Ivy had Ham on a leash at her side, and she didn’t know what was more exciting: feeling like she had a pet for the first time in her life, or that she was walking along Lake Tahoe and she’d never felt so happy.
Well, except for her secret, which got heavier to carry every single day.
On the bright side, the weather had done a 180 from her first week here. The sun was out, high and bright at their altitude of 6,100 feet. The air warmed her skin, and the water, a color of blue she hadn’t even known existed, warmed her soul. So did the 360-degree view of the neck-craning Sierras dotted with granite and pines.
One time a step-grandma had taken her to church, a huge, beautiful stone building where they’d sung songs, and she’d loved it. And this . . . being here felt like that day in church. Reverent. Awe-inspiring. She just felt so . . . lucky—a very new feeling for her. That night she’d tried to sneak into the bakery building felt like a year ago. She’d been desperate for a safe place to sleep—or at least as safe as she could get. She’d figured she’d sleep the best she could while gathering enough courage to follow plan A—getting a new life.
Step One had been checking out Sunrise Cove and getting a lay of the land. She’d always heard Tahoe could be the coldest place in the country, winter or summer, but she’d never believed it. Not until that night, when she’d nearly frozen her toes off—in July.
Being from Chicago, she was plenty used to cold, but not at this time of year. That night she’d been a frozen Popsicle, regretting not taking the offer of a free jacket from Bartender Dude.
Aka Bodie Campbell.
Aka . . . Sperm Donor.
That was what she called him in her head, the father who’d never once paid child support to her mom, not even a single penny. But Ivy wanted those pennies, all of them. After all, they should’ve come to her over the past sixteen years. But she’d be happy to have them now. The money would fund her new life. On her own.
Which brought her to Step Two of her plan: march up to him and say, “I’m your daughter, and you owe me sixteen years of child support.”
But she’d hit a problem: she’d chickened out. Mostly because Sperm Donor had surprised her by being kind and nothing like her mom had always said. Which meant that now she didn’t know what to believe. And because of that, she felt more than a little lost.
Ivy knew she was smart. But so was Sperm Donor. He was watchful and careful. So she had to be more watchful and more careful. She couldn’t risk him finding her out before she’d decided what to do. She didn’t want to get caught unaware and vulnerable.
Two things she didn’t have the luxury of being.
But she still hadn’t decided how to tell him who she was, because how did one even broach the subject? Hey, thanks for all the fries, and oh, by the way, sixteen years ago you got my mom pregnant. Surprise, it was a girl!
The thing was, she’d been here for ten days now and she hadn’t said a word. She told herself it was because it’d been busy. Harper’s stuff had all arrived, including a futon bed for the office—which was now Ivy’s to sleep on. Sperm Donor and Sperm Donor’s brothers had unloaded everything, and she and Harper had been working on setting up for business.
Last night, Harper had started baking.
And baking.
And she’d let Ivy help, which she’d loved.
Then Harper had decided to have a tasting party with the guys, Shay, her scary abuela, and Ivy. Cookies, cupcakes, croissants, breads . . . it’d all been amazing. Even Shay’s abuela had loved everything. And today, Harper had what she’d called a “soft opening,” which meant they were open to foot traffic for takeout only.
And people were actually buying stuff. Ivy realized the new feeling in her chest was pride. Harper was teaching Ivy baking basics, and she felt like she’d died and gone to heaven. No one had ever taken the time to teach her something like that, but also . . . spending time with Harper made her feel good about herself. She had responsibilities, and go figure, those made her feel good too. She cleaned. She helped at the front counter when needed. And she babysat Ham—hence this walk. After Ham had eaten a fresh loaf of cinnamon bread, Harper had asked her to take an overly “exuberant” Ham for a very, very long walk.
Her days felt full of purpose, also new, and also great. Sometimes she slipped into Olde Tahoe Tap just to steal glimpses of Sperm Donor, who’d continued to be kind. A part of her, a big part, kept reminding herself not to fall for it. It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. And anyway, if he had any idea who she was, that kindness would certainly change. But she was actually smiling while thinking about life here, and she was not a smiler. In fact, her mom said she’d been born with a scowl on her face.
