When I asked how she was doing, she kept saying she was fine, but I seriously doubted it. I mean, how could seeing that shit not affect her given everything she’s been through? Even though she has no conscious memory of her own car accident, the events of yesterday had to have struck a chord. I’m almost positive her headaches are back. Though she denied it when I asked.
When we went to bed, I spooned her and held her close. Not in a sexual way or anything. I just wanted to reassure her that she was all right. That she was safe with me. But she tossed and turned all night. At least she was sleeping when I had to leave this morning.
After the study group is over, I look around for my next appointment. It’s a couple of freshmen guys on the football team who are always late. Normally, I hang out for a while and wait for them, but not today. I tell Kelly, who is tutoring a couple of accounting students, that my next appointment is a no-show and that I’m leaving.
“Is Ivy okay?” she asks, frowning. “She didn’t look so good yesterday.”
At least I’m not over-reacting and imagining things. “It hit her pretty hard. I’m going to go check on her.”
I’m halfway back to the White House when I realize Ivy might have gone home. I pull my motorcycle to the curb, strip off my gloves and text James.
He answers right away. Nope. She’s not here.
I turn the bike around. A few minutes later, after waving to the RA manning the front desk, I’m standing in the hall outside Ivy’s dorm room.
I knock, but no one answers.
The white board says Back at 6, but it’s Cassidy’s handwriting, not Ivy’s. Only one room on the floor has its door open. I stride down there and knock. The two twin beds are elevated, and there’s a disco ball and a bunch of pillows under one of them.
A tall, lanky guy looks up from his desk near the window. “Hey, what’s up?”
“I’m looking for Ivy,” I say, pointing down the hall.
“I haven’t seen her, but then a bunch of people went to dinner a few minutes ago. Maybe she’s with that group.”
“At the dining hall?”
“Yep. The one across the street.”
“Thanks.”
I turn to go, but then he says, “Hey, you’re Jon Priestly, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought so. I recognized your voice. When I have a kickback, we sometimes listen to your show.” He indicates the space under the bed.
“Sweet, bro. I appreciate that.”
When I get to the dining hall, I scan the tables. A few people say hi, including a couple of Parishioners in pink shirts, but I don’t stop and talk to them. Unless there’s a section I can’t see, Ivy isn’t here. And I don’t see any of her friends either. Maybe they went to a different dining hall instead. Or somewhere off-campus.
Once I’m back outside, I lean against a nearby pillar and check my phone. Still no text. Shit. I have Cassidy’s number saved in my phone from when Ivy called her once, but I don’t want to involve her yet.
I head back to Ivy’s room to leave a message on her white board, letting her know that I stopped by. When I reach for the dry erase pen hanging from a string, a shadow moves in the small gap between the door and the floor. Someone’s inside.
Did we just miss each other?
I knock. No answer.
“Ivy? Are you there?” I knock again.
I hear shuffling.
“Jon?”
Relief washes over me at the sound of her voice. I didn’t realize I was so tense. “Yeah, it’s me.”
The door swings open. Ivy’s standing there in a t-shirt and pajamas as if she just rolled out of bed. She wasn’t out to dinner. She was here the whole time.
“Are you okay?” I step in and let the door close behind me.
She’s got dark circles under her eyes and looks like crap. God, is she sick? I put my arm around her shoulder and lead her back to bed.
“I’m…I’m fine. Was that…you earlier, knocking?”
“You don’t look fine.” I help her in and pull up the covers.
“Just a little headache, that’s all.”
Goddamn it. She needs to go to the doctor and get a refill of her migraine medicine. I don’t want to push her and yet I may have to.
“What’s going on? Talk to me.” I brush a piece of hair from her face. “Did the accident bring back some bad memories?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” she says, but I sense there’s more.
Spotting that threadbare lemur under the pillow, I pull it out and tuck it in with her.
Her eyes meet mine as she hugs the stuffed animal close.
“You can talk to me, Ivy,” I repeat. “Please, I want to know what’s bothering you?”
With a gasping sob, she squeezes me tight. “Someone’s been...stalking me online.”
“What the fuck? Who? How? Since when?” My brain literally swirls with a million other questions.
“Almost two years.”
Two fucking years? Oh my God. “Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
Her breath hiccups against me. “I was sick of it dominating my life, and I’d hoped it was behind me. So I was like, why say anything if it’s in the past now?”
Which means that it’s not. “Do you know who it is?”
“A guy from my high school. Remember when you found me on the roof?”
How could I forget?
“Well, he was at the party, checking out the school. He didn’t know I go here, so I kind of freaked out when I saw him. He didn’t see me then, but he knows I’m here now.”
A surge of adrenaline hits me like a gunshot, and my whole body tenses. “The fucker was in my house?”
“Yeah, but he’s back in Lincoln Falls now.”
“How do you know?”
“My little sister goes to the same high school and texts me. And my mom saw him in the grocery store the other day.”
I stand and pace around the room. There’s a guy who’s been tormenting Ivy for two goddamn years, and he was in my house? I want to punch my fist through something right now.
She tells me about the email she received at her PSU student email address and about all the things he did when she had social media accounts. I cannot fucking believe someone is doing all this to her. And that I didn’t know. I’m so pissed off at myself that I didn’t figure out something like this was going on.
“Have you told anyone?”
“You mean like the police?”
“The police. Your parents. Anyone who can help you. It’s not like he’s some anonymous troll. You know who he is.”
“His dad is the police chief of Lincoln Falls, and it’s not like he threatened me or anything. Besides, he’s never used his name. I just know it’s him.”
“I don’t fucking care if his dad is the President. What he’s doing is wrong, Ivy, not to mention illegal. What did your parents say?”
“My parents?” She sniffs and tells me about the conversation with her mom today. “So I wouldn’t exactly call them supportive.”
I don’t know where to start or what I should do to help her. But what I do know is that I’m sure as hell going to do something.
chapter twenty-one
Hey, you need to get your shit together.
Ivy
My heart races as I stare across the street at the orange awning of the Student Counseling Center.
“You’re going to be fine, Ivy,” Jon says, jutting his chin in that direction. “This is going to be fine. Good, even.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“I know it’s scary, babe,” he says, rubbing my back. “But you’ll feel better talking with a professional about what’s been going on.”