Chapter 1
Cloudy days always remind me of my sister, so I guess the weather suits the occasion. I’ve been driving nonstop for two days with no specific destination in mind, just a general direction of what feels the most right.
Right.
Nothing about anything in my life feels right, but maybe that’s what I’m trying to find out here.
Fern’s list weighs heavy in the front pocket of my damp overalls, like a tether keeping me from floating away. It’s a burden and a comfort all the same, one I’ve promised to fulfill, no matter how long it takes.
She should be here for this. She should be holding her ridiculous checklist and navigating us through this spectacular mountain range she was always so obsessed with. She should be driving while I sit with my feet propped on the dash, controlling the playlist.
That’s the way it should be happening, but lung cancer doesn’t care about any of that stuff. It doesn’t care about Fern’s dreams or the countless lists she made to catch them. It doesn’t care about any of our plans—or lack thereof—and it certainly doesn’t care about what any of us wanted. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be lost, somewhere in the mountains of West Virginia, with my twin sister’s ashes riding shotgun in my passenger seat.
It’s awfully poetic in a morbid way that I have to fulfill that damn list by myself, with only my sister’s ghost to guide me. But I can’t help but think Fern’s enjoying watching me try to figure it out, how I’ll manage to accomplish this ridiculous list without her careful planning. How I’ll Ivy my way through it, just like I always do—in the least graceful way possible.
I used to hate how Fern made everything look so easy and seamless while I bulldozed my way through life, leaving a trail of destruction and chaos in my path. But after everything I’ve lost, I can’t seem to make myself care what anyone thinks anymore.
I tighten my sweaty palms around the steering wheel as I maneuver my old Volkswagen Cabriolet around the tight, hairpin turns of the Appalachian Mountains.
I’ve got the legs of my overalls rolled up to my knees as the soppy, wet fabric clings to my skin like glue. So much for my attempt to hike to the waterfall.
I was two miles into the hike when I slipped and fell into the ice-cold stream I was attempting to cross.
Luckily, the stream was shallow enough that my overall pocket stayed dry. I wish I could say the same for my cell phone.
I glance at my phone in the comically large bag of rice, strapped in with a seat belt next to my sister’s urn. It’s not a combo you see every day, and the absurdity of it all gives me an odd sense of peace.
Sure, having a working navigation system would be nice, but there’s nothing I can do about that now, so I might as well enjoy the ride. There are certainly worse places to get lost. At least I’ve got the gorgeous mountain views to distract me, right?
Fun fact about me: I could get lost in my own neighborhood. In fact, I have. I have quite possibly the worst sense of direction ever known to man, so I’m not sure what I was thinking, trying to Lewis-and-Clark my way to the waterfall.
Lesson learned. Mother Nature—1. Ivy—0.
Another fact about me: My life is an absolute mess. After my mother’s little accident that resulted in losing my childhood home in a housefire, she finally agreed to move into the long-term care facility I’d been suggesting for over a year. The depression episodes had become so debilitating that I couldn’t trust to leave her unattended, which didn’t exactly make for the carefree college experience most people my age get to have.
I was barely passing my classes as it was, commuting back and forth multiple times a week to check on her. After she fell asleep with a lit candle and the whole house went up in flames, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I helped move her into the facility, and I dropped out of school the next day.
I cashed out the last bit of my savings—the money I’d worked for every summer since I was fifteen to save and pay for college and whatever happened after that—and booked a one-way plane ticket to Transylvania, just like my sister had always dreamed of. Only I won’t just be visiting. In order to make it work, I had to get creative. One drunken night spent wallowing in my dorm room after my childhood home and all that was left of my sister’s possessions were destroyed, I came across an ad for international hospitality jobs in tourism. A few clicks later, and I was filling out an application to work on-site in Dracula’s Castle. The pay is shit, but dormitories are provided for all staff members who sign a one-year contract.
I’d almost forgotten all about it, but the day my mother moved into her long-term living facility, I received an email that I’d been accepted for the position. I could hardly believe it, but took it as a sign. Fern always dreamed of doing this, and now, I was going to make her dreams come true for the both of us.
