Chapter 6: A Familiar Face

Ivy’s POV

The effect that Rowan’s presence had on me lingered long after I left the funeral. His voice, his eyes—everything about him ripped open wounds I thought had long since healed. I pressed my fingers to my temples as I walked, trying to push away the memories clawing at me.

I shouldn’t have come. I should have stayed home, and kept my head down like I have done for the past seven years. Now, I was falling apart, and I hated it.

The cemetery was mostly empty now, the last of the mourners leaving in small groups. My heels crunched against the gravel path as I made my way toward the exit, my heart still hammering from seeing Rowan again. But just as I reached the iron gates, a quick movement caught my eye.

A black sedan stood a few yards away. The tinted windows made it impossible to see inside, but something about it made my stomach tighten with dread. I picked up my pace.

Then, a sharp crack split the air.

Gunfire.

Instinct took over. I dropped to the ground just as another shot rang out, the sound bouncing off the tombstones. A bullet slammed into the gate where I had been standing seconds ago. Dust and metal shards flew.

Panic seized my chest, but I forced myself to move. Crawling behind a thick marble gravestone, I pressed my back against it, my breaths shallow and quick.

It's good thing I didn't bring Noah along.

Who the hell was shooting at me?

I don't remember having any enemies that would prefer me dead than alive.

My mind raced through the possibilities, but there wasn’t time to analyze. Footsteps crunched closer. My fingers clenched into fists. I had nothing to fight with, nowhere to run—

Then I heard a voice. Deep, and steady. "Stay down."

I turned my head sharply. A man crouched beside me, his gun drawn.

I didn't recognize him, as much as I tried to. But from his uniform, I could tell he was a cop. His blue eyes were fixated on me for a brief moment before scanning the area.

"Are you hit?" he asked, his tone calm despite the dangerous situation we were in.

I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.

"Good. On my count, we’re moving. Got it?"

Another bullet whizzed past, chipping off a piece of the gravestone near my head.

I swallowed hard. "Who are they?" I managed.

"Don’t know," he murmured. "But they’re bad shots."

I almost laughed at that, but another round of gunfire silenced me.

"Now," he ordered, grabbing my wrist.

We moved fast, staying low as we weaved between the graves. My heart pounded so hard I thought I might pass out, but I kept moving, my fingers gripping my savior’s jacket as he led the way.

The gunfire continued, but it was less precise now, like they were firing blindly.

Then, all of a sudden, there was total silence.

We reached the back fence of the cemetery, where the iron bars were slightly bent. The cop helped me climb over first before vaulting over effortlessly. We hit the ground running.

His car was parked a block away. He yanked the passenger door open, practically shoving me inside before jumping in himself.

"Keep your head down," he instructed, starting the engine.

The tires screeched against the pavement as he pulled onto the road. I braced myself, still trying to catch my breath.

We didn’t speak for a few minutes. My mind was still trying to process everything.

"Do you know who they were?" He finally asked, glancing at me.

I shook my head. "No."

I had no idea. Not even an inkling, which really frustrated me considering everything going on.

The cop didn’t push. He just nodded, keeping his hands steady on the wheel as he drove through the streets.

When we finally pulled up in front of my apartment, I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go inside alone. Not after what just happened.

He must have sensed it. "I’ll walk you up," he said simply.

I nodded, my throat dry.

The elevator ride was quiet, tension stretching between us. When we reached my door, I fumbled with the keys, my hands still shaking.

“You have helped me so much yet I don't even know your name.” I said to ease the tension and break the silence.

“Is that your way of asking me my name?”

“Yes.” I said pushing open the door.

“Gabe. Gabe Maxwell.”

“Gabe Maxwell. Thank you for saving me back there.”

“That's ok. It's my job.” But then he continued leaning against the wall, as he watched me. "You should report this."

I let out a breath. "And say what? That some faceless men tried to kill me for reasons I don’t know?"

"You could start with what you do know," he said, his voice gentle but firm.

I hesitated. Could I trust him?

His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I felt something unusual. The warmth in his eyes.

"I don’t want to get you involved," I whispered.

"You already did, sweetheart," he said, and the way he said it made my stomach flip. "And I don’t mind. In case you have forgotten I'm a cop.”

Something about that made my throat tighten.

I exhaled sharply, pushing the door open. "Do you—do you want to come in? Just for a minute?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."

Inside, I turned on the lights, my apartment feeling unusually quiet after everything that had just happened. Gabe took a quick glance around, his cop instincts probably scanning for threats.

"You live alone?" he asked.

I nodded. "Not really. I live with my son. Noah.”

He studied me for a beat, then sighed. "You should have someone else here. At least for tonight."

"I’ll be fine," I said, but even I didn’t believe it.

Gabe ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. "I could stay," he offered. "Just on the couch. You’d sleep better knowing someone’s here."

My heart did a weird little stutter.

I should say no.

But the thought of being alone, of replaying the shoot out over and over in my head, made me nod.

"Okay," I murmured.

Something crossed his face, but he just gave me a small smile. "Alright."

I grabbed a blanket and pillow, tossing them onto the couch. "I, uh… don’t have extra clothes or anything, but—"

"This is fine," he interrupted.

I swallowed, suddenly feeling awkward. "Okay. Well. Goodnight."

He nodded. "Goodnight, ehhh"

“Ivy.” I supplied.

Then he nodded his head “Ivy.”

I retreated to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. But even as I lay in bed, I knew I wouldn’t sleep.

Not with the memory of gunfire ringing in my ears. Not with the realization that someone wanted me dead.

And definitely not with Gabe just outside my door, making my heart race in an entirely different way.

I wasn’t sure which worried me more.