She couldn’t explain even to herself why she hadn’t confronted her birth father yet. Or why she hadn’t gone with plan B, put into place in case he turned out to be a complete asswipe—of simply stealing what was rightfully hers.
Sometimes late at night, when she knew Harper was sleeping, she told herself to get up and go, that there was nothing for her here. She clearly didn’t have the guts required for either plan.
And yet here she still was.
She could ask herself why all day long, but the truth was, she knew why. It was that secret, desperate need she had to belong somewhere and to someone. Pathetic. She’d had no idea how deep it went until she’d seen Sperm Donor and her uncles talking and laughing. But it was her truth—she had a terrible longing for that same sense of connection, even though she knew she lacked whatever that thing was that allowed people to love and want her. This depressing thought had her tripping over her own two feet, and Ham gently nudged her thigh with his wet nose, reminding her to be careful.
And he was right. She needed to be much more careful. Not with her feet, but with her heart. The plan she’d made as she’d crossed the country had seemed so much simpler before she’d gotten here. But she knew these people now. She liked them. And she wasn’t sure how to confront or steal from someone she liked.
But if she didn’t do plan A or plan B, her only option would be to go home.
Which was no option at all.
She wanted a new life. She needed a new life. And while a little part of her wished this could be it, she knew it couldn’t. She was a stray dog, a nearly full-grown one, not a cute puppy who’d be easily adopted.
Her feet stopped her in front of the secondhand store she liked, the one that had a cute window display. Maybe Harper didn’t do lists anymore, but Ivy, who’d never made a list in her life, had started one. A mental list of people she owed, and Harper was at the top. She’d shared her personal space with Ivy. She’d shared her dog with Ivy. She’d shared her clothes with Ivy, and as a matter of fact, Ivy was currently wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, both Harper’s, both a size too big for her, but they were warm and comfy.
She wanted to do something to make Harper feel special, the way Harper made Ivy feel.
The wall behind the store’s display was completely covered in magnets. And something Harper had said when they’d cleaned out the bakery’s huge refrigerator stuck in her mind. Her boss had stared at the fridge for a long moment, then had softly said, “My mom always covered ours with magnets from top to bottom. I wish my dad had kept them so I could have them in my shop.”
Ivy’s pockets held some cash. Harper had done what she’d said she would, paying Ivy for her hours. She looked down at Ham, then at the huge water bowl next to the store’s door, which she’d learned was a sign that dogs were welcome inside. The most amazing thing she’d discovered about Tahoe was that dogs were welcome almost anywhere. So she and Ham entered.
There was a customer inside, a guy who took his concentration off a rack of T-shirts for sale to stare at Ivy and Ham for a solid thirty seconds.
Ivy started to turn to go before he could give her shit or something, but then he pulled a chihuahua out of his sweatshirt.
“I didn’t know we could have dogs in here,” he said simply.
Ivy was so relieved she giggled. She hated to giggle. But the chihuahua was super cute and Ham wanted to be BFFs, which meant he wanted to lick him to death, so she dragged him to the back wall, where she picked out the perfect magnet for Harper.
balanced eating is a cookie in each hand.
After, she and Ham crossed the street and walked through the state park to the beach. Kicking off her beat-up sneaks, she dug her toes into the sand. The top layer was dry and sugary, but she dug down and found the underlayer cool and damp. At the water, Ham whined to be free to swim, so she unhooked him from his leash. Sure enough, he raced into the water and bounced through it like a bunny. A hundred-pound-plus bunny.
Then suddenly there was another oversize animal in the water with him, a black behemoth that looked like a . . . bear? “Oh crap. Ham! Come!”
But did Ham listen? No. Instead, he pounced on the bear, and they both went under for a second. “Ohmigod, Ham!”
They surfaced, and she nearly collapsed in relief when she realized the bear was a huge dog. Still, she rushed into the water, which hit her knees and had her stopping to suck in a breath. What kind of lake was so icy cold? Before she could go any farther, someone called to her from behind.
“It’s okay, Dakota’s friendly!”
She turned to find a guy around her age, also holding an empty leash. He stood next to a girl who looked very much like him, both tall, lanky-lean to the point of being too thin, dark hair, dark eyes, laughing as the dogs continued to pounce on each other in sheer joy.
