1. Chapter 1
Chapter one
Ivy
Present day
The parking lot to Simpson Memorial Hospital is eerie at this time of night. Nothing but a few random birds and a doctor in a white lab coat taking a smoke break. Ironic. My swift steps carry me across the pavement, my nerves curled tight in the pit of my stomach. Exactly sixteen hours ago I received at text from my brother, Cooper.
You need to come home.
I stared at the words, debating on whether to ignore what I assumed was just another attempt to get me back to Texas, but the following text had my world shifting on its axis.
There was a fire. Dad is in the hospital.
Dread had almost swallowed me whole, but instead of surrendering to the what if's , I shoved aside all of the reasons why I left Mayson Ridge four years ago. I shoved them far enough away to manage to pack a bag, jump in my car, and hit the road without a deep dive into what shitstorm would be waiting for me.
The drive was long, exhausting, and my hands were sore from gripping the steering wheel for hours on end. I had my reasons for leaving, and honestly, I didn’t have any plans to return any time soon. So, my sudden reappearance will not only be unexpected, but I’m sure will stir up the gossip mill of our small town.
The sliding glass doors open automatically, creating a breeze that dances through my hair that I didn’t even bother brushing. Stepping up to the front counter, my heart thuds wildly, matching the rhythm of a stampede of mustangs like the ones I watched in awe the last time I visited Wyoming.
“Emmett Mayson,” I ask.
The grey-haired receptionist doesn’t even glance up, her fingers moving furiously over the keyboard in front of her.
“Third floor. Room 316.”
Her phone rings, and she answers, still completely ignoring my presence.
I mutter a brief “thank you” before I’m striding to the elevator and pressing the button to the third floor.
The yellow number indicating my arrival causes my eyes to close. Four years. I hadn’t been in the same room, let alone the same state as my family in almost four years. There were weekly phone calls, but visits were nonexistent. Mostly excuses from me and frustration from them. When the door opens, I step out into the waiting room, my eyes sliding over the handful of people that are hunkered down in uncomfortable chairs waiting for news on their loved ones.
My gaze lands on a mop of sandy brown hair that’s tilted back against the wall. His jeans are stained, with what appears to be mud and soot, which also covers his boots and his cowboy hat that’s resting on his knee.
My throat tightens as I take measured steps over to my brother.
“Coop,” I croak.
His eyes peel open, exhaustion and worry residing in the blue hue that matches our mother’s.
“Ivy.” He leans up, pushing to his feet. “You came.”
I nod, tears stinging my eyes as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me in for a hug. He smells like smoke, the musk almost causing me to cough before he pulls away. “He’s alright. Smoke inhalation, a concussion, and some minor burns. But he’s alive.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “What happened?”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure exactly. The back four pastures caught fire, along with the big house.”
The big house
Our childhood home. The one that holds all the memories. The stories. The secrets.
“Is it….” I trail off.
The look in his eyes tell me what I don’t want to hear.
“It’s gone, Ives," he says hoarsely.
“Where’s mom?” I ask, my hands clinging to the strap on my purse.
“She’s in the room with dad. She wasn’t home. Thank God.” He motions. “You want to see him?”
Do I? No. Not really. Not yet. I haven’t looked into his eyes in years. It was too hard. But this was serious. He was hurt. And still my father.
“Yeah. I’d like to see him,” I finally answer, my voice quiet.
He nods, and wraps an arm around my shoulder, guiding me toward the hall. Just as we round the corner, a tall body meets us head on. I halt my steps, letting the angry eyes of my oldest brother slice right through my heart.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, his words harsh causing me to almost wince.
“I asked her to be here," Cooper interjects.
“Ryder…” I begin but he cuts me off.
“Is this what it takes for you to come home? A fucking tragedy?” He grits out.
My cheeks flame, my pulse racing. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” He scoffs. “What’s not fair is you abandoning your family.”
“I never abandoned anyone,” I snap.
But didn’t you, Ivy?
“Bullshit," he barks.
His thunderous voice bounces off of the empty walls of the hallway, earning us a warning glare from the charge nurse.
“This isn’t the place, Ryder.” Cooper maneuvers me ahead of him. “Cool off. It’s been a long day and this ain’t helping.”
With that we brush past him, walking silently to the end of the hallway.
“It’s here.” Cooper presses the silver lever, opening the door to a small dim room.
Entering with lead feet, I walk slowly until I’m standing next to the aging man lying in the hospital bed. His eyes are closed while an oxygen mask is strapped over his face. It's paired with a white bandage around his head. The sounds of the monitors give off a steady beat as Wheel of Fortune plays softly in the background from the tv that’s mounted on the wall. It hurts. Seeing him like this.
A toilet flushes and the door to the bathroom opens before the best person I’ve ever known joins me.
My mother.
When her eyes land on me, she sucks in a sharp breath, and her voice cracks.
“Ivy.”
“Hey mama.” My words are just as shredded as hers, and it’s even more evident in this moment that those four years of absence had done nothing to ease the guilt I took along with me. The guilt I was hoping I could bury somewhere else.