The answer to that question is complicated, I want to say that I am truly done with Ivy now that I had my fill, and that I can let her go. But I didn't fucking get my fill because I am still lying here, thinking about her, uncomfortably hard, and remembering her silky warmth around my cock. No, I am not done with Ivy and that fucking scares me.
Charlotte, what's happening?
I feel the pressure building in my chest and my eyes begin to burn, have I failed my sister? Have I gone against everything I promised her? Because me fucking Ivy wasn't fucking at all, I was pouring my soul into that and I will never be the same again. I fucking failed my sister.
When it becomes obvious that sleep will be impossible, I get up out of bed and head down to the kitchen. Shay is already up and making coffee, her face looking drawn and tired.
"Neil." She smiles, "I thought I saw your car pull up last night. It's good to have you home."
She's way too good for my piece of shit father.
"Yeah, thought I'd check in on everyone."
"I think we may have to have a chat about your dad." She lets loose a long sigh, "he's getting worse."
"Amelia said as much." I nod. "Maybe we need to look into facilities."
I watch as a tear slips down her cheek and pull her in for a hug. The woman has been a godsend to our family and my father is fucking taking it all for granted.
"We'll get him some help." I tell her.
I'm sitting in a small diner that has waiters and waitresses on rollerblades, this shit is so weird but Amelia swears by the milkshakes.
"Have you spoken to Ivy?" She asks me while looking over her milkshake glass.
"Not really." I shrug.
"What exactly is going on there?" She drops her hands to the table. "How are you feeling?"
"Can we drop the whole Ivy thing and talk about Dad?"
She rolls her eyes and nods, "fine."
"What's happened since Christmas?"
"He's been getting angrier when he drinks and he ends up breaking things." She says quietly. "A few nights ago he told Mom that Charlotte was a problem child and he was getting ready to ship her to boarding school."
"What?" I ask. That's fucking weird.
"Neil, I told you. When Charlotte died there was a lot going on. She was angry a lot and had these random outbursts. She was mean."
I try to comb over my memories of my sister but I can't think of a time she was unnecessarily angry.
"Seriously," Amelia leans forward. "Dad thought there might've been drugs involved."
I can't dispute that because we refused an autopsy on Charlotte, it was obvious how she died, and the thought of her being cut up only hurt us more.
"But why is he talking about Charlotte?"
"I think each time he drinks, he's regressing, and thinking of the times he is most ashamed of." She shakes her head. "He has a lot of regrets about you and Charlotte it seems."
"Dad was a problem teen." I tell her the stories Mom told me. "He partied, sold drugs, and robbed convenience stores. Then he landed in jail and that's when Ember came along. He left Mom as a teen mother to raise me and then knocked her up again with Charlotte just before going to jail. She left him after that."
He does have a lot of shit to make up to his family and I know if he doesn't get the help he needs, that list will just keep getting longer.
"We need to do an intervention." Amelia nods.
"Let's do it after dinner today." I agree.
I see his car pulling into my driveway through the security app on my phone. I fucking forgot to close the gate last night. Fuck, I really wish I remembered that. The closer he comes to my house, the more I feel like I might toss up my fucking dinner.
He parks behind my car and sits in his seat like he's waiting for something, or maybe trying to talk himself out of being here, and I'm hoping he decides to leave. There are things he may want to discuss, about feelings and shit, and I'm not good with that.
His door opens and he steps out of his vehicle tentatively, making my stomach flip. He has on a puffy black winter coat, dark jeans, and a baseball cap backwards on his head. He looks so hot and a little bit dangerous. I feel myself already growing wet just thinking about the things we did on that kitchen table.
He gets to my porch and scratches his fingers in his scruffy goatee, still looking undecided. Eventually, his hand comes out and presses the doorbell. Even though I saw him do it, I still jump from the noise.
"Who is it?" Saxon calls from his room.
"A friend." I yell back and listen until his bedroom door clicks shut again.
I open the door and stare into his golden eyes. He looks sad and tired.
"Hey." His voice is scratchy like he has been screaming all day, but so fucking sexy all the same.
"Hey." I open the door wider inviting him in.
"Sorry for just showing up here." He looks at his feet, then takes off his boots. "I just had nowhere else to go and I needed someone to talk to."
"What's going on?"
"Fuck, that sounded bad." He grabs my chin and pulls me in, his other hand snaking around my waist. "I can't stop thinking about you and I'm here because I wanted to talk to you."
I suck in a gasp from his confession and feel my face heat up. What do I say to that? How the fuck do I do this?
"Oh."
Oh?!
"I know I was a dick last night, I'm just used to
