The sisters couldn’t get enough.
Tonight they’d gathered at Ivy’s little house. Her son, West, was spending the night with his grandparents, and Ivy had picked up six Italian meals from a restaurant downtown. She always bought more than was needed for the three of them, saying she and West were happy to eat Italian food for the rest of the week. It was a form of grocery shopping for her.
The delicious food had been attacked and the leftovers put away in the fridge two hours ago. The sisters had moved on to cookies, chips, and ice cream to watch the fourth episode of the evening.
Thor hopped off the couch from beside Rowan and paced through the kitchen. Rowan watched him out of the corner of her eye as she focused on the ridiculous kissing contest on TV. One woman was kissing every one of the blindfolded men as they tried to guess who she was.
“Gross. Bacteria. Spit. Now shared between all of them,” stated Iris. Out of the sisters, she talked the most during the show, often stating the obvious.
Thor growled. He’d stopped at the door to Ivy’s backyard and shoved his snout between the closed drapes and the glass.
“Does he need to go out?” Ivy paused the show.
“He just went,” said Rowan, levering herself off the couch and feeling the pasta shift in her belly. “He did the same thing at my place yesterday. Do you have coyotes or anything?”
“Every house in this neighborhood has tall fences and little yards,” said Ivy. “Coyotes would be trotting down the street out front—which I have seen. Would he growl if a cat was wandering around?”
“No, he loves cats for some weird reason.”
Rowan pushed the curtain aside to see into the dark backyard. Something tall darted out of her vision, and she caught her breath. “Ivy, there’s someone in your backyard. He just ran to the far end of the house. Are your doors and windows locked?” She flipped the door’s lock.
Her sisters simultaneously got to their feet, and Ivy went pale. Iris dashed to the front door. “This one’s locked.”
“Are your windows locked?” Rowan repeated, staring at Ivy. Her sister seemed unable to speak.
“I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Turn on all the outdoor lights,” ordered Rowan, flicking the switch by the door. “Scare him off.”
Breaking glass sounded from down the hall.
Rowan grabbed Thor’s collar as he lunged in the direction of the noise. She pointed at Iris. “Call 911.” She crossed the family room and took Ivy’s arm. Her sister was frozen. “Where are your car keys?” Ivy silently pointed at her purse on the kitchen counter, and Rowan felt her shaking.
“Adam,” Ivy whispered. “It’s got to be Adam.”
Adam was her loser ex-husband and West’s father.
“We’re taking your car and getting out of here.” She pulled Ivy and Thor toward the garage door in the kitchen, pausing to let Ivy dig in the purse for the keys. Rowan had Ubered to her sister’s home because sometimes TV night turned into margarita night or martini night. Iris spoke to the 911 operator, relaying what had happened.
“Why would it be Adam?” asked Rowan.
“Wait!” Ivy pulled out of her grasp and ran back to the sofa, dropping to her knees. Thor whined and pulled against his collar, wanting to follow. Ivy reached underneath and pulled out a wooden baseball bat.
“Jesus, Ivy.” Surprise shot through Rowan’s nerves. “What made you stash that there?”
“I’ve got two more. One by my bed and another near the front door.” Her sister gripped the bat, seeming to draw strength from it.
“Why?” Rowan turned to Iris, studying her face to see if she’d known about Ivy’s home protection system. Her eyes were wide, and she gave a small shake of her head, the phone still to her ear.
She doesn’t know why.
Rowan spun back to Ivy. “What did Adam do?” She grabbed her sister’s arm again and hauled her toward the garage door, Iris close behind. “Did he threaten you?”
The divorce seven years ago had been ugly. Especially considering the couple had only been married for two months. Adam had struggled to accept that Ivy no longer found him irresistible after he’d been charged with domestic assault. But when he’d discovered she was pregnant, he couldn’t get away fast enough. He’d appeared a few times over the last seven years. Usually trying to coerce money from Ivy. Never interested in seeing West.
Rowan hated him.
“He wanted to meet with West,” Ivy said as they dashed down the few steps into the garage. “I told him no, and he threatened to take him away.”
“That makes no sense. He never cared before and gave up his rights.” Rowan let Thor in the back seat as Ivy went around to the passenger side. Ivy clutched the bat with both hands, her knuckles white. Rowan let Iris, who was still on the phone, climb in after Thor. Then Rowan slammed the door and got in the driver’s seat. “Tell them it’s her ex-husband,” Rowan said, buckling her seat belt and starting the car. “He’s threatened to take her son.”
“I have a restraining order,” added Ivy as she sat, still gripping the bat. “Last time he came he said he had a gun.”
Rowan’s hand hovered over the garage door opener on the visor by her head as she tried to process Ivy’s words. “He threatened you with a gun? And you bought baseball bats? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wouldn’t buy a gun with West in the house!” Ivy shouted at her. “I can barely shoot one even after the classes I took. Do you think I could fire at a person? They’d take it away from me before I could squeeze the trigger!”
Rowan hit the garage door button, put the car in reverse, and held her breath, her eyes locked on the door that led to the kitchen. The opener’s motor seemed deafening.
If he’s in the house, he’ll hear the garage door opener.
Does he have the gun?
The motor above their heads rattled and groaned, slowly sliding open the big door.
So. Slow.
Thor’s panting filled the car, and Rowan flicked her gaze between the rising door in the rearview mirror and the door to the kitchen, praying for no one to open that door and shoot at the windshield.
“I don’t understand why he suddenly wants West,” Ivy whispered. “He’s ignored his son all his life.”
In the back seat, Iris told the dispatcher the man might have a gun and they were about to back out of the garage. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Go, Rowan! It’s high enough!”
Rowan agreed and stepped on the gas. The car shot out of the garage. A loud thump and crack sounded as something large hit the right rear fender. Ivy screamed, and Rowan hit the brakes.
I hit him.
“Don’t stop!” Ivy shrieked.
Rowan twisted in her seat, trying to see out the windows into the dark, thinking she’d seen a flash of a male silhouette to the side.
Are there two men?
No one was visible in her mirrors or out the windows.
It had to be one man.
“Go! Go!” shouted Ivy. She slammed the bat on her lap.
“I don’t want to back over him!”
“Fucking run him over!”
Sirens sounded and flashing lights filled the street.
“They’re here!” Iris told the dispatcher. “Tell the police we’re in the car in the driveway! And we might have hit the guy.”
Two patrol units blocked the driveway. “Turn off the car!” one officer shouted.
Rowan turned it off and held her breath, watching the officers in her mirrors. Their weapons were drawn and pointed at the back of the car.
No. Pointed at the ground behind the car.
“Drop the weapon! Drop the weapon!”
Ivy shoved her bat to the floor.
“They’re not yelling at us,” Rowan said, trying to steady her voice. Ivy was panting, her face wet with tears. She covered her eyes and started to shake.
“Thank God West wasn’t here.” Her voice cracked on his name.
Rowan watched in the rearview mirror as one of the officers holstered his gun and bent over behind the car while two other officers covered him.
She let out a shuddering breath as Thor shoved himself between the front seats, trying to get to Rowan. She scratched his head. “Shhhh. Good boy.”
It’s over.