So, I signed the contract. Dropped out of school. Booked the flight. And now, I’m here, driving around through the Appalachian Mountains with the only objective of finding somewhere to sprinkle Fern’s ashes and to check off as many items on her list as I can before I start my next adventure in Transylvania next month.
I might be low on cash, but I’ve only got to stretch it for about a month. So what if I have to live out of my car? I love my car, and it’s the only reason I had Minute Rice on hand to save my phone—see, I’m making lemonade here.
It’s getting late and harder to see with only my dim headlights illuminating the road. I try to avoid driving at night because it’s not exactly safe, considering my car’s over twenty years old and seen better days. But surely, I should be getting close to some sort of civilization soon … right? I’ve been driving all day, and I’m so exhausted that everything seems to be running together.
I come around a sharp turn, and I wipe my dry, sleepy eyes when a dark figure appears in the road.
Everything happens so fast.
My heart skips a beat, and my stomach drops as my reflexes take control.
It’s there one second, and then it’s gone.
Only it’s too late.
I grip the steering wheel to brace myself as I slam my foot on the brakes. The smell of burned rubber, the high-pitched shriek of tires. I crank the wheel to the right, and my car rolls off the road and down a hill, narrowly missing a large tree before finally rolling to a stop.
Heart racing in my chest, I cough several times, trying to catch my breath as my airway starts to restrict. Thankfully, I’ve still got an emergency inhaler stowed in my glove box from when Fern first bought this car. She insisted I keep one in here just in case … even though I haven’t had an asthma attack in years.
I take a couple of puffs, feeling my breathing return to normal, and sag against my seat. Even from the grave, my sister’s still watching out for me. That sounds exactly like her.
I don’t know how I’ve managed to survive all on my own these past five years, but I can’t rely on my sister’s forward thinking to save me anymore, no matter how much I wish she would just appear to me and tell me what to do next.
That’s why I’m here.
I tried to do things my way. I even went to college and did all the things I was supposed to do, but no matter how much I pushed myself, I somehow still felt empty. It was like I was walking around with a giant hole in my chest, only feeling things halfway … like the other piece of me was missing.
Maybe I’ll never feel whole without my sister, but I’ve got to try. I’m desperate for something to make me feel alive again, so desperate that I dropped out of school with only one semester left and sold all my belongings—not that there was much left.
I needed a change and figured, What the hell do I have to lose?
So, I packed up the few belongings that could fit in my car, donated everything else, and set out to have an epic adventure with my sister’s list as my only guide.
Maybe not the most responsible idea I’ve ever had, but that’s what desperation will do to a person. Besides, I never claimed to be responsible. That was all Fern. I’m more of the fun, impulsive twin.
And now, it seems I’m getting to deal with the consequences of my own actions.
I twist the key in the ignition, but rather than rumbling to life, there’s a hiss coming from underneath the hood. I try again, and hear a clicking sound, but the car doesn’t start.
“Are you serious right now?” I shout to no one.
With an annoyed huff, I grab the bag of rice containing my phone and step out into the dark, eerie forest.
I narrow my eyes, trying to make sense of where I am. If I can just find the road, maybe I can flag someone down for help.
A bead of sweat drips down my spine, the damp, muggy air not doing me any favors. I tighten my grip on the plastic bag of rice to keep from dropping it as my feet come to a stop.
Was it left or right? I’m so turned around from the car spinning out of control that I don’t know which way I came from. I spin around as if the change of direction will suddenly spark my memory, but it’s no use.
I’m lost.
I suppose I have a fifty-fifty shot of picking the right way, so I might as well get going.
What was that thing in the road anyway? It was huge and gone just as quickly as it had appeared. An eerie feeling creeps up my spine, and I shiver at the thought of it.
Now is not the time to remember Fern’s creepy bedtime stories.
As if on cue, her words play in the back of my mind …
“Whatever you do, don’t look in the trees. If you don’t see them, then you’re safe, but once you see them …”
I dart my eyes down and cup my hand, shielding my eyes as an extra precaution as my heart races and my imagination goes wild.
Just don’t think about it.
They can sense fear.
Stop being scared.
Whatever you do, don’t run.
