Tye’s face scrunched up, he looked down at the seat of the bench and his hands balled into fists.
“Yes, it’s just as horrifyingly creepy as it sounds.” I nodded, not wanting to say it in detail out loud again.
“Having you was a way to get close to her?”
“In his mind,” I winced, hating that he had said the words. I breathed deeply, pushing on and feeling determined to get out the information as quickly as possible. “Rosie died of drinking too much. Alcohol poisoning.” He looked up again, surprise settling in his cocoa eyes. “They said, she couldn’t vomit properly. She couldn’t…” I struggled to gesture the action. “She couldn’t get rid of the alcohol.”
He leaned forward, resting his face in his hands in realisation.
“Isabella,” he said eventually, breaking the silence.
“I knew she had to be sick because I had seen it before,” I nodded, almost formally. “After Rosie, I went to first aid classes and actually learned about it. What signs to look for, what to do to help. You have to make them be sick.”
“You stopped her from getting her stomach pumped.” He looked up from his hands, but they were clouded over, looking away and not at me.
“I’m sorry I said what I said,” I kept my focus on the cathedral, feeling that lump back in my throat. “Isabella wasn’t the only one in my head. Rosie was there too, but I couldn’t do anything for her. I can’t pull her out of that grave and make her live again. Yet there was Isabella drinking for what is really an absolutely ridiculous reason!” I realised it was course and harsh to say, I winced at the words, refusing to look at him. “I’m sorry, but I just wanted to stop it. To get rid of that reason, to…” I felt my breath hitch as tears pooled in my eyes.
“I know,” he slid along the bench. Suddenly his arms were around me, I was cradled into his side. We could have been back on the bench in Exmouth with his hand in my hair, only this time I was crying.
“I’m getting snot on your t-shirt.” I tried to wipe my eyes clean and back away, but he just pulled me towards him again.
“I don’t care.” He buried his hand in my hair. “Ivy, I’m so sorry. You should know, Isabella adores you.”
“She does?” I was struggling to control my breathing through my tears.
“Yep. I can see why. You may well have saved her life.” He buried his hand in my hair, holding me close to his side. “She’s also promised never to speak to me again if I don’t apologise to you. So, I’m sorry for kicking you out of the house. I’m sorry for being angry in the first place – I was just… well, it was shock. I’m sorry for being an idiot.”
“You don’t need to apologise,” I shook my head against his t-shirt. “I’m the one who spoke out of turn.”
“Well, maybe Savannah was right.”
“Savannah?”
“She pointed out that what you said had to be said at some point.” He scoffed slightly. “Why is that girl always right?”
“What did your dad say?” I kept my eyes down, focusing on the hem of his grey t-shirt.
“He was angry. I said nothing, as usual.” He shook his head; I could feel the movement. “Then we got to the hospital to see Isabella. She was awake, we told her what happened. Her first word was ‘good.’ Should have seen my dad then. She practically climbed out of the bed and yelled at my dad that she didn’t want to go into the business and that she shouldn’t be feeling so guilty about not wanting to either. She should never have been in the position she was in. The nurse staff were not very happy she had got herself into such a state. Said we were exciting her too much. Dad turned to me, expecting me to be on his side and I sided with Isabella. He’s not particularly happy.”
“Still?”
“Not really. That’s when my mum stepped in. She’s actually asked my dad to see someone.” He pulled me closer to him, suddenly dropping his arms around my waist and holding me to him. “She thinks his need to hold onto family has festered long enough. Become something toxic.”
“Festering. Sounds familiar.” The idea that grief festering lingered. It did for me. My parents. Kyle. Tye’s dad too it seemed.
Tye lifted one of his hands and picked my fingers off his t-shirt, looking down at the scarred skin on the back of my hand.
“You draw ladybugs to think of Rosie?”
“I do.”
“Right, in which case, I have an idea.” He stood up suddenly, leaving me bereft and longing for him to come back into the hug. At my sad look of wondering where he had gone, he bent down to me with a smile. He set a kiss on my lips. It was gentle. Soft and brief yet reassuring. It was desperately what I had wanted. “I’m not going anywhere. Come on.”
He pulled me to my feet and passed me the crutches, urging me to follow him back down into the city centre.
“Where are we going?” I asked again after twenty minutes of hobbling.
“Trust me.” He suddenly stopped and opened a door of a shop. We were too close to the wall for me to see what the sign read so I went in, struggling on my crutches through the door.
As we stepped in it became obvious where we were – a myriad of tattoo drawings covered the wall. I looked up in awe of the sketches, just as someone walked over to the small podium in front of us.
“You’re back!” The older man said, covered head to toe in tattoos. “You want another?” He asked Tye.
“Not yet for
