I had to laugh a little, shaking my head at just how unhinged Ivy appeared to be. So universally different to Elena. Maybe it was why they worked so well together. One was a fiery time-bomb, while the other was level-headed and smart.
It always seemed to be the case with female best friends.
"As for together though, I think one of our wildest stories was that time we both got so damn drunk, and I refused to listen to Elena about not catching a ride to a party out on a farm. It ended up with the car breaking down, and our drunk asses walking through a corn field. Some lovely old couple found us, took us in for the night, and made us breakfast the next morning. When we finished thanking them, they asked us if we wanted to marry their two sons. We politely declined, and then they asked us if we wanted to join them for the orgy session they were headed to so we could meet some nice country folk."
I nearly veered off the road as I shot a look back at Ivy, certain she was lying. Her huge grin was hard to decipher.
"She's not lying. They were a weird couple, thankfully, we were a few towns away from home. Never going back there," Elena confirmed as Ivy laughed maniacally.
"I feel like there were so many ways that story could have gone, but that was one hell of a twist," I stated.
"Yeah, always shocks people. But hey, can't go judging or hating. As long as they don't come forcing their weirdness on me, they can do whatever they want," Ivy said with a shrug. "Each to their own."
"Right." I had no comeback for that, then again, I knew of a lot of weird shit in my world. I just hadn't expected a drunken country story to lurch like that.
Ivy shared a few lesser stories of their teenage antics, but it sounded like Elena had calmed down once she hit her early twenties, unlike Ivy.
And, considering my interest in her, I was grateful for that. I commended any man who tried to make an honest woman out of Ivy.
When we finally reached the hospital after the long drive, the sun was setting in the distant. I pulled up, and the two girls were quick to rush inside. A nurse in blue scrubs met us at the front desk, clipboard in hand. "She's resting now," she explained, voice professionally gentle. "Vitals are good. But earlier... she was inconsolable."
Elena stepped into her mother's room like she was entering sacred ground. Her mother lay still, breathing slow and even, the machines beeping in steady rhythm. But the air felt charged, like we'd just missed a storm.
She stood motionless for a long time, just watching her mother breathe, while Ivy sat down beside her.
I watched from the doorway as Elena wiped at her eyes, trying to hide the tears that had finally broken free. She didn't need to hide them. Not from me. I'd seen worse—been worse—and still carried my team's dog tags as proof.
She didn't need to be strong, not here.
After an hour of watching Elena alternate between sitting vigil and pacing, I made a decision. No one wanted to wake Anna, and she wasn't waking on her own. These two women needed sleep and rest, and more food.
I booked us rooms at the nicest hotel I could find within ten miles of the hospital. Two rooms. One with two beds for the girls, one with a single for me. I made sure they connected through an interior door. Not because I expected trouble, but because I'd learned the hard way that preparation matters.
"Let's eat and call it a night. The nurses can call when she wakes," I said. Elena was hesitant, but Ivy nodded.
"A shower would be nice," Ivy stated, and Elena sighed.
She reluctantly left, asking the nurse to call her when she woke, especially if she was asking for them, or if anything changed. The nurse was sympathetic, but believed Anna would sleep through the night now.
With that, we headed out, and I picked us up some fast food, making sure to take more of my painkillers and antibiotics as directed.
Elena barely spoke when we finally arrived at the hotel. She just kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the bed beside Ivy, still in the clothes she'd worn all day.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her curl into herself like she was trying to disappear into something smaller, something that might hurt less.
"I don't want to lose her," she whispered, voice cracking open on the words.
Ivy pulled her close. "You won't," she said with fierce certainty. "Not tonight."
I closed the connecting door between our rooms, giving them privacy, but I didn't go far. I sat on the edge of my bed, back straight, ears tuned to any sound through the wall. Just in case she needed me.
The dog tags against my chest felt heavier than usual. I pulled them out, running my thumb over the embossed names. My team. The people I couldn't save.
I couldn't save them. I'd lost those I loved most. Seeing someone else enduring it, preparing for the loss, only reminded me of the pain.
Through the wall, I could hear the soft sounds of Elena finally breaking down, her sobs muffled against what I assumed was Ivy's shoulder or a pillow. My hand tightened around the tags until the metal edges bit into my palm.
Sitting there, listening to Elena's muffled crying, I felt the familiar pull of something I'd tried to bury after watching thatdiplomat's family burn—the need to save someone, anyone, from their own personal hell.
