CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
BLAISE
Ivy was a ticking time bomb.
I reminded myself again, just in case my stupid heart needed another warning. And the thing with ticking bombs? You never quite know if they’ll go off with a soft click or an earth-shattering boom. Either way, you're left in pieces.
I was still mentally drafting escape plans—none of which involved successfully detaching my brain from my feelings—when she came running into the clearing, panting, hair flying like she had just barely escaped a war zone. Thirty minutes late. Classic.
"You’re late," I said, arms folded, voice flat.
She bent over, hands on her knees, wheezing like someone who’d just wrestled with a mountain lion. "I’m sorry," she gasped. "I slept in."
I stared at her like she’d just told me she forgot her sword on bat