Ivy clasped a hand to her heart, which was racing more than any time in recent memory, including the time a few weeks earlier when she’d had to switch buses in Chicago to get to the train station and some weirdo had followed her into the bathroom. She’d escaped out the window and had sat near some exhausted-looking dad with six kids, who hadn’t even noticed her pretending to be the seventh.
She was rustled from that memory when the guy on the beach whistled sharply and both dogs came running out of the water.
“Watch out!” the guy warned, but Ivy didn’t move in time to escape both Ham and Dakota shaking off what felt like a thousand gallons of lake water . . . all over her.
She scrunched her eyes tight during the dousing but opened them to find both dogs sitting politely, panting happily up at the guy, who pulled something from his pocket and gave it to them.
“Treats,” he said with an easy smile tossed Ivy’s way. “It’s the only way to control Dakota. You okay?”
“Yes. You’re . . . siblings,” Ivy said inanely.
“Twins,” the girl said. “Jessie and James.” She shrugged. “Mom had a sense of humor.”
“I’m Ivy.” She wanted to be friendly, but it was hard to think about anything other than her soaked jeans and sneakers, which were making her shiver. “I should go. It’s a long walk back.”
“Where to?” James asked.
“Sugar Pine Bakery, right next to Olde Tahoe Tap. I work there.” Wow, Pride surge #2. A record for her.
James’s smile faded a little bit. “That’s a long walk. And thanks to us, you’re all wet. We can give you a ride.”
Jessie nodded her agreement.
They walked across the beach toward the parking lot. Well, the humans walked. Ham and Dakota ran like wild banshees. “Please be good,” Ivy called out to Ham. “Remember, the geese are evil. And that if you poop, I’ve gotta—”
Ham stopped short, turned in a circle, and, tail up, hunched his shoulders.
“Clean it up,” she finished on a sigh.
Jessie laughed.
James did too, but also looked sympathetic.
Resigned, Ivy fished a poop bag from her pocket. Once in science class she’d learned that if you could smell something, it meant you had particles of that something in your nose. Not wanting poop particles anywhere near her face, she pulled the neckline of her sweatshirt over her mouth and nose before bending to pick up the mountain of poop. “What the hell are we feeding you?”
Ham panted happily, ran a few more feet away, and damn. Hunched again.
Jessie laughed until James pointed at Dakota, also producing her own mountain of poop.
“It’s your turn,” Jessie told her brother.
“Shit,” James said. “Literally.” He looked at Ivy. “Can I borrow a bag?”
“Borrow? No. Keep? Yes,” she said, knowing Harper wouldn’t mind. “Here.”
Five minutes later they were in the beach parking lot, standing in front of a beat-up, old Subaru. At one point it had probably been green, but it was currently mostly rust.
“Home sweet home,” Jessie said, the words cheerier than her quiet voice.
James gently tugged on a strand of his sister’s hair. “Better than a street corner, right?”
Ivy’s heart squeezed. “How old are you guys?”
“Eighteen,” Jessie said.
James looked at her.
“Fine,” his sister said. “Seventeen.”
“I’ll be seventeen in the winter,” Ivy said quietly.
James unlocked and opened the back hatch.
“Hold on a sec,” he said. The cargo area was packed with stuff—blankets, clothes, etc.—but only half of it. The other half was wide open, and Dakota jumped into it. Ham followed. Ivy took the back seat, which was crowded with more stuff, and shut the door. Then she realized Jessie and James hadn’t gotten in yet. They were outside, arguing in hushed tones that she could still hear.
“What if she tells someone about us?” Jessie asked.
“I don’t think she will.”
“It’s unlike you to trust anyone,” Jessie said. “Why her? It’s a stupid risk—”
“Jess, I promised to take care of you, and I’m doing the best I can. But I have a feeling she’s like us, and she needs a ride. We help people like us, right?”
Jessie looked away.
“Jess.”
“Right. Whatever.” And she stalked away from him and slid behind the wheel, locking the door.
“Hey. Real mature.” James knocked on the driver’s-side window. “Open up.”
His sister shook her head. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”
James rolled his eyes, but apparently he was easygoing, because he simply ambled around the car and slid into the passenger seat before glancing over at Jessie. “Try not to get us another ticket.”
