a hundred times worse. A hundred.
    In the first few days, when your leg and collar bone are broken, they pry the good shit out of you when you're high—on the good shit. Then as soon as they get enough good shit, they quit giving you the good shit…and that's called being shit out of luck.
    When my leg swells, I get Motrin.
    When my shoulder aches, I get Tylenol.
    Like I said, fuck Rehab.
    Throughout the family counseling sessions