Page 17 of Meet Me in Ivy Falls

The truth about Huckleberry Lane burned on my lips. How I’d bought the house for her in hopes it would make up for all the times I’d failed her, but the softness in her voice stopped me.

For once, I wanted our conversation to end on a pleasant note even though I wanted to warn her to be safe. To make good decisions. But she was twenty-four years old, living in a huge city with all kinds of temptation. Temptation that kept me awake at night.

No matter my pleas, or promises that things would get better, she had to want to stay clean. I’d learned over the years, and two stints of inpatient rehab, that she wasn’t going to listen to me no matter how hard I tried.

I drove into town and took a turn at the only stoplight. It surprised me that the once bustling square now had a few empty storefronts. As I continued to drive toward Huckleberry Lane, I laughed again at how odd the business signs were.

The one outside Followes Music read, Do We Sell Sheet Music? Of Chorus We Do! At the corner, the sign for Minnie’s Market said, Cheese Is Always A Gouda Choice.

Another laugh exploded from my lips, releasing all the tension I’d been holding in my body since my run-in with Torran. The way she’d stared at me like she thought I was a total idiot made me even more determined to make the house beautiful again despite the fact that I had no idea where to find a contractor. I did have Diego though. I was sure he had some connections in the community.

A few more turns and I pulled into the driveway of Huckleberry Lane. Again I was shocked by the sad state it was in. It reminded me of a pair of beat-up loafers I’d had as a kid. They were scuffed, worn down in places, but the soles were still sturdy enough to carry you all the way to the state line. All it would take was some work, a little polish, and the house would be better than new.

Determination shot through me. I was going to do this by the book and prove Torran wrong. Hell, if it turned out nice enough maybe I’d sell my condo and move in, although I was sure that’d be quite the negotiation with Piper, especially since she was always accusing me of acting like a helicopter brother.

Heat from the early morning sun warmed my head as I climbed out of my car and walked across the weed-riddled front lawn. When I reached the front door, I planted my feet and braced for what I might find inside.

The knob wouldn’t budge.

Crap.

When I dropped off the checks to Diego he’d warned me it would be my job to figure out how to get inside. The last renters had disappeared in the night taking the only set of keys with them.

The back of the house was in even worse shape. Broken lawn chairs littered the charred grass. And I meant charred. Someone had doused the ground with gasoline and set half the backyard on fire. The scent of burnt metal and plastic made my heart race.

Flickers of the explosion that took my parents’ lives filled my ears. The skin on my arms and chest ached. I gulped down the acid coating my throat as my knees buckled beneath me.

I never knew when the memories would be triggered. Sometimes I’d be sitting alone in my office and a jarring sound like the slamming of a door would send me down a dark spiral. Other times I could be at a restaurant or a bar and the whoosh from a lit grill would make the terrifying fragments of that day come alive in my mind.

My hands continued to shake. The rise and fall of my chest stuttered until I reminded myself that I was safe. That all of it was over. In the past.

If only my brain would get the message.

Coming back to Ivy Falls was a mistake. There were too many memories here. Reminders of what I’d lost. It was simply brick and wood but if I stood still, let the air go quiet, I could almost hear my parents’ laughter inside as my father stumbled and dropped the cake he’d made for Mom’s fortieth birthday. How Piper’s tap shoes clicked on the stairs as she made her way down in some frilly pink costume for a dance recital.

It all was a reminder of why I’d been pulled back here. Why I needed to restore the house. Once I’d put it back right, made it shiny and new, Piper would realize that we could start a new chapter. That her life could be vibrant and happy again.

I shook out the pain in my arms and made slow steps over dozens of smashed beer bottles and cigarette butts. At the back of the house, I found another row of broken windows, the jagged edges reminding me of sharp monster teeth. The last thing I wanted to do was crawl over shattered glass, but at this point it was that or kick down a door.

I pulled a pair of old gloves from my back pocket and used a dismembered chair leg to smash out the window over the sink. After clearing away most of the glass, I slid an old towel over the opening and climbed through like a snake on its belly.

The smell of shit hit me first. I threw an arm over my nose and raced to shove open the rest of the windows in the back part of the house.

As soon as light flooded the space, blood left my head and drained to my toes. It was worse than I could have ever imagined. The kitchen was nothing but a shell of broken cabinets and cracked tile countertops. Deep gouges, like hammer marks, covered most of the hardwood floors. I walked the rest of the house, finding new horrors in every room.

I trudged up the creaky staircase and took in a full breath before I pushed open the door to the master bedroom. Black wires hung from the ceiling where a light fixture used to be. Wide gashes made by a sledgehammer left chunks of drywall scattered over the floor. I turned in a slow circle taking in the damage. Diego said the last renters were angry about being kicked out, but why would anyone do this to a house?

A faint dripping sound filled the room. Water rings covered the ceiling in what resembled yellow piss stains.

Out in the hall, a red nylon cord hung from the ceiling. I yanked on it and the door to the attic released, revealing a narrow set of rickety wood stairs. Once the steps were locked, I climbed into the narrow crawl space. Spindly pink insulation hugged the walls. The rotting smell of wet wood filled the air.

With the punch of a button on my phone, the flashlight illuminated the space. I hunched down and moved across the ceiling searching for the source of the leak. The wood creaked below me but I kept inching forward. I only got two more steps when the floor beneath me released a low groan. Before I could react, my right leg and then my left went through the ceiling.

Wood and plaster crashed to the hallway floor below. I flung out my arms, stopping my body from following. The hem of my sleeves inched back. A patch of mottled and scarred skin stared back at me. I tried to heave myself up and lost hold of my phone. Around me the remaining wood started to buckle. If I moved another inch, the whole floor would go.

Torran’s words about making the right choices pinged inside my head. She’d been dead on about everything, and I was stupid enough not to listen.

Stretching out my fingers as far as they’d go, I managed to press a contact number on my phone. On the fourth ring, Diego’s voice burst through the line.