Page 32 of Meet Me in Ivy Falls

The way he’d softly asked if I wanted to leave the Sugar Rush, gone out of his way to make me feel comfortable when we sat at the table, proved there was still a spark between us. But I was smart enough to know how it would end.

A tumble with Beck would be glorious. It was very hard to ignore the way he filled out an old pair of Levi’s. The way his day-old scruff had a hint of red in it. It’d been too long since I’d been skin to skin with someone I cared about, but going down that road with him was filled with caution signs I had to obey.

‘What happened between us was long ago. He’s got his shiny life in Nashville, and I’m needed here,’ I said with a little too much force. ‘And didn’t you say at the P&P that I should act like an adult? That’s what I’m doing here. My feelings for him are complete and total ash. Once the job is done, we’ll go our separate ways.’

Tessa pursed her lips but didn’t say another word. I was glad because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could lie to her about all the mixed-up and complicated feelings I had about Beck coming home.

Chapter Fifteen

BECK

A Gray Void In My Head.

I’d tried calling Piper twice but both times it went straight to voicemail. For an hour I paced the floor of my condo, letting my mind go to all the wild places it shouldn’t. When I couldn’t handle all the dark scenarios trolling through my head, I grabbed my keys off the counter.

For the entire forty-five-minute drive to Ivy Falls, I concentrated on how I could carve out time on weekends to come back to the house. The more I thought about the work it would take to get it back to a decent state, the more my mind went to my recent conversation with Manny.

The serious set of his massive shoulders as he swore he’d make me regret screwing up things for them if I stepped a toe out of line. It felt a bit protective. Like he’d do anything to keep Torran safe. An ache built in the center of my chest. I used to be that guy for her, but my choices stripped away that important connection. Now we were just two strangers in an unlikely alliance, which made the pain in my chest flare even more.

After I drove past the town sign, I took the long way around. The old limestone fountain sparkled in the early morning light. Various joggers and small families on bikes moved around the brick-paved square. Colorful flowers draped out of moss-covered hanging baskets hooked to every light pole.

It’d been too long since I’d felt a sweeping kind of peace. Not the kind that reminds you of being a child, but more like a sense of hope that allows you to take a full cleansing breath. Reminding you that life can be simpler if you take the time to appreciate the smaller things like the waft of fresh donuts coating the air, or the sounds of kids playing on the wide lawn in front of the Ivy Falls courthouse.

Once I got to Huckleberry Lane both sides of the street were lined with cars. Happy Birthday balloons billowed from one of the mailboxes. I parked a block away and walked to the house.

Since the walk-through, we’d had new locks installed and Manny and Torran gave me a new key. The front door creaked open with a low moan, and I was reminded once again what a challenge the house would be. Even though we’d cleaned the last time we were here, the place still reeked like week-old garbage. Colorful graffiti tattooed the walls and I couldn’t even imagine how many coats of paint it was going to take to get them back to normal.

I climbed the stairs and stopped. The sound of a scrape echoed through the house. An ooze of uneasiness swept through me. Was Torran right? Should I not be here alone? Who knew what other things might give way beneath my weight or, God forbid, climb out of the walls.

A tree outside the window swayed in the breeze, its branches pressing against the glass. I let out a chuckle before heading to the first bedroom which once belonged to Piper. Long gone was the white wicker furniture and pink wallpaper with unicorns. One entire wall had been painted black with chalkboard paint. The last renters had left behind a long list of swear words that would make a long-haul trucker blush.

I pulled work gloves from the back pocket of my jeans. Beneath me was a sea of what used to be brown shag carpet. I knew Torran wanted to try and restore the original floors. Pulling up carpet seemed like the best place to start. I put on my headphones, cranked up a playlist and went to work.

I’d picked this room on purpose. Once I got Piper here, I’d show her how this could be her safe space. A spot to relax and figure out the next steps of her life. Sure, she’d said too many times to count how New York was her home now, but the defeat in her voice was clear every time we talked. The carousel of audition rejections was obviously wearing her down.

She could find creative outlets here if she tried. Ivy Falls had a local theater, and between the fashion scene and the budding array of new restaurants popping up in Nashville, there were ample opportunities for her to work. It’d been coined ‘Nashvegas’ for a reason.

For over a half-hour, I tugged and pulled at the carpet. The ragged and sharp edges of it bit through the cheap gloves I’d bought at Hendrix’s hardware store. A sea of dust and dirt spit up into the air as I worked piece by piece. Sweat beaded my hairline and ran down the side of my face. I’d opened a window but the late spring heat still managed to make the room feel like a sauna. I should have worn short sleeves but my scars had been aching a lot lately and I did not want a constant reminder of them while I worked.

The scars were just one more reason why I wanted Piper here. After our parents’ accident, things became a blur. I don’t remember the ambulance ride or being airlifted to UCSF Medical Center. Later, I was told I’d been put into a medically induced coma so doctors could treat the burns on my chest, torso and arms.

That time period is a gray void in my head. A series of fractured images, voices and movement that now seem like an old movie that’s spent too long in a vault. The aged images too fuzzy to recognize.

After they reduced my meds and I came out of the coma, I spent many more weeks in the burn unit. There was no real way to describe the pain. I tried to verbalize it once for my grandmother when she asked. I could only tell her to picture having an animal slowly tear the flesh from your limbs but add fire to the sting of the bites. The pain was a thousand times worse than that, but it put enough of a picture in her head that all she could do was wrap a bony hand around my fingers and quietly sob.

It was the same thing with Piper. When she’d visit me at the rehab hospital, she could only stay for a minute or two at first, not being able to handle my screams as physical therapists stretched out my arms, forced me to bend my back. But she kept returning, eventually helping me when I needed to use stability balls or work with a foam roller. In those excruciating months, she’d held my hand. Stared at me with fiery eyes and told me to work harder, to focus on getting better.

I was so immersed in my own recuperation that I didn’t see her falling apart. One of just many ways I’d failed her over the years.

My muscles ached as I rolled the grimy old carpet into thick cylinders. Once I had half the room completed, I went to grab the water bottle I’d left downstairs.

In the hallway the hole in the ceiling mocked me. I stepped toward the stairs, the childhood memories coming back in a thick wave. Piper and I chasing each other with Nerf guns. The sound of the music our parents loved: Supertramp and Fleetwood Mac, floating in the air. How my mother loved experimental Italian cooking, our house always smelling like a mix of oregano and minced garlic.

When Diego first contacted me, he explained how the auction worked. That anyone could buy the houses on his list. What they did with the homes after was up to the buyer. He’d said the town council had discussed rezoning the area to be multipurpose use which meant it could be bought by a developer and knocked down or turned into some kind of business. Torran’s words about the town losing its heritage rang in my ears. This may have started as a plan to save my own history, but it felt good to know that the work done here was about something bigger than me trying to recapture my own past. It didn’t hurt that it also gave me an excuse to see Torran regularly. To slowly try and rebuild what I’d broken years ago.

As I gazed at the paint-splashed walls, I considered all the things Torran and Manny had said about the house. The way he could restore the beautiful banister. How she wanted to resurface the original cabinets. All the things my parents would have loved. My throat went prickly dry. I tugged off my gloves, blisters already forming on my fingertips, and headed back to the stairs intent on finding my water bottle.

Barely down the first few steps, a small creak came from the master bedroom. I went still. Waited. It had to be the house settling. After another beat, the distinct sound of footsteps made me go cold. I wasn’t here alone.