Chapter 7 One Month

Chapter 7: One Month 

Ivy 

Time did something strange at that moment. It stretched thin and fragile like glass. I couldn’t tell if seconds were passing or entire minutes dissolving into silence. 

Leo’s question still hung between him and Andy, sharp as a blade suspended mid-fall.

Maddie stood beside Andy, her fingers still curled loosely around his arm, her attention lifted toward him with quiet curiosity, as if waiting to see how he would assert himself. 

Leo faced Andy with easy composure, one brow slightly raised, amusement dancing lazily in his expression like he had all the patience in the world. 

And Andy… Andy’s stare was locked on Leo with an intensity that made the space between them feel like a battleground.

As for me, I wished desperately that the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

My heart beat painfully against my ribs, each pulse loud enough that I was certain everyone could hear it. I couldn’t breathe properly. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think past the dread crawling through my chest.

Please don’t say anything, Andy. Please don’t make this worse. That was all I chanted inside me. 

There was only so much humiliation a person could endure before something inside them cracked beyond repair.

At last, Andy exhaled through his nose and spoke.

“Why would I be mad that someone’s finally interested in Ivy?”

The words struck with the force of a physical blow.

For a fraction of a second, everything inside me went completely still. Then sensation rushed back all at once—heat rising behind my eyes, shame burning under my skin, breath catching painfully in my throat. 

I turned away before I could stop myself, lowering my gaze sharply as if studying the polished wood of the staircase could somehow steady me.

But it didn’t.

The first tear escaped before I could trap it, sliding hot and silent down my cheek. I blinked rapidly, willing the rest to stay where they were. I refused to cry here. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.

“You say it like no one’s supposed to be,” Leo replied lightly, his voice smooth, unhurried. There was a faint drawl to his tone, like he was savoring each word before releasing it. “She’s pretty. And also super hot. I mean… who wouldn’t be interested in her?”

The compliment should have warmed me. Instead, it made my chest ache in a completely different way.

Andy shifted forward a fraction, tension gathering in his shoulders. For a moment, I thought he might respond, might argue, might contradict Leo’s statement outright. But whatever words had risen to his lips remained there, unspoken. He swallowed them down and settled instead for something safer.

“Well, I’m just looking out for her.”

Leo inclined his head slowly, his mouth curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Just like a big brother, I guess?”

Maddie laughed softly beside Andy, a bright, airy sound that cut through the heavy atmosphere. 

Under normal circumstances, I might have joined her. Tonight, the sound scraped against my nerves until irritation flared sharp and sudden in my chest. 

I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep me from snapping at her.

“Leo,” Andy said, voice quieter now but edged with warning, “if you hurt Ivy… if you make her cry… just remember you’ll have me to contend with. I'll find you.”

For a heartbeat, silence returned. Then Leo laughed. Not a polite chuckle. Not restrained amusement. 

He threw his head back and laughed freely, the sound rich and unguarded, rolling through the hallway with a confidence that made it impossible not to feel it. 

The unexpected warmth of it tugged at the corner of my mouth before I could even stop myself. I pressed my lips together quickly, fighting the instinct to smile.

“Careful, Anderson,” Leo said once his laughter subsided, his voice still touched with lingering amusement. “Don’t forget… I throw punches for a living.”

The response landed with effortless precision.

Andy’s jaw tightened, the shift subtle but unmistakable. Something flickered in his eyes—irritation, challenge, something deeper that I couldn’t quite name. 

Before the tension could stretch any further, Leo moved. He stepped up beside me and climbed two stairs, his hand settling lightly but firmly around my waist. 

The contact sent a jolt of awareness through my body, unexpected and grounding all at once.

“Let’s go, Ivana,” he murmured. “I'm dying to know more about you.” 

I didn’t protest and neither did I look back. I didn’t trust myself to do either. Instead, I followed him upstairs, acutely aware of the steady warmth of his hand at my waist and the strange, fragile calm it brought with it. By the time we reached my bedroom door, a faint, traitorous smile had found its way onto my lips.

The moment we stepped inside, Leo released me.

The sudden absence of his touch left the air feeling emptier. He didn’t move closer again. Instead, he leaned casually against the wall beside the door, arms folding loosely across his chest, posture relaxed but watchful.

“You okay?” he asked.

I turned away, moving toward the dresser simply to give my hands something to do. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His response came after a beat. “Believe me, I know what liars look like, Ivana.”

I stilled.

“And,” he continued calmly, “I know what girls who are in love with someone they can’t have look like.”

My throat dried up. 

“And right now? I'm beginning to find out what girls who fantasize about fucking their big brother look like.” 

The words struck deeper than I expected. I inhaled sharply, my hand flying instinctively to my mouth as if I could push the reaction back inside me.

He noticed immediately. 

“Surprised I figured it out so quickly?” His tone remained light, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath it—not cruel, not mocking, simply certain. “You’ve got to give me some credit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

I opened a drawer, then another, though I had no idea what I was searching for. My fingers trembled against the wood. I forced them still by gripping the edge of the dresser.

Why was this so humiliating? Why did his perception feel more exposing than Andy’s careless words downstairs?

“You think I wouldn’t notice you turning away so no one would see you crying?” Leo asked quietly.

My throat tightened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I repeated, softer this time, clutching my wrist to steady myself. “If you have nothing intelligent to say, then just… don’t.”

I couldn’t look at him. I wouldn’t.

“Don’t lie,” he said, almost gently now. “It’s just you and me in here.”

The gentleness made it worse.

I dropped to my knees beside my open suitcase, rifling through clothes that didn’t need rearranging. The movement was frantic, purposeless, but I needed something—anything—to anchor my hands.

“I want to change, Leo,” I muttered. “Leave.”

“No.” The word was calm.

I looked up before I realized I was doing it. “What? You're going to watch me change?” 

He pushed away from the wall and walked toward me. Not quickly. Not aggressively. Just steadily, until he stood directly in front of me. 

From where I knelt, he seemed impossibly tall. I tilted my head back to meet his gaze.

“I’m going to be direct,” he said. “I don’t like games. I don’t see the value in pretending not to notice what’s obvious.”

My pulse quickened.

“So this,” he continued, “is me being clear about my intentions.”

My brows drew together. “What intentions?”

“It’s obvious you’re still hung up on your big brother, Anderson.”

I flinched. “He’s not my brother. Don’t call him that.”

“His words, not mine,” Leo replied easily. “The point is… you’re in love with the guy. It's obvious you're interested in him.”

Heat crept up my neck. I looked down.

“And I,” he said, voice lowering slightly, “am interested in you.” The statement landed like a physical impact.

“What?”

He raised a hand. “Let me finish.”

I nodded slowly, unable to do anything else.

“I don’t know what you see in him,” Leo went on, studying my face with unsettling focus. “But the heart doesn’t ask for logic before it decides where to land.”

I swallowed hard.

He crouched in front of me then, lowering himself until we were eye level. The movement was impossible to ignore.

“So here’s my proposal,” he said quietly.

My fingers curled against my knees. “What proposal?”

He raised one finger between us. “One month,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking.”

My breath caught.

“Give me one month, Ivy,” he continued, voice steady, certain. “Let me take you out. Spend time with you. Get to know who Ivana Lennon really is.” 

The room felt smaller suddenly, like the walls had drawn closer.

“And if,” he added, holding my gaze, “after that month you’re still hung up on Anderson… then I’ll help you get your sister, Madison, out of the way.”

The words settled heavily between us, charged with implication, impossible to ignore.

And I sat there, staring at him, heart racing, mind spinning, knowing that whatever happened next would change everything.