Ivy // Taylor Swift

Holly

A nurse rushes into Mom's room with wide eyes.

"You have a visitor," she says before glancing over her shoulder to the open doorway. Dad steps into the room, a murderous look in his eyes that he masks with a casual stance.

"Found ya." He winks at the nurse. "Thanks, darlin'. Mind leaving us be for a bit? Haven't seen my wife since being on the road. Just got back into town to hear she's sick."

I start to scoff but cover it with a cough before looking down. Mom's been sick for years. This isn't new information.

The nurse glances at dad, then back to me. "Of course. I'll be right outside the door if you need anything."

I nod. The only reason I'm not losing my shit is that we're already in a hospital room. He won't do anything here. It's the thought of trying to leave him that has me tied in knots. I don't know what we're going to do, and Mom has either been too scared to leave him or completely in denial.

The nurse leaves the room. Dad makes sure the door closes behind her. I feel my anxiety rise being in a closed room with him. My cheek throbs although I resist the urge to reach up and soothe the spot in front of my dad, the memory of him shoving me into the door-jam still fresh in my mind. He saunters to the window. Dread fills my entire body.

Leaning against the wall as he glances out the window, I watch as his hand slips into his front pocket. He pulls out my phone.

"Been going off all day," he mutters. His eyes stay fixed on whatever he sees through the glass outside, never meeting mine. "Someone must want to talk to you awful bad."

I swallow. Mom coughs.

"When did you get back into town?" Mom asks with utter innocence. I'm starting to wonder if all fear of him has been beat out of her. I've never seen him actually hit her, but with the way he refuses assistance, sneers that she's lazy, treats her like garbage...how can she be so casual around him?

"Today. Just in time to cross paths with Holly and hear that you'd been brought in. This'll cost a pretty penny we don't have."

Mom coughs again. "I know. I told her I'd be alright, but the doctor tells me I'm sicker than I thought."

My eyes stay on my phone in my dad's hand, watching as it lights up every few minutes. I can only imagine Jackson going out of his mind that I'm not answering. Does he think I'm ignoring him? Is he worried about me?

"Hmm." Dad pushes off the window and walks to the opposite side of Mom's bed. "What exactly did the doc tell you?"

"I can't remember what it's called. Holly can tell you."

"Chronic Fatigue Syndrome." My eyes remain glued to my phone. From this distance I'm able to see Jackson's contact on the notification screen.

"Isn't that just fancy doctor talk for fucking tired? You don't even work, haven't for years. What the hell do you have to be tired for?"

"It's an autoimmune disease. Her immune system is weak, that's why she's always sick with the flu. It's not actually the flu. Her body is fighting like there's a virus because it thinks there is one to fight."

Dad scoffs. "Time to go. You'll be in debt up to your eyeballs if you stay." He reaches down to grab her arm.

"Stop." I lean over my mom's bed but say nothing else. Dad releases Mom's arm and grabs mine instead.

"Let go," I say as calmly as possible. I will the fear out of my voice, somehow.

"Hmm." He releases my wrist, straightening. Eyeing me. "How do you suppose to pay for all this if she doesn't leave now?"

My mouth drops open. I don't have an answer for him. "The hospital social worker is coming to talk to me about that soon."

His gaze narrows. "That won't do no good. The government ain't gonna help. Just put a lean on the house. Take what little we have."

I swallow, looking down at mom. I actually had that same thought, figuring we'd have to go into major debt to help her. It's the last thing I want to do, but what choice do we have.

"She's sick," is my weak reply. Not that her illness will sway him to sudden sympathy.

"Either way, she's gonna be sick. Home on the couch doing jack shit all day or lying in this bed being waited on hand and foot."

I can't help the incredulous look I shoot him. "Are you serious? This isn't a vacation." I point to the I.V. and tubes all around her, the oxygen in her nose, the heart monitor. "She's weak, anemic," I press my hands into the mattress and lean across her bed. "It's only gotten worse without proper treatment."

The door swings open and Jackson walks in. Every cell in my body relaxes while at the same time my brain makes the connection that Jackson and my dad are in the same space.

"Oh my god, Holly. Is everything okay?" He rushes across the room, past my dad, and wraps me in his arms. "I've been trying to call you all day."

My eyes shoot to my dad. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that."

"You're shaking." Jackson rubs my back. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you."

"It's okay." I stop myself from saying he's here now because my dad is in the room, like an ominous presence. All I want now is for one of them to leave, preferably the man who's currently glaring at me.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Dad's question sounds more like a threat.

Jackson releases me from the hug but keeps one arm around my shoulder as we turn to face Dad.

"You remember Jackson, Daddy. He lived here when he was little. Butch's son."

Dad's expression doesn't change. He still looks suspicious, or threatened, or both.

"Hmmm. Yeah, I remember a little kid covered in mud. Always dragging you off to no good."

