Trish swiped at her cheeks. "I'm… God, I'm so sorry, Ivy. This is all my fault."
"Hey." Ivy blinked weakly, the faintest crease appearing between her brows. "Don't say that."
"I have to. I wasn't kidnapped, Ivy. I wasn't even touched. I was safe the whole time. And I was the one who told everyone you got cold feet. I started it. If I hadn't—if I had just thought—maybe they would've looked for you sooner."
"I would think the same too," Ivy whispered, her voice cracking like thin glass. "I was so scared, Trish."
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, tracing paths through the faint bruising along her jaw.
"Oh, I know, love. I know." Trish bent forward, resting her forehead against Ivy's. Her fingers threaded gently through Ivy's hair. "God, you look like hell, darling. But you're here. That's what matters." She tried to smile. There was so much she should have questioned, so many signs she had missed.
"How is Winn?" Ivy asked.
