Dangerously Yours

Chapter 1: It's About Her

Ivy

Have you ever loved someone so completely that they stopped being a person and became a place?

Somewhere you lived. Somewhere you returned to, even when you swore you wouldn’t. Because I have.

My name is Ivy, and I’ve been in love with my best friend’s brother for as long as I can remember. Longer than I should admit. Long enough that it shaped the kind of woman I became—and the kind of heartbreak I learned to survive.

His name is Anderson Douglas. But we all call him Andy.

And the first time I almost died, Andy saved me.

I was ten years old when I fell into the deep end of Poppy’s pool. It was a blazing Sunday afternoon in Weeping Willow, the kind where the air shimmered and everyone pretended to be happy.

I didn’t know how to swim.

One second, I was laughing on the edge, my feet dangling in blue water. The next, the world tipped, and everything went wrong.

I remember panicking. Burning lungs. The muffled roar of water swallowing my screams. I remember thinking—very calmly, very stupidly—So this is how it happens. Just like in the movies.

But it didn’t.

Andy jumped in after me without hesitation. He was fourteen then, tall and sun-kissed and recklessly charming in the way only teenage boys can be. I remember his arms hauling me up. I remember coughing water onto hot concrete, and his hands shaking as he tilted my chin.

And then, his mouth on mine. The kiss of life.

I didn’t understand what it meant at ten. Only that his lips were warm, that his hair dripped water onto my cheeks, and that when I opened my eyes, his smiling face was the first thing I saw.

That was it. That was the moment. Love didn’t arrive gently. It slammed into me that day and never left.

Six years later, when I was sixteen and foolish enough to believe love letters could rewrite fate, I baked chocolate chip cookies from scratch and poured my heart onto lined paper. I told Andy we were soulmates. That I’d loved him since the day he saved me. That I dreamed of him in ways that weren't innocent.

I slipped the note into his jacket pocket and waited.

Andy didn’t kiss me. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t let me down gently. He showed the letter to my parents.

And that was the last week I spent in Weeping Willow.

California swallowed me whole after that. New schools. New faces. New versions of myself I tried on like borrowed clothes. I pretended I’d grown past him. I pretended I didn’t still dream of grey eyes and perfect smiles.

I pretended really well.

Until five years later during my sophomore year in college, a wildfire burned my life to ash and sent me running back to the one place I swore I’d never return.

Weeping Willow.

Now I stood on the front porch of the Douglas family home, suitcase in hand, heart in my throat.

The house looked the same. White siding. Green shutters. The porch swing that creaked when you sat too hard. Even the wind chimes were still there, tinkling softly like they hadn’t witnessed my exile.

My hand lifted, hovering inches from the door.

I froze.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I really should’ve thought this through.”

Poppy—my best friend, my lifeline, my constant—had begged me to stay with them. Her father and new stepmom had insisted. They said family takes care of family. Said I had nowhere else to go.

But standing here, reality hit me like a slap. Andy lives here. And worse, Maddie probably stays here sometimes. Maddie. My older half-sister. Andy’s girlfriend.

The universe really had a sick sense of humor.

I pictured them inside. Maddie’s laughter. Andy’s arm around her shoulders. The casual intimacy of a love that didn’t belong to me.

My chest tightened.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt.

I turned, deciding I’d rather endure my father’s constant disapproval and his new wife’s surgically perfected sneer than walk into this particular hell.

But the door opened. And everything stopped.

The scent of his cologne hit me first—warm, spicy and unmistakably him. My grip tightened on my suitcase as my lungs forgot how to work.

“Ivy?”

My name on his voice was enough to undo me. I turned slowly. And there he was.

Andy.

Older. Broader. More solid in a way that made my stomach drop. His hair was shorter now, neatly trimmed instead of the shaggy teenage mess I remembered. His jaw was sharper. His shoulders were wider. His hair was even a little darker.

But his eyes…Still grey. Still devastatingly magnetic. He looked at me like I was a ghost, his grin breaking free like he couldn’t stop it.

“It is you,” he said softly, like confirming a miracle.

And before I could react, he crossed the porch in two strides and pulled me into his arms. Tightly.

I froze, my body lighting up in ways I hated myself for. His hug was warm, familiar, terrifying. I inhaled, breathing him in, without meaning to, memorizing something I should’ve forgotten years ago.

And for a moment there, I hugged him back. I'd imagined doing this. And a part of me was happy I finally got to experience it.

He stepped back, hands still on my arms. “Never thought I’d see you again in Weeping Willow, Ivy Lennon.”

“Never thought I’d be back,” I said, my voice thinner than I wanted.

His smile faltered. He rubbed the back of his neck, guilt flickering across his face. “Poppy told me what happened. I’m… really sorry, Ivy.”

I nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Thanks. Guess college is going to have to wait for sometime.”

He reached for my suitcase automatically. “Let me help you. Come on.” He gestured inside. “And, uh—sorry in advance. It’s a mess in here.”

A real smile tugged at my lips despite everything. “Did Pony destroy something again?” I asked, referring to their adorable golden retriever.

He laughed, holding the door open. “Not Pony. This.”

I stepped inside—and stopped dead.

Red balloons floated everywhere. Rose petals littered the floor. Confetti clung to furniture like a crime scene aftermath. The living room literally looked like love had exploded.

“Oh,” I said faintly. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “It got a little out of hand.”

I swallowed. “Where’s Poppy? Looks like her handiwork.”

“She ran to the store. Forgot something important. She'll be back soon.”

My chest tightened. I turned slowly. “Did Maddie do this?”

His expression softened. “Not exactly,” he said. “But it’s about her.”

Something cold slid down my spine as he stepped closer, eyes bright with something dangerously close to happiness.

“I’m proposing tonight,” he said. “It’s her birthday. I thought it'd make it more special.”

The room tilted.

“I want everything to be perfect for her.”

And just like that, Weeping Willow welcomed me home by breaking my heart all over again.