Stop it, Ivy. This is so stupid.
Monsters aren’t real. Especially the fuckable monsters written about in romance stories.
None of this is real. You’re just freaking yourself out for no reason.
I suck in a calming breath and toss the bag of rice over my shoulder as I continue moving.
It was probably just a bear or something …
Somehow, that thought doesn’t make me feel any better. Because bears are real. Bears can actually kill me.
I pick up my pace, my whole body on high alert as I scan the tops of the tall, dense trees for any hint of light.
There’s a sharp crack in the distance, and I freeze.
I hear what sounds like crunching leaves beneath footsteps… the snap of a twig.
My stomach drops as panic races through my veins.
And then the forest goes completely silent.
I don’t wait to find out why.
“Nope. Nope. Nope.”
All logical thought leaves me as my fight-or-flight response kicks in, and I bolt, putting as much distance between me and whatever might or might not be chasing me, Fern’s warning be damned.
If something really is out there, trying to kill me, I’m at least going to make the fucker work for it.
I sprint as fast as I can, zigzagging through the overgrown, tangled forest to throw whatever’s chasing me off my trail. Hanging limbs and tall weeds smack against my skin as if the forest itself were trying to swallow me whole.
“Wait!” The voice comes out like a whisper in my ear, but I don’t stop as my heart nearly beats out of my chest.
They’ll try to trick you, throwing their voice. Whatever you do, don’t fall for it. It’s a trap.
I cover my ears with my hands, the rice bag slapping me in the face as I run and gasp for air, chest heaving and pulse racing. My muscles scream in pain as I weave through the forest, jumping over tree stumps like hurdles until my foot connects with something hard, and then, I’m falling.
Down. Down. Down.
My body beats against the rocky earth, and I clench the bag of rice to my chest as I take hit after hit. The only solace I have is that the faster I tumble down this hill, the more distance there is between me and whatever’s chasing me.
When I eventually stop tumbling, I let out a groan of pain and roll to my back, staring up at the bright stars shining through the treetops.
It’s a remarkable view. I really wish I weren’t running for my life so I could enjoy it.
Everything hurts, but I think I’m okay; nothing feels broken. I pat myself, checking for injuries, and am relieved to have only suffered some minor cuts and bruises.
My overalls are caked in mud, and there’s a big gash on my knee that’s bleeding. I wince as I push myself to a seated position, brushing the little rocks and dirt off my arms when a shadow figure towers over me.
“Hey, are you?—”
I let out a bloodcurdling scream, then use the only weapon I have available to me. Grabbing a fistful of rice, I hurl it straight at its face.
“Ow, fuck!”
I squint my eyes as the dark figure comes into view, and I realize it’s not a scary monster—at least, it doesn’t look like one—but a man. It’s hard to see him fully, but it looks like he’s wearing a light-blue button-up shirt and black dress pants.
“Is that … rice?” he says as he bends over and wipes at his eyes.
“What do you want from me?” I answer his question with one of my own.
I might be relieved that he isn’t a monster trying to eat me, but that doesn’t mean this guy isn’t going to try to kill me either. I’ve seen enough true crime documentaries to know that you don’t just trust every random man who sneaks up on you in the woods at night.
“What are you talking about? I was driving, and I saw your car run off the road. I thought you were hurt, but then you weren’t in your car, so I came looking for you. I called after you, but then you took off running and fell down the hill.” His voice comes out a little breathless, and I realize he must’ve been running to catch up to me.
I tilt my head, considering him. That actually makes sense, and he doesn’t look like a bad guy. He’s clean-shaven, and he looks like he’s showered recently … and he’s wearing a tie. Would a murderer go through the trouble of tying a tie to impress their prey? I wouldn’t think so but …
My endless loop of thoughts comes to a halt when I get a better look at him.
Holy shit, this guy is hot. Dark, wavy hair; strong jaw; big, broad chest, and he’s easily over six feet tall. There’s an expensive-looking gold watch around his wrist, and he’s got his sleeves rolled up over his forearms. His body looks like something out of a Marvel movie, and suddenly, I find myself more curious than afraid.
What the hell? If I’m going to be murdered, at least I’ll enjoy my view.
