Chapter 73: The Switch

Chapter 73: The Switch

Leo

It worked.

She was out like a light.

My gentle girl had gone soft and heavy after the first round, body curling into itself the way I've come to understand she always did when exhaustion finally won.

One minute she was still making those quiet, content sounds against my neck. The next, her breathing had evened out into the slow rhythm of real sleep.

I stayed still for a few extra seconds just to be sure. Watched the rise and fall of her bare shoulder. Listened for any shift that might mean she was only drifting. Nothing. She was gone. I eased out of her immediately.

There was no satisfaction in the idea of touching her while she was unconscious.

I mean, there's no fun in fucking a comatose girl, is there?

I pulled the duvet up over her carefully, tucking it around her so the cool air from the vents wouldn’t reach her skin.

I dressed in silence and took both phones. Hers and mine. Lowered the AC another two degrees so she wouldn’t wake up chilled. Then I left the bedroom, closing the door with the quietest click I could manage.

Downstairs, the house felt too quiet.

It was a little past three in the afternoon. Every trained instinct I had told me I should be in the gym by now, working the restlessness out of my system the only way that usually worked. I ignored it.

Spending time with Ivy mattered more.

The kitchen still smelled faintly of the meals Mrs. Kathy had prepared before she left. Containers lined the fridge in neat rows.

I could have heated any of them. Instead I pulled out my phone, opened YouTube, and scrolled until I found something simple enough that I wouldn’t burn the place down and I set to work.

Chopping. Measuring. Stirring. The ordinary rhythm of it gladdened me more than I expected.

I wanted her to wake up to the smell of food made specifically for her and know, even half-asleep, that someone had been thinking about her.

I was nearly finished when the doorbell rang. I knew who it was before I even turned off the stove. Poppy.

I washed my hands, dried them on a towel, and walked to the front door with the kind of calm that always came right before I wanted to put my fist through something.

She stood there holding a small paper bag. “Leo! Good evening.” Her voice was bright, almost chirpy. “Is Ivy in?”

I opened the door wider and stepped aside so she could enter. Leaving her on the threshold would only make her more suspicious.

“Yes. But she’s asleep. She’s… very exhausted.”

Poppy wandered into the living room like she lived here, eyes already drifting toward the staircase. “Can you wake her up? She’s in your bedroom, yeah? Or I can go wake her myself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I moved without thinking, placing myself between her and the stairs. “She’s tired. I drained her. She needs sleep.”

Her gaze flicked down to the apron I was still wearing. A small frown tugged at her mouth. “You’re cooking for Ivy?”

“Yes. I told you I wore her out. I wanted something ready when she wakes up.”

She studied me for a long second, suspicion sitting plain on her face. “She asked me for something. Can I drop it upstairs?”

No. You will hand me that bag so I can flush whatever is inside it and replace it with something harmless. Vitamins. Anything. Just not what she thinks she’s getting.

Out loud I said, “As long as you don’t disturb her sleep. I’ll lead the way.”

She followed me up the stairs in silence. My gut told me she was already planning something stupid the moment we reached the bedroom.

Halfway up she spoke again, voice carefully casual. “Julia is worried about you and Ivy.”

“Why?” I glanced back at her. “Does she miss me that badly?”

“You know why.”

“Does my mom mistake me for my dad now?” I let out a short, humorless chuckle. “She thinks I’m a bad choice for Ivy, isn’t that right?”

“That’s not what she meant. She just thinks Ivy moving in with you was… too fast.”

I stopped on the landing. “Too fast?” The words came out flatter than I intended. “But she moved in under the same roof with Anderson. That wasn’t too fast?”

Poppy’s expression tightened. “She fears you’ll have another episode and hurt her in the process. That it’ll open Pandora’s box all over again.”

I scoffed. “She still sees me as a nutjob.”

“She’s worried about you, Leo. And she’s worried about Ivy too. Let’s not forget that Solomon isn’t exactly fond of Ivy either.”

“I’ll handle my father.” My voice stayed low. “If my mother was truly worried about me she would be here. Not over there with the people who murdered her child and ripped what was left of our family to shreds.”

“Leo!” The gasp was sharp.

I turned fully to face her. “What? Forgive me if I don’t have the capacity to magically forget that your family tore mine apart so they could fix yours. It’s not something I can ever forget.”

I opened the bedroom door carefully.

Ivy was still asleep, back facing us, red hair spilled across the pillow. The room was dim enough that the faint bruises from the night before stayed hidden. I was grateful for the shadows.

“Don’t wake her,” I hissed. “Be as quiet as possible.”

Poppy gave me one long look, then moved toward the bed. She set the paper bag on the bedside table with deliberate care. I felt a fraction of the tension in my shoulders ease.

Then all of a sudden, she reached for the light switch. Warm golden light flooded the room.

I stepped forward immediately, anger rising hot and fast. Ivy only stirred, a small shift under the duvet, and settled again.

Poppy stood over her, studying her face like she was checking for proof that I had been telling the truth about the exhaustion.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I reached past her and killed the light.

“Nothing.” Her voice was too calm. “Just… checking.”

“Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Now. Don’t make me drag you out, Poppy.”

She held my stare for a defiant second longer than was wise, then turned and walked out. I followed close enough that she could feel me at her back the entire way down the stairs.

At the front door she started to speak. “Tell Ivy—”

“Leave.” The word came out sharp enough to cut. “And don’t come back here if you’re going to pull a stunt like that again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If you have nothing to hide, why are you this scared?”

I laughed once. “Scared? Tell me the real reason you turned that light on. I told you not to wake her.”

“You know why I did that.” She glared up at me. “You nearly killed my brother. I just wanted to make sure my best friend was still in one piece.”

The nerve of her.

The absolute fucking audacity to walk into my house, question me, and act like she had any right to police what happened under my roof.

I had already had enough.

I grabbed her by the upper arm—not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough that she knew I was done talking—and swung the front door open. I put her outside and shut it in her face with enough force that the sound echoed through the entryway.

“Stupid.” I muttered.

I took the stairs two at a time, already planning the switch. Flush the real pills. Replace them with something harmless. Be back downstairs before Ivy even stirred.

I pushed the bedroom door open. And stopped cold.

Ivy was awake.