Page 4 of Every Single Vow
“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.
Chapter three
Cooper
I can tell by the look of pure shock on Dakota’s face that she had no idea Arizona existed. She hadn’t even heard from, nor seen Bea since she left one night when Dakota was eight. Justpoof. Gone.
“Sure.” I clear my throat, tilting my head to Ivy to let her know I’ll need her help. “Let’s get you inside and we can sort all of this out in the morning.” I smile, hoping she isn’t weirded out by a strange man offering her a place to sleep.
“Thanks.” It’s barely there, but I can see the slight relief in her frail shoulders.
She looks so much like Dakota did at that age it’s uncanny. Everything except their frame. Where Dakota is tall, all long legs, this girl is on the shorter side. But the eyes and hair are a spitting image.
Reminds me of why I call DakotaBirdie.That’s what she reminded me of that day at the gas station. Big blue eyes. Skinny and frail. Jet black hair.
“Of course,” Dakota shrills before turning to face me with wide eyes.
“You can stay in the guest room,” I offer before pointing toward the new cabin I had built after the fire.
