Chapter 2
Chapter two
Dakota
The sign to the Mayson Ranch comes into view as the low rumble of the cattle guard sounds below us.
I’m riding shotgun, while Ivy sits in the backseat with her fiancé, Maddox.
They got engaged less than four hours ago, in the middle of the arena at the annual Mayson Ridge Rodeo.
If anyone deserves the fairytale ending its Ivy Mayson.
Her cowboy dropped to a knee, dirt and all, and asked her in front of the entire town, along with the rest of the world to be his wife. It was everything a girl dreams of.
My eyes move over to the driver. My other best friend, Cooper.
He has a wrist draped over the steering wheel, his other arm resting on the console.
Another person that deserves the happy ending.
He deserves the world. But people like me, we don’t get those.
We don’t get the luxury of fate. The white picket fence, two and a half kids, and two matching rocking chairs on a back porch.
As much as it stings, I’ve come to terms with it.
The long gravel drive feels more like home than the ratty old trailer I lived in for the majority of my life.
I can’t count the times I crept down this driveway.
Whether it was in the middle of the afternoon, or the dead of the night.
I could never describe the exact emotion it brought on. Peace? Relief?
We pull up to the farmhouse that’s being completely rebuilt.
A few months ago, a fire took out Cooper’s childhood home, along with some of the pastureland.
It was a financial hit to the ranch, but after it was concluded that foul play was involved by the biggest crook in town, the Mayson’s were able to claim the insurance money and are in the process of rehabilitating this ranch to a better version of itself.
Cooper slams the truck into park and reaches over to silently unclip my seat belt.
I roll my eyes before I begin to sing out loud the lyrics to my favorite song with the futile attempt to drown out the feeling that Cooper Mayson stirs within my hollow chest. I’ve been working on ignoring it for years. I’ve yet to accomplish it.
I pull the latch, jumping down from the truck as we all make our exit. My steps are slightly off balance, the tequila still doing its job.
“Whoa!” Cooper’s tone of voice causes me to end my lyrical ensemble mid chorus. “Who the hell are you?” He growls.
My boots are ambling forward as quick as I can, rounding the hood to see a small figure stalk down the front steps of the unfinished farmhouse.
“I’m looking for Dakota Sterling.” The lanky preteen blows a pink bubble, before she tucks the gum back into her mouth.
Something about her is oddly familiar.
“I’m Dakota Sterling.” I move a fraction, my shoulders tight as I take her in.
Long dark hair.
Big blue eyes.
Just like mine.
“Sweet. I’m Arizona Sterling. Mind if I crash?” She asks casually.
Sterling.
I frown. “Who are you?”
She hikes her black backpack up onto her shoulder. “I figured she didn’t tell you.” She rolls her eyes with a sigh. “Surprise. I’m your little sister.”
I blink, before I dart my eyes to Cooper.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
Damn, this is some strong tequila. I’m pretty sure this kid just said she was my sister.
“I’m your sister,” she repeats. “Bea Sterling is my mother.” She waves a hand. “Well, was.”
Bea. The woman who gave birth to me. Half ass raised me. Then left me.
“What do you mean was?”
“She’s dead,” she replies with a blank expression.
“What?” I croak.
“Yeah. Died three days ago. Overdose.” She glances at her chipped nails. “She hooked up with some biker guy in New Orleans. I think she started back on the hard stuff.”
I blink again, looking around to make sure I’m not hallucinating.
“How old are you?” Cooper is the one to ask as he moves to stand next to me.
“I’m twelve.”
Twelve.
My neck feels hot.
“Why…” I take a breath. “Why are you here?”
“She told me if something ever happened to her to go find you. Said I could find you in Mayson Ridge, which by the way is like the most boring place I’ve ever been and I’ve only been here for like six hours.”
Cooper’s palm lands on the small of my back, and I can feel him rubbing light circles. He’s always the calm in the storm. And for some reason, I’m always the hurricane.
“Anyway, I asked around for you, and I was told I could find you here.” She shrugs.
“How did you get here?” I ask. “Where’s your dad?”
How the hell did a twelve year old girl travel alone from New Orleans?
“Took the bus. And as for the dad, never met him.” She crosses her arms.
“Umm,” I start, then look over to Ivy. “So, you have no other family?” I press.
“Nope.” She pops the p, pursing her lips.
“Arizona, you said?” Ivy smiles, doing her thing while I stand frozen in the dirt like an idiot.
“Yeah, but you can call me Ari,” she answers.
“I’m Ivy.” She motions her hand. “This is Maddox, my fiancé. And this is Cooper, my brother.”
“Cool.” She hikes her bag up again. “Not to sound like a brat, but can you point me to where I can sleep? I don’t even mind the floor. Just somewhere dry with AC.”
A swift pang hits my chest. The look in her eyes, the coolness in her tone. She’s got the act down. The mask in place. I would know. I’ve been wearing it for years. But the broken can always recognize the broken and my heart nearly cracks down the middle when I realize what I’m looking at.
A mirror.