“Wow,” she said. “A girl takes out a parking meter one time and it’s like she’s a bad driver or something.”
A few minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot in front of the bakery.
Ivy got out, and James met her at the back of the Subaru, where he opened the door for Ham to jump down. “What are you off to do?” he asked.
“I’m hungry,” she admitted. “I’ll probably hunt up some food.” She met his gaze. He hadn’t changed his laid-back smile or said anything, so maybe it was her imagination that he seemed hungry too. “You guys want to eat with me?”
“Jess?” he called through the open hatch. “You want to eat something?”
Jessie turned, looking interested for the first time since Ivy had met her. “Always.”
James grinned at Ivy. “We’re in.”
Ivy smiled before realizing she’d just talked herself into a corner. She couldn’t bring them into the bakery and just assume Harper would feed them all. She knew she was welcome to eat anything in the fridge there, Harper had told her that only a zillion times a day, but it wasn’t fair of her to extend that invite to the twins. Not after all Harper had done for Ivy. She didn’t want to be a burden.
She wanted to be self-sufficient.
But that was turning out to be harder than she’d ever imagined. “We could go to Olde Tahoe Tap and order something,” she suggested.
James looked over at the bar and grill, then gave a slow shake of his head. “Thanks, but I just remembered, we’ve got to go.”
They didn’t have money, she realized. They were clearly living out of their car, on their own, and Ivy knew more than anyone how tough it was to survive. And yet still, they’d gone out of their way to give her a ride. “No, I owe you for the ride.”
James looked at her for a long beat, seeming a little uncertain. “We can’t let you do that.”
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Or so she hoped. She wasn’t actually sure the money she had left was enough. She’d earn more, she reminded herself.
Jessie parked in the cool shade and rolled down the windows for Dakota. She’d be okay since the high today was maybe seventy degrees. The rest of them, including Ham, walked to the bar. She told herself she was hungry for French fries and a root beer, but really she was hungriest for another look at Sperm Donor.
She led them to an open table, where Ham immediately plopped underneath for a snooze.
“You sure about this?” Jessie asked quietly. “It’s a really nice place.”
Actually, no, Ivy wasn’t sure. In fact, she was having regrets about offering at all because she was worried Bodie wouldn’t take her money for Jessie’s and James’s meals. She managed a smile. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
She saw Mace busy at the bar and a flash of Bodie just inside the kitchen. A woman on a barstool near her uncle was sobbing her heart out to the woman sitting next to her. Mace set a drink in front of her. “On the house,” he said. “And whoever he is, he isn’t worth it.”
The woman glared at him and yelled, “I’m crying about finishing the best book ever! And now it’s over, you moron!”
Mace blinked and turned to his brother, who was laughing at him. Mace discreetly flipped him the bird, then came over to Ivy’s table. “Hey, sweetheart.”
She’d never had an uncle before. Her mom was an only child, and so was Ivy herself. And he probably called every female “sweetheart,” so why it felt special, she had no idea. “Hey.” She hesitated. “Is it okay if we get some food?”
“Of course.”
Bodie ambled over as well. “I’ve got this,” he said to Mace, tossing Ham a doggy biscuit, which he snatched out of midair from a dead sleep. Bodie then smiled at Ivy. “Hey, Kit Kat. Who’re your friends?”
“Jessie and James.” She warmed inside at the familiar nickname, but she was also starting to feel sick with worry, wishing she hadn’t promised them food.
“Ready to order?” Bodie looked at Ivy first. “Let me guess. For you, a burger, two slices of cheddar, extra pickles, my secret house sauce, and a side of curly fries with Dr Pepper.”
Ivy was speechless. Her mom never remembered what she liked, but he had. “Do you remember everyone’s order?”
“Grandpa here never remembers anything,” Mace said as he walked by with another table’s order.
Bodie ignored this and looked at Jessie and James. “And you two?”
When they both hesitated, Ivy piped up with, “They’ll have what I’m having.”
“Ours to go, please,” Jessie said quietly. “If that’s okay. And thank you.”
