Page 77 of Undeniable

TWENTY-SEVEN

Ivy

Thirteen Years Ago

I went to college.I played volleyball. I made a few new friends. The girls on my team were nice, and so were my coaches. Practices were consistently brutal, but I enjoyed it all. My classes were relatively easy, although getting used to a college class schedule was more difficult than I realized it would be. And I wasn’t as miserable in Wisconsin as I thought I would be.

Except I missed James.

We’d agreed before he left that we were going to focus on school. We both wanted to get settled in our new lives instead of worrying about the one back in Willowwood.

He’d sent me a few pictures of his dorm room and I’d done the same. He responded with a joke about my new floral comforter and then sent me a picture of him wearing my necklace.

But all of those texts were weeks before and I hadn’t heard from him since. And I refused to be the annoying, clinging summer fling that refused to take a hint.

I hoped it wouldn’t happen, but the logical side of me knew it would—the texts and the phone calls would become fewer and further between until they stopped altogether. Even if I knew it would happen, it was something else entirely to actually experience it. There was no preparation for James to completely vacate my life.

I tried not to let it stop me from enjoying the beginning of college. Shelby and I’d gone to parties and explored the town. Being athletes meant we had a fixed, regimented schedule that we had to maintain, but that didn’t keep us from having fun. We probably had too much fun in the month and a half since we’d arrived in Wisconsin.

Yet, I still looked forward to my birthday.

It was ridiculous, and I would have never admitted it out loud, but the best gift I could’ve received was seeing James.

And I was losing hope.

I hadn’t slept the two nights leading up to my flight into the city that morning, but I wasn’t tired. I was hopped up on adrenaline, knowing that it would only be a few hours until I saw him again. Even Mom said something about how excited I seemed when she picked me up bright and early that morning.

When we got back to the house nearly two hours later, the party preparations were in full swing. It was technically a joint birthday party for me, Forrest, and my dad, but it washisfiftieth birthday.

Forrest and I both agreed that nineteen didn’t feel too different from eighteen, and it was more important that our dad had his day.

I was on high alert when everyone began to arrive that afternoon. If I wasn’t watching the driveway, I was constantly checking my phone.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Forrest asked, a cup in his hand that was definitely not filled with soda. His words slurred and his balance was iffy as he leaned against the porch railing.

There was a huge tent set up in our front yard, covering at least a dozen folding tables, most of which were occupied by our friends and family. If I had to guess, more than half the town came to celebrate my dad, and he was living it up in the middle of the crowd.

I, however, was keen on staying in the wings. But even far from the chaos, my brother still found me.

The later it got and the further the sun set, the more my entire demeanor changed and my hope deflated. So I kept to the outskirts of the party—I didn’t want to have to pretend around everyone that I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate.

“Does Mom know what’s in your cup?”

I eyed the red plastic cup, and he jerked away. “That”—he poked my shoulder—“is none of your beeeeeeswax.”

God, he was drunk.

“Leave me alone, Forrest.”

“Come on, little sis.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “It’s our birthday.”

“I don’t feel like celebrating right now.”

He groaned and threw his free hand up. “You know what? I’m just going to say it. I don’t think he’s coming.”

I’d stood and begun to walk away when he threw out that bomb. I whirled on him and he staggered back a step.

“What?” I asked.

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