Kate noticed the change before Ivy even realized it herself.
It was in the way her little sister stopped meeting her eyes. The way she kept touching the leather bracelet around her wrist like it grounded her. The way she smiled to herself when no one was speaking. Like she was holding onto a secret.
A dangerous one.
That morning, Kate caught Miles alone in the hallway, walking out of the library.
"Miles," she said carefully.
He looked up, polite and unreadable. "Miss Mandell."
She hated how he always used that tone — cold, formal. Not fitting for a boy his age.
"I'd like to speak with you."
He nodded. "Of course."
"In private."
He smiled faintly. "Lead the way."
She brought him to the sunroom. The windows were fogged, the furniture covered with white sheets, like ghosts frozen in time.
"I know what you're doing," she said quietly.
Miles raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"With Ivy," Kate pressed. "You're getting too close. You're crossing lines."
He tilted his head. "She doesn't seem to mind."
"She's confused. We both lost our parents — she's vulnerable right now."
"She's not a child," he said smoothly. "She understands me."
Kate stepped forward, voice sharper. "You're manipulating her."
Miles stared at her, his gaze now void of warmth. "You don't really know your sister, do you?"
Kate froze.
He added, "You think she's fragile, but she's not. She's lonely. And she likes the attention. She likes me."
"You're sick," Kate whispered.
He smiled slowly. "Maybe. But I'm not the only one."
Later that evening, Kate tried to talk to Ivy while they were brushing their teeth in the upstairs bathroom. Ivy avoided her reflection in the mirror.
"Ivy," Kate began, "has Miles been... inappropriate with you?"
Ivy's heart lurched. She didn't turn around.
"No," she lied.
Kate stepped closer. "Because if he has—"
"He hasn't," Ivy snapped, finally facing her. "He's the only one around here who actually talks to me."
Kate flinched.
Ivy's voice cracked as she continued, "You're always stressed. You act like I'm a child who needs babysitting, but I'm not. He makes me feel seen."
Kate looked stunned. "He's manipulating you."
"You don't know him," Ivy said flatly. "He's not what you think."
"Ivy, he was expelled—"
"Because he was defending himself!" Ivy's voice rose. "You always think the worst of people."
Kate stared at her sister like she didn't recognize her anymore.
That night, Ivy lay in bed, unable to stop replaying the conversation in her mind. Guilt itched beneath her skin, but not because she'd defended Miles.
Because she had meant it.
She felt something new now. A connection that twisted around her like vines. Tightening. Holding.
A soft knock came at her door.
She opened it slowly.
Miles stood there in pajama pants and a dark shirt, barefoot, curls still wet from a shower. His face was unreadable.
"I heard you and Kate," he said.
Ivy looked down, ashamed.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
He stepped in without asking. Closed the door behind him.
"You don't need to apologize," he whispered. "You were perfect."
She looked up.
"I like that you defended me," he said. "That you believe in me."
"I do," Ivy whispered. "I really do."
He stepped closer.
"I think you're the only one who's ever tried to understand me."
Her heart thundered in her chest.
"You don't have to be afraid around me," he murmured. "I'd never hurt you."
He reached up and gently touched the ribbon in her hair. His fingers brushed her cheek, then moved down to her wrist — the one wearing his bracelet.
"You wear it all the time," he said quietly.
She nodded.
"It's mine now," she whispered.
He smirked.
"No," he said. "You're mine."
Her breath caught — part thrill, part fear, part something darker.
Then he leaned forward... and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Not her lips. Not yet.
But it lingered too long to feel innocent.
"Goodnight, Ivy," he murmured, then walked out, closing the door behind him.
She stood frozen.
And for the first time in days...
She smiled.