To go? They weren’t going to stay and eat? Ivy looked at them, realizing they both looked truly a little uncomfortable. They didn’t think they fit in. Little did they know, she was the same.
When Bodie moved back to the kitchen, James drew a slow, deep breath. “Thank you,” he said quietly, with sincere gratitude.
“Sure.” Her initial hesitation gone, replaced by the warmth in her gut that came from helping them, Ivy tried to make small talk. “So, where are you guys from?”
Jessie bit her lower lip and looked at her brother.
“Albuquerque,” James said.
“I came from Chicago,” she admitted. “Took days to get here. It feels like an old nightmare now.”
Jessie seemed to take her first deep breath, then nodded. “Same, but at least I wasn’t alone.”
James didn’t say much. Didn’t have to. The dark shadows in his eyes told Ivy what she needed to know.
They were all runaways.
Then, as if each of them needed a lighter topic, they talked about Tahoe and what there was to do for fun.
“We try to get whatever odd jobs we can,” James said. “But we like to hang out on the beach. And a friend of ours has a relative who’s got property in Hidden Falls and has parties.” He smiled, and she realized that beyond the easygoing affability lurked something more—worry.
Something else she knew a little bit about.
“You could come with us sometime,” Jessie said.
“Okay,” Ivy said, wondering if she’d still be here when that happened. But she had to admit, it felt good to make new friends. Friends who understood her.
Ten minutes later, Bodie came back with the twins’ food bagged up and a steaming-hot plate for Ivy. When he was gone again, Jessie and James were already on their feet, with James pulling out his wallet.
“No,” Ivy said. “It’s okay.”
James looked at her, and she nodded, hoping she looked confident. “Thank you,” he finally said. “And now we owe you.”
Jessie nodded with a warm smile. “We’ll text you.”
They exchanged numbers, and then they were gone. Ivy ate her food, then pulled her twenty from her pocket. Definitely not enough, but she’d pay the rest back as soon as she could.
A strange thought, considering why she was here.
Just as she set the twenty on the table, Bodie’s hand settled on top of hers, stopping her. She closed her eyes briefly, but when he didn’t speak, she opened them again and looked at him. This was the first time she’d had physical contact with the guy she knew to be her dad, and in that moment, soaking up his face, she saw . . . her own eyes looking back at her. It completely robbed her of thought and the ability to speak.
She really was his. She’d known that, but what she hadn’t realized was that she’d needed to see something of herself in him. Or something of him in her. But she’d just gotten both, leaving her startled, and also unbearably moved and fighting with surprising tears.
“Do you know what it means when I say your money isn’t good here?” he asked patiently. “It means that any time you’re hungry, you come here and eat a hot meal on the house.”
“But not my friends.”
“I don’t mind.”
He didn’t mind? Was he made of money? Her mouth opened, speaking before her brain could catch up. “I’m not a freeloader or a charity case.”
“Never said you were,” he said lightly. “Consider this part of your payment for all the hours you’re working next door, saving me time and labor.”
“Harper’s already paying me.”
“For the stuff you do for her, which is great. But I’m no freeloader either, and I always pay my debts. And when you work on the building itself, that’s a debt I owe you.”
She considered that, decided she could live with it, and nodded. “Early this morning me and Harper pulled up the gross linoleum in that back storage closet, so probably you owe me a double serving of fries.”
He smiled. “Bottomless fries it is. And my mom just made her famous lasagna. She makes it weekly and stuffs it into my fridge. I’ll set a piece aside for you to take back and eat whenever.”
She froze. “Your mom?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t born thirty-four years old, you know.”
He was teasing her, so she managed a smile, but her mind was spinning. I have a grandma . . .
“Kid, you just hit the lottery,” Mace said as he passed by again. “Not only is Mom’s lasagna notorious, Bodie’s never given up a slice voluntarily. I had to fight him for some last time.”
Bodie narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Go anywhere near it and consider it game on.”
To Ivy’s surprise, Mace lifted his hands in surrender.
“I didn’t mean to cause a fight.” Sudden nerves had Ivy’s tummy quivering like it did when she ate too much chocolate. Because how would Bodie act when he was angry? What if when he got mad, he was like one of her stepdads, the Yeller. Or the Thrower. “Please don’t fight because of something stupid I said,” she said shakily.