Jackson remains stiff at my side. "It's Judge, right? I've been back in town for a couple months now." The underlying question is clear. Where the hell has he been for two months?

My dad doesn't bother confirming his name. "Long hauls take time."

"You must love the change of scenery. I couldn't do it, leave home for that long. Leave family behind."

My heart rate must be nearing dangerous levels. This conversation is laced with accusation. I don't think I can take another minute of it.

"We should give Mom some privacy so she can rest." It's the only excuse I can think of, even though I don't want to leave her here alone.

"I was just getting ready to leave," Dad says. "Walk me out, Holly. I'd like a word."

I swallow, glance at Jackson and nod. I won't leave the hallway or follow him to the elevator. I won't go far with him. Jackson squeezes my hand, asking the silent question if he should come with me. I squeeze back, answering him that I'm fine.

I'm not. Not even a little bit. But I don't want to give Dad cause to react. I release Jackson's hand and follow dad, sensing as my boyfriend's eyes follow me out. I know he's walking to the door to stand closer. I know he'd burst through to save me if anything happens. It's the only thing keeping me calm. Jackson has my back and he's not even sure what's wrong.

I haven't said the words, but I know he knows. You don't have a connection as deep as the two of us have and not realize the darkness the other person exists in. He knows without me ever saying a word.

I lift my hand to my cheek automatically when alone with my dad. He's waiting for me, watching as I touch the most recent evidence of his anger. There's a spark in his eyes. Not even an ounce of remorse. He knows it's how he keeps me in line. Intimidation.

I stand tall to face him. "What is it."

"I might have a way to take care of this bill."

I'm stunned silent. This isn't what I expected.

"But I'll need your help."

My stomach bottoms out. "Oh. What kind of help."

"Not so fast. I'll let you know when I've decided if I'm willing to do it."

I bite my tongue. Cussing him out and calling him a shitty husband wouldn't do me any good right now. It's probably not even legal, but that's also not something I should mention.

"I think the sooner the better," I say, not wanting to let on how sketchy I figure his scheme for money probably is.

Dad leans closer. "Watch yourself with Butch's boy. He's probably not what he seems." With that he slides my phone into my hands, something I didn't expect and don't fully trust. What's his game now?

As he turns to leave, I finally take a deep breath while slipping my phone into my back pocket. I give myself a pat on the back for remaining unaffected by his negative insinuations, whatever they might be. I don't want to know.

Instead, I get myself back in the room, opening the door to find Jackson standing right next to it as I expected. His arms immediately wrap me up.

"I didn't like that," he whispers in my ear.

I shrug. Par for the course with my dad. The last two months have been a dream life, not reality. I have a terrible feeling that reality has come crashing back to town.

"Mom should be released soon." I don't mention the potential debt from this visit. I don't tell him how stressed I am about her care. There's not cure for this, no real treatment. Just diet and supplements that we can try to help the battles her body is fighting daily. I don't say a word about my fight with him this morning. I know how Jackson would react. I can't handle another person I love being hospitalized. He would absolutely go after my dad. My dad would absolutely fight back, and he'd fight dirty. Jackson wouldn't come out of it unscathed.

"You look exhausted." He brushes a strand of hair out of my face as he ushers me back to my mom's bedside.

"So do you." I look at him, just now noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the pale tone of his skin. Then I remember what he told me last night about stopping at his moms.

"Oh my gosh. What happened?" I grab for his hand.

Jackson takes a breath before smiling. "Nothing that needs talking about now. Let's focus on getting your mom's strength back so she can get out of here." He reaches up, cupping my cheek.

And I wince at the contact.

Jackson tilts his head, confusion filling his eyes as he looks me over. He steps closer to me as I hold my breath and pray that he doesn't notice. I've covered it all with make up. But maybe I rubbed some of it off.

When his gaze narrows on my face, aimed right at the spot in question, his thumb grazing the spot gently, I know he's figured it out. He looks up into my eyes. I could play it off, say something about being a klutz, but I know he'd see right through the flimsy lie. A murderous expression covers his face —the same one in my dads eyes when he barged into the room earlier—when realization dawns.

"Don't." I plead, holding onto his arm, needing to keep him by my side. "Stay with me."

Everything in Jackson softens. Warmth returns to his eyes. He looks down at my mom then back at me before nodding.

"I'll stay."

Shaken, I sit back down at Mom's bedside, fully aware that I've only bought time. Jackson won't forget what he just saw. I pray that my dad leaves town again before Jackson can do anything about it.

So that happened. If you saw my post on my page this morning, you already know the dilemma I've been in writing this chapter. I *think* I've worked out what the something big is going to be...but knowing me it will change by the time I write it.

Final teaser, Jackson's POV next week should be juicy! And full of tea.

Anti-hero should actually be the song for this one (It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me) because the perspective is so right for this one, but Ivy has the vibe and a better tie to her feelings for Jackson.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

THIS ONE HAS BEEN SO MUCH HARDER THAN EXPECTED...just saying