Page 53 of Tangled in Vines

“Yes,” I replied. “Word for word. I take Victor had such a dog then.”

“Well, yeah, I had heard that he had a dog that was blind but could find the barest trail of a rabbit or a wild pig and track down lost cattle,” Ethan replied, but then his gaze dimmed. “It…it could be a coincidence, Mia. Those times, hunting was a way of life, and many people had bloodhounds to sniff our rabbits or birds or whatnot.”

“I understand, but it could be him, right? I mean, she is stressing how they cannot interact with each other in the daytime,” I replied. “Tell me if that doesn’t fit our families. You said they would be well, tarred, and feathered if they even crossed another’s path.”

He sat his tray down and drew his feet up while rubbing his face. “I’m not saying it can’t be, but…let’s not go jumping the gun on this one, okay.”

Closing the book, I turned to him. “Is it really that hard for you to think that back in the day, two of our family members could have had love, even a connection? I mean, it’s basically what we’re doing here.”

Ethan rubbed his knuckles down his cheek. “Is it but…”

Now, I was getting deeply concerned and shuffled over to his side. “What is it, Ethan, talk to me. What’s got you so worried and tied up in knots?”

He dropped his arms over his knees and stared at me. “I know I said I wanted us to break this rivalry, Mia… but what if it doesn’t work?”

Something wasn’t right. This was not Ethan—I had never seen him double-guessing himself…ever. Where was this coming from? I straddled him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“What do you mean? Do you think they’re going to stop us from making peace…or is that you don’t think anyone will accept our relationship?” I asked,

He shrugged. “Both?”

I considered what to say. “You remember when you would walk around high school with that stone face on? No one knew what was going through your head. You were Mr. Stoic. You never let anyone know if you are afraid, panicky, frustrated, or even tired.”

His brows furrowed. “Okay…” he dragged the word out. “…why are you telling me this?”

I reached up and used two fingers to smooth out the thick knot in his brows. “You’re showing me emotion. I’m honored.”

He snorted. “Dork.”

“We’ll find a way to make this peace between our families, even if we have to force our dads to see the truth of it,” I replied, “It’ll be fine.”

His left brow lifted. “You can see in the future now?”

“Ugh,” I huffed. “Has anyone told you how aggravating you are?”

“Yes, many times,” he deadpanned.

Rolling my eyes, I slipped off his lap and got to my place, took up my tray, and nudged Ethan. “Turn on that massive TV of yours and get Netflix on.”

“And what are we watching?” he asked, getting to his feet and snagging the remote from the all-black entertainment center.

“The Notebook,” I told him.

“Get out,” Ethan glared, but his lips were twitching.

“Turn on the TV, lover boy, and shut it,” I replied.

ChapterEighteen

Ethan

The very next day, after the night with Mia, I was on the road driving to my parent's cabin up in the hills. It was time Dad, Mom, and I had a straight, no-bullshit talk. Dad was paramount to a historian; if he did know about Victor and Sarah, was he so deep in trenches of spite and revenge with the Sullivans that he would not even tell me?

The winding roads up the hills were empty—as they almost always were—and the surroundings were so peaceful and serene. I could understand why they came up here every wintertime, to get away from it all.

The interlocking branches overhead dappled the path in spots of sunlight and shadow. That was what my life felt like: spots of light—this thing with Mia, but surrounded by shadow, the secrets that our families kept from us.

Mom and Dad’s cabin stretched the meaning of the word; how do you call a three-story house with solar panels, high-speed Wi-Fi, and automatic gates a cabin? Granted, it had a working chimney, was made of all gleaming wood, and had a wrap-around porch, so I supposed it could be defined as one.

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