I hold out my hand, and he pulls me up, steadying me as my legs forget how to stand up properly.
“Whoa, you sure you’re okay? That was a nasty tumble.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” I bend attempting to brush the dirt from my overalls and almost fall over.
He grabs my arm to help stabilize me, and this time, my knees go weak for a different reason entirely. Maybe it’s his cologne?
I take advantage of his close proximity and lean into him, feigning weak knees again, and suck in a long sniff. My eyes nearly roll back in my head in pleasure, and I wonder if he’s wearing one of those pheromone enhancers. Maybe that’s how he captures his victims—by luring them in with his amazing scent?
I don’t have the energy to be suspicious anymore. I’m much more curious anyhow. I sway to the side and bump back into him, and he wraps a hard, muscled arm around me. And there it is again—that tingly feeling shooting straight through me. Weird.
Maybe I need to revisit this little scenario in the future. Who knew being chased through the woods could get me so worked up?
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride to town. My car’s just over here.”
He leads me back up the hill—the very one I just tumbled down—and we’re both out of breath by the time we reach the top.
There’s a small two-door black car parked on the side of the road, and I follow him on shaky legs.
He opens the passenger door and motions for me to get in. “Uh, you dropped this,” he says as he hands me the heavy, tattered bag before closing the door.
I can’t imagine what he must be thinking right now … and yet he’s still helping me.
His door closes with a thwack. “So, where are you headed?”
My eyes drift over his face, and he’s even handsomer than I realized. His sharp jaw is clenched, like he’s trying to keep from saying something.
“Do you do this often? Chase down women in the woods and convince them to go home with you, I mean. Or am I just lucky?” It’s hardly an appropriate time to flirt with the guy, but the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Maybe I hit my head harder than I realized.
He clears his throat, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “I, uh … that’s not what?—”
Oh my God, is he nervous? That’s actually adorable.
“I’m just fucking with you.”
I place my hand on his forearm, and his body goes stiff, like I frightened him. When I pull away, his shoulders sag in relief. Interesting. I can’t tell if he’s afraid of me … or disgusted.
I look down at my tattered overalls, caked in dirt and blood. I don’t even want to think about what my hair looks like, much less my face.
He clears his throat again, breaking the silence. “So, what’s with the rice?”
“Oh, I accidentally dropped my phone in a stream earlier when I was trying to hike to the waterfall,” I say with a shrug.
A flash of confusion crosses his face. “And you were walking in the woods at night without a working phone because …”
“An animal or something—it was big, whatever it was—ran in front of me. I ran off the road to avoid it.” I gesture behind us with my thumb. “Way back there. I don’t know where because I sort of got turned around when I freaked out and started running. I was walking to find a pay phone or somewhere I could make a phone call.” I shrug again, not knowing how much this stranger really wants to know.
His lips press together in a flat line, and his jaw tics again, like he’s holding back from saying what he really wants to say. But then he surprises me. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? You’d have been better off waiting for someone to pass by than walk through Phantom’s Reach alone at night.”
It’s not his words but his tone that’s laced with annoyance that has me taken aback. I won’t be lectured by a complete stranger—handsome or not.
“How was I supposed to know how far away the next town was?” I pull my legs up, crisscrossing them, and I swear I see him give me the side-eye.
This prick thinks he’s better than me.
“Because you didn’t have a phone,” he answers, and I roll my eyes. “What do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped?—”
“Statistically, or is this a creative exercise? Because, truly, I think the possibilities are endless. I could’ve broken my neck falling down the hill, or knocked myself unconscious at the very least?—”
“You know what I meant?—”
I pretend I didn’t hear him. “Or a bear could’ve eaten me while I was unconscious, or I could’ve stumbled upon a pack of wolves?—”
“All right, all right. Enough with the sarcasm. You’ve made your point.”
The muscle in his jaw twitches, and that little involuntary response fills me with a deep satisfaction that I should definitely speak to a therapist about.
“Why do you care so much? It’s not like you know me,” I say, suddenly feeling curious.
This guy doesn’t seem to be the least bit charmed by me; in fact, he seems annoyed to have to deal with me at all. So, why stop to help me?
