Chapter 114 Go Way Back

Chapter 114 Go Way Back
Chapter 114: Go Way Back

Leo 

“What are you actually talking about, Ivy? I'm lost.”

This was confusing. I knew the sound of her when she was embarrassed, or sad, or horny, or trying to pretend neither of those things were happening. This was different. I'd never fully experienced her real anger. That's why I'm confused. 

This anger had a deep grudge and history in it that I couldn’t see. Nor even try to understand. 

“And why do I get the feeling you’re talking about something I don’t know?” I asked. “But also that is still something I’m being accused of.”

She looked away. “Forget it. Get out.”

“No.” I said it like I meant it. “I’m not leaving. Not until you tell me what you mean.”

She was on her feet immediately. “I’m done with this conversation. Get out of my house, Mr. Teague.” She turned toward the little stairs I assumed led to her bedroom. “Or I’m calling the cops on you.”

That one almost hurt. Almost. Ivy threatening to put me in the back of a car over a Saturday night argument was so far from the girl who used to shyly look away if our eyes met across the room, that it knocked the air sideways. 

I was up before she’d taken two steps. 

If she thought she could throw my own words from five years ago in my face—the stupid, desperate shit I’d said when I thought trapping her with a pregnancy would keep her from leaving me—and then just walk off without explaining why she’d brought it up, she was dead wrong.

I caught her wrist and halted her steps. Then I pulled her back to me. “No. You’re not running from this. You’re not running from me.” 

She struggled, twisting her arm. “Stop it. Let go, Leo! Don't touch me!” 

“Not until you tell me what you’re hiding. Why bring that up? What don’t I know?”

A knock landed on the door. Both of us turned toward it. I didn’t need a name. I already hated the timing.

She pulled harder, desperate now, trying to put space between us like distance could undo the last ten minutes. “Stop. Alvin’s here. Leo, let go!”

I held on. “Not a chance.”

Another knock. Then her phone started ringing in her pocket. Of course it was him. Persistent motherfucker. Standing on the other side of a door he thought he had the right to knock on.

She looked like she was going to cry. “Leo, please. Let’s do this later. Please hide. He cannot find you here. I’m begging you.”

I let her go. Not because she’d asked nicely. Because hiding was the one thing I wasn’t going to do. “I’m not fucking hiding,” I said.

She glanced at the door, then back at me, panic bright in her eyes. “Please. He mustn’t find you here.”

I chuckled. It came out meaner than I meant. “I was here first. You really think I’m going to tuck myself into a closet like some pussy? Think again.”

Frustrated, she glared at me with wet eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I pointed at the door as I went back to the sofa and sat like I paid for the place. “He’s right outside. And dare I say, he’s getting impatient.”

Right on cue: another knock, then his voice. “Ivy? Are you in there?”

She gave me one last look, fingers tightening into fists, and walked to the door like she was walking toward a sentencing.

I relaxed into the cushions. Her speech from earlier was still hanging in the air. The part about responsibility. The part about me running. The part I was not going to let die just because a man named Alvin had learned how to knock at the wrong fucking time.

She opened the door.

“Jesus, Ivy. I was beginning to get worried.” He stepped in and closed it behind him, already talking. “What took you so long? I was even calling your—” Then he saw me.

He paused and took me in slowly. Then turned to her. “Am I seeing things?”

Ivy stood to the side like she wanted to melt into the paint. I could see the fear in her. Smell it, almost.

“Sorry. I was just having a discussion with him.” She pointed at me. The hand trembled. “Mr. Teague and I were just talking about Callum and—”

He didn’t let her finish. He was already crossing the room, jaw slack. “No way.”

I took a good look at what she’d tried to replace me with. And I honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or tie her up and spank her until she remembered the difference.

Because what the actual fuck was I looking at?

He looked like a ferret. Soft in the face. Eager in the eyes. The kind of man who brought wine and thought ramen was intimate. The kind of man who said babe like it was a personality.

He stopped in front of me. I waited, almost hoping he’d try something stupid. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelings to send him to urgent care.

What happened next was not on any list I had made. He turned to Ivy, eyes wide, thumb jabbing back at me.

“You casually have Tiger Teague sitting in your living room and you’re acting like it’s nothing? Are you out of your mind, babe? This is absolutely crazy!”

Ivy stared at him, thrown so far off her confession script she couldn’t find the page.

“You… know him?”

He looked at her like she’d asked if water was wet. “Of course. Who doesn’t? Well, except you, babe.” 

The babe tightened my fist. Affectionate. Easy. Like it was normal for him. 

He turned back to me and stuck his hand out, eager as a kid at a meet-and-greet. “Good evening! I’m Alvin. Ivy’s boyfriend.”

I stared at the hand. Then at him. Then at Ivy.

The look on her face was pleading. For one brief, vicious second I considered leaving him hanging. Just to watch the room tilt. Just to remind both of them who had been inside her while he was planning wine.

Then I stood and took the handshake. Because if she passed out from fear, I wouldn’t get the answer I came for.

“Leopold Teague,” I said, voice flat. “Callum’s father.”

“Of course. Yes.” He shook like he couldn’t believe the bones in my hand were real. His eyes never left my face.

I glanced at Ivy. She was already staring at me. I smirked, then looked back at her boyfriend. “You know me?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t? I’ve been a fan from day one. I’ve watched all your matches.” He laughed, a little breathless. “My girlfriend’s not into sports, so she’s a little thrown by all this.”

“I’m honored.” I wasn’t.

“Not gonna lie,” he kept going, “I heard from a colleague at work that you’re the new kid’s dad, and I’ve been dying to meet you. Called my girlfriend on her first day tutoring your son. Thought she might want me to pick her up. Was honestly hoping to use the opportunity to run into you.” He glanced back, grinning. “But she declined. Still so glad I met you—”

Then he stopped. Looked at Ivy. Looked at me. Looked at the mess of the popcorn. Frowned, the fan-boy shine dimming just enough to let a thought through.

“Hold on,” he said. “It’s Saturday night. What are you doing here? Ivy said weekdays only.”

The room went very still. Ivy’s mouth opened. Nothing useful came out. She looked at me and shook her head slowly. 

I sat back down. “We had unfinished business,” I said. “Really crucial.” 

Alvin blinked. “About your son?”

“Among other things.” I said casually. 

Ivy shot me a look that could have drawn blood. “Leo.”

“Mr. Teague,” I corrected, just to watch her flinch, then dropped it because I was done performing for him. “Your girlfriend and I go way back.”

Alvin’s brows furrowed. “Go way back?”