Ivy stood at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her hair was still a mess from quick towel drying perhaps, her eyes heavy lidded like she was drunk but sharp with suspicion. She glanced between Axel and Grandma, her lips pressed into a thin line.
“What were you two really doing?” she asked, her voice low.
Axel leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, a perfect picture of forced nonchalance. “Like I said. Checking the damage.”
Ivy’s eyes flicked to the kitchen counter…where the fruit knife was still embedded in the cutting board.
Axel followed her gaze and winced. s**t!
Grandma, ever the master of deflection, hummed as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Oh, that? Axel was just helping me with the fruit. Got a little… enthusiastic.”
Ivy’s