“Hey.” Bodie squeezed her hand. “First, you didn’t do anything wrong. And second, we don’t fight. Not really. Mostly we just talk over each other. Mace here has the loudest voice, and he tries to use it to get his way.” He took a French fry and popped it in his mouth. “We don’t physically fight in our family.”
“Well, not anymore anyway,” Mace said. “The last time was when Zeke was seventeen and decided to ‘borrow’ Dad’s Blazer. Austin insisted on a turn driving and crashed into our mailbox at the end of our road, remember?” he asked Bodie.
“Hard to forget. We started the blame game and got into a fight right there in the road in the middle of the night.”
Mace smiled. “We came home carrying the Blazer’s side mirrors and various scrapes and black eyes. Shit, Dad was furious.”
“Signed us up for karate lessons the next day,” Bodie said with a smile in his voice. “So we could beat the shit out of each other on someone else’s watch.”
“Yeah, he loved that,” Mace said. “I miss him. Austin too.”
“Every day,” Bodie said.
They’d lost a brother. And a dad. And they’d stuck together. Watching these two grown men show such easy emotion and affection for each other, Ivy really wanted to believe it was all some kind of act. But she knew it wasn’t. Bodie seemed like a good guy . . . and yet he’d walked away from her and her mom. So how good of a guy could he really be? “None of you fight, ever?” she asked in disbelief. “Even with your own kids? Like, what if they’re jerks, or do something stupid?”
Bodie and Mace looked at each other. “The only one of us who has kids is Zeke,” Bodie said.
Ivy, who’d been avoiding eye contact, lifted her head, shocked. Startled. Why would he say he didn’t have a kid? Was he lying, or . . .
Or was her mom?
“Do you . . . do you want kids?” she asked over the thunder of her heart beating in her ears.
“Sure.” This from Mace. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I’d like to think I could come back from them and have a family someday.”
Ivy looked at Bodie and held her breath.
“Not that many mistakes,” he said to his brother, who gave him a shadow of a smile. Bodie turned to Ivy, and she wondered if he’d answer the question, as he was definitely the more closed off of the two. “Maybe someday,” he said.
Her heart sort of died on the “maybe.”
“But if you ask one of the nephews,” he went on, “he’d tell you that I’m the best uncle on the planet.”
Mace snorted as he walked off. “In your dreams, man. That title is mine.”
Bodie turned to the counter between the bar and kitchen, grabbed another plate of French fries, and set it in front of Ivy. “How about you? You close to your family?”
She swallowed a fry that felt like a block of wood suddenly. “No.”
Bodie gave her a “gimme more” gesture, and she sighed. “My mom’s too busy with her new husband.”
“And your dad?”
That one was easy. “I’m not sure he knows I exist.”
Bodie didn’t try to give her any empty platitudes, like most adults did. He simply nodded. “You deserve better.”
She wanted that to be true, but she wasn’t sure it was.
“Have you called anyone to check in and let them know you’re okay?” Bodie asked.
“Harper asks me that every single day.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “My mom’s out of the country right now, but I’ll call when she’s home.” Maybe.
He surprised her by accepting this. Not a nag in sight. It gave her courage to ask him the question she’d been dying to ask. “So . . . have you made mistakes too? Like Mace?”
He was quiet for a long moment, and she wasn’t at all sure he intended to answer. But then he did. “In another job, in another life,” he said. “I got distracted and made a bad call. And because of it, someone who was like family to me ended up dead, leaving behind a family. And no man should have to leave behind his family.”
Ivy could see the pain and regret in his eyes, and she absolutely believed him. What scared her was that she’d never been so confused. All her life, he’d been the Big Bad in her history bank. The dad who’d walked away and never looked back.
But this didn’t match up with anything that she’d learned about him. “I’m really sorry for your friend and his family,” she said. “And that you had to go through that.”
“Thanks. Me too. I’m damn sorry for all of it.”
She poked a French fry into some ketchup and swirled it around. “Do you think people can come back from their mistakes?”
“I sure as hell hope so.”
She popped the French fry in her mouth and nudged the plate toward him so he’d help himself. “Me too,” she said softly. She wished that with all her might.