Ivy Bright has always believed that a smile can fix anything - even when life keeps proving her wrong. Stuck in a cold mansion with a neglectful mother and a cruel stepfather, she scrubs floors and hides her pain behind a cheerful mask, convinced th...
The ride home with Vale was smooth But the moment we pulled up to the house, Without a word, I climbed out of the car.
I barely registered the conversations happening around me as I slipped past the others, my feet instinctively carrying me to where I needed to be.
Declan.
He was sitting on the couch, his arm casually draped along the backrest, looking completely at ease. His sharp gaze lifted the moment I entered the room, and a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes as I walked straight toward him.
I didn't stop until I was right there, settling onto the couch beside him, close enough that my knee brushed against his.
Declan arched a brow. "Missed me?"
I didn't answer right away. Instead, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small bundle of flowers—simple wildflowers I had picked during lunch near the college bushes. Their petals were slightly crumpled from being in my bag, but they were still vibrant, still full of life.
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Holding them out to him, I smiled softly.
"This will make you feel better soon."
For a second, he just stared at the flowers in my hand. Then, his eyes lifted to mine, something unreadable flickering in their depths. He didn't take them right away.
"Ivy..." His voice was quieter, rougher.
"They're for you," I insisted, nudging them closer.
A slow exhale left his lips before he finally reached out, his large hand brushing against mine as he took them. He studied the small bouquet as if trying to understand why I had given them to him.
"Thank You Cupcake" he muttered, shaking his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
The other brothers, who had been casually observing from a distance, exchanged looks.
"You do realize it's just a scratch, right?" Jaxon drawled, arms crossed. "The way you're fussing, you'd think he was on his deathbed."
Zayn, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly grinned. "Actually, I was feeling a little weak earlier. Maybe I need some Ivy-style medicine too." He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "A hug, some head pats—maybe even some flowers for good luck."
I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible."
Zayn waggled his brows. "And yet, you love me."
Declan's lips twitched, but he said nothing—just watched me with that same quiet intensity, his fingers idly toying with the flowers in his hand.
Before anyone else could comment, Zayn clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough of this emotional moment. We need to do something fun."