“I care because you’re … you’re a young woman, walking around a notoriously dangerous area at night … alone … looking like that.” He nods in my direction.
“Ew. Don’t call me a young woman.” My lip curls in disgust. “And what do you mean, looking like that? What’s wrong with how I look?”
“You know exactly what I mean by that,” he scoffs. “You’re not even wearing a shirt.”
I look down at my cropped tank beneath my overalls. Is this guy serious? “It’s a crop top, and with the overalls covering the middle, it’s barely noticeable.” I narrow my eyes. “Unless you’re a perv. Is that what this is about?”
“What? No. That’s, like, the opposite of what I meant.” He scrubs a hand down his face in frustration, then turns to look at me. “I’m the one who’s helping you?—”
“And judging me,” I add. “What do my clothes have to do with anything?”
“God, you’re irritating,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m just saying, it’s not the smartest thing for a”—he pauses, as if to consider his phrasing—“female to be wandering around the woods alone at night.”
I blow out a breath and fold my arms back over my chest. “Well, thank you.”
“Thank you? Thank you for what?”
“Clearly, you find me attractive, though you have a really odd way of showing it, and I am choosing to accept your judgmental comments as a compliment,” I say as I prop my feet up on the dash.
They barely make contact before he swipes them down. “Don’t do that. It’s dangerous.”
Interesting. Not the reaction I was expecting.
He lifts the center console, pulling out a bottle of medication, and tosses a couple back. “Do you have any idea where you left your car?”
I just look at him because I think we both know the answer to that question.
He lets out a frustrated sigh and massages his temples. “Of course you don’t know where it is.”
“Because I’m so irresponsible,” I say in a deep voice, mimicking him.
He rolls his eyes, but his voice comes out surprisingly calm. “Look, it’s getting late. I think it’s safer to look for your car in the morning. Are you hungry? Do you need somewhere to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Yes what?” he huffs. “I asked you two different questions.”
“And the answer to both of them is yes.”
“You’re really annoying—do you know that?”
“So I’ve been told … mostly by old people though.” I have to bite my cheek to hold back my grin as I watch his face fight to hide a scowl. I don’t miss the way his hands tighten around the steering wheel, and I know I struck a nerve.
Serves him right. I hope he thinks twice before pointing out the truth to complete strangers again.
Thirty minutes later, I’m happily chomping down on my Taco Bell peace offering—I even splurged and got nacho fries since it was his treat.
He pulls into a parking spot in front of a sign that simply reads Inn. After a quick glance I notice the business next to it says Bakery… and then Restaurant catches my attention.
Before I can ask if this place is real or if he’s brought me to a movie set, he’s handing me a wad of cash. “Make sure to ask for a room upstairs. Sometimes, old man Melvin sleepwalks, and he’s been known to be somewhat of a surprise snuggler.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand and continues, “Auto Shop is just off the square. It’s an easy walk, but they won’t really open until nine even though the sign says eight. You might want to wait until ten just to be safe. Dan can take you to get your car in the morning and get you all fixed up.” He bites the inside of his cheek, then points to the bag of rice in my lap. “There’s enough cash here to replace your phone and put you up for the night. Market’s a few blocks away, but you can probably ask Dan to make a pit stop on the way to get your car. He loves shit like that.” He snaps his lips closed, signifying he’s done.
“Oh, well, thank you …” I pause for him to tell me his name.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll never see each other again anyway.”
“Right. Well, I guess I’ll be going then.” I flip through the wad of cash, and my eyes go wide. “Are you sure about this? You gave me, like, five hundred dollars.”
He pushes the cash back toward me. “It’s no big deal. Maybe invest in a waterproof phone case next time.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it.” I look down as I shove the cash in my overall pocket. “What are you, a millionaire or something?”
“Or something,” he says, and when I look back up, he’s staring at me with a look I don’t quite recognize.
Concern? Worry? Regret?
“Please take care of yourself. No more wandering around in the woods at night alone, okay?”
My head nods on its own. “Yeah, um … I’m Ivy, by the way. Ivy Lane. Thanks for your help tonight.”