He could help, but he won’t. He’ll let her die. I didn’t want to imagine myself at Ivy’s funeral. I didn’t want to think about the fact that she was all I had left. I didn’t want to feel like someone had carved out my insides, like I was empty and hollow and crumbling apart.
No. I couldn’t do this, couldn’t go down that rabbit hole. Ivy’s going to be fine. I’ll hate her forever if something happens to her. She’s going to be fine.
I walked the length of the living room. Around the futon. Around the desk, and then I stopped, thinking of Adam sitting at the desk the night before. I tested the drawer, expecting it to be locked.
It wasn’t.
Inside, I found a neat line of pens, printer paper, and a photograph, tucked into the side. I gingerly pulled it out and turned it over.
Ivy and Adam.
Her hair was in a messy ponytail. His was buzzed close to his head. They were young. Ivy couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty.
She had my smile, I thought, forcing myself to stare masochistically at the curve of her lips. On the heels of that crippling thought came a second one. Ivy knew Adam when she was young.
And then I remembered Ivy’s words the day she put me on the plane: He was young, too, recently enlisted. I reached out to the desk to steady myself, my fingers digging into the wood.
There was never a day, Adam had said, not a single one where she didn’t think of you. He’d said those words like he knew—what it was like for Ivy, thinking of me every single day.
What if he wasn’t just talking about Ivy?
I could see Adam in my memory, standing behind Ivy, his hand on her shoulder as she told me the truth. I could see Adam, sitting in the passenger seat of his car as he taught me to drive. I could see Adam, reading me the riot act, telling me that family doesn’t run off when things get hard.
I could see Adam the first time he’d ever seen me, looking at me like I was something precious. Like I was a ghost.
Vivvie came to stand behind me. “Your sister,” she said, looking at the photograph. “And Adam. They look so young.”
That girl crawled under your skin years ago. Adam’s father’s voice echoed through my head. I’ve never understood the hold she has on you.
“She’s not my sister.” I was staring at the photograph—at a college-aged Ivy and a younger Adam—so I didn’t get to see the expression that crossed Vivvie’s face in response to my words. “She’s my mother. I didn’t know.” My eyes blurred with tears. I blinked them away and kept staring at the photo. “She was a teenager when she had me. She said my father was military.”
Adam was military.
You’re not the only one who loves her, he’d told me the night before. But I know where your sister would want me, and that’s here. With you.
I hadn’t questioned why Ivy would want Adam with me. Adam, not Bodie, even though Bodie was the one I saw every day.
I hadn’t questioned the way that Adam, Ivy, and Bodie all seemed so intent on keeping me away from Adam’s father.
I thought it was because he was powerful and dangerous if crossed. But what if that wasn’t it? My father is very family-oriented. Adam had said those words in a way that wasn’t complimentary.
“Tess?”
It took me a moment to realize that Adam was the one who’d said my name, not Vivvie. He walked over to me and saw the photograph in my hand.
“You and Ivy have known each other a long time,” I said, my throat tightening around the words. “Are you . . . Are you and I . . .” Say it, Tess. Just say it. “Are you my—”
“Vivvie, your aunt is downstairs.” Adam interrupted my question. “And my father’s visit has put your bodyguard on edge.”
With one last glance in my direction, Vivvie was out the door, leaving Adam and me alone. I stared at him, searching for similarities in our features, the way I’d looked at my own reflection, searching for Ivy.
Adam’s hair was brown. His eyes were blue, but there was something familiar about the shape.
“Adam.” I forced his name out. “Ivy said my father was young. She said he was in the military. You two have known each other for a very long time.” My mouth felt like cotton. My tongue felt too thick for my mouth. “When I first got here, I heard you say that Ivy shouldn’t have brought me to DC because she wasn’t on good terms with your father. You didn’t want me to meet him.” I paused, then corrected myself. “You never wanted him to meet me.”
No response. Adam wasn’t telling me I was wrong.
“Ivy’s missing,” I said, choking on the words, “and you’re here. With me.” I ripped off the bandage, rushing out the words. “Are you my father?”
“Tess.” Adam’s voice was thick with emotion.
That wasn’t a no.
“Ivy’s the one who should be having this conversation with you,” Adam said. “We’ll tell you everything, I promise, just—”
Just let us get her back, I finished.
“And what if we don’t get her back?” I asked. “What if we never get her back?”
What if, what if, what if—
Before Adam could answer, there was a knock. Moving briskly, Adam steered me to the side of the room. His hand went to his side as he went to answer the door, and I realized that he was wearing a gun.
Another knock. Adam looked through the peephole. Then he opened the door.
“Captain Keyes,” President Nolan greeted him. “We need to talk.”
CHAPTER 60
The president had two Secret Service agents with him. After my experience with Kostas, the president’s security detail would never fade into the background for me again.
“Mr. President.” Adam led the group into the living room. I eased out from my spot behind the wall.
“Have a seat, Captain,” the president said, taking a seat himself.
Adam sat, every muscle in his body taut. I stayed standing. The president removed something from his jacket lapel and handed it to Adam.
“You might want to ask the girl to leave the room,” he said, the words residing somewhere between an order and a suggestion.
It probably said something about Adam’s mental state that he chose to interpret it as a suggestion. He didn’t tell me I could stay, but he didn’t tell me to leave, either.