Chasing Ivy (Oak Hill 1)

I bit the inside of my cheek. Mia didn’t know much about Dawson and I, and I supposed that now would be a good time to fill her in. She was an adult, so that awkward “I’m kind of trying to be your mom,” thing didn’t really apply any longer. We’d talked about guys before, and sex – and although our relationship in the past was mostly me

trying to be a good guardian for her, attempting to make up for the shitty hand we’d been dealt, we’d grown out of that phase and now were more like best friends.

So for the next twenty minutes, I told Mia everything. From the kiss Dawson and I shared, many moons ago, all the way to our last encounter at the bar. She didn’t seem surprised, which unnerved me. Maybe I wasn’t quite as good at hiding my feelings as I thought.

“So, like… did he build that house for you? Was that his truck?”

I breathed out a bundle of air while unstrapping my heels. I wiggled my toes once they were free and placed them back down on the cool concrete. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“I bet he did.”

I scoffed. “Doubt it. He basically hated me for leaving without saying goodbye. He didn’t really understand the situation until a few weeks ago, and I highly doubt he built it in that time.”

Mia’s dark eyes met mine and they twinkled, as if she knew something I didn’t.

“Are you going to ask him?” she asked.

I shrugged, scanning all the pretty bronze and crimson leaves littering the ground below us.

“Maybe, if I ever get a chance. I don’t think we’ll be speaking much anymore.”

Even as I said it, I could feel my heart deflating.

My sister snickered. “Okkkkayy.”

“What?”

She only shook out her brown, honey-colored hair. “Nothing.” Then she paused, clasping her hands together in her lap. “I miss them still, ya know?”

A small amount of pain slithered around my heart. “I do, too. Everyday. It’s been six years but somehow, one little reminder makes it seem like yesterday.”

Mia nodded her head, looking out at the desolate street. I studied her profile, the way her button nose turned up slightly and the way her long, pretty eyelashes curled upward, making her eyes appear even brighter. Even though Mia and I shared the same pain of losing our parents, I still felt even worse for her.

I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the motherly instinct that I took over the second my parents passed away, or maybe I’d just grown to recognize someone else’s pain before mine, but it made me feel empty and lost.

Like I was back to being that scared fifteen-year-old, with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Alone.

Mia turned her head to mine, locked onto my eyes, and let out a small sigh. “Enough of this sad shit, I’m starving.”

I laughed. Mia had always been one to use food as a buffer. Food makes everything better, she’d always say. I mean, she wasn’t wrong.

“Mia Marie, when was the last time you had a decent meal?”

She rolled her eyes, her normal smile creeping back along her face. “I’m in college… my meals consist of snack cakes and copious amounts of coffee.”

I groaned. “Well come on, I’ll make you a hearty meal.”

She snickered. “I can’t remember you ever making a hearty meal that wasn’t boxed mashed potatoes and canned vegetables. Please tell me you remember when you tried to make Uncle Timothy and I a meatloaf one night…” she snickered again, which really just turned into a fit of laughter.

I couldn’t help but laugh along with her and it felt nice. It felt nice to laugh after being in such a strange and unnerving situation – one that I was going to try and forget. Although, I had no idea how I was going to forget that there was a replica of my old house down the street, and the person living in it was someone who wouldn’t leave my brain, no matter what I did. No amount of Ben and Jerry’s could take the sting out of Dawson’s words…not even when accompanied with a massive stomachache.

I swiftly got to my feet and opened the front door with Mia still laughing and going on about how my meatloaf tasted like feet, and then that’s when I heard it.

It sounded like a waterfall.

My first thought was, did I leave the faucet on? Which didn’t make any sense because even if I had, the men who were over at the house taking a few last-minute measurements of the pipes (according to the voicemail I’d received earlier from Mr. Lanning) would have turned it off.