Wood Hollow didn’t host many events. Until recently, we simply hadn’t had the infrastructure required to accommodate traffic and parking that wasn’t specifically related to the mill. And our only reliable eatery hadn’t been equipped to serve large parties. That had changed, though.
We’d widened our thoroughfares, cleared overgrown brush for parking, and had remodeled derelict buildings that were now leased to popular new cafés. Nothing fancy, but that was okay. We could offer guests a variety of quality bed-and-breakfasts, dining choices and conveniences, and damn it, we looked pretty in springtime.
The sky was a robin’s-egg blue dotted with cotton-candy clouds. The tapestry of pines, elms, and maple trees complemented the newly manicured football field behind Wood Hollow High’s gymnasium.
Not to belabor the point, but it sure as hell hadn’t been this nice when I’d gone to school here.
Back then, the grass had grown in ugly clumps, and the ground had been riddled with dangerous divots. In tenth grade, Reg had twisted his ankle on one the size of a small pothole.He’d literally been writhing in pain next to a mini crater, and the school’s response had been to throw some dirt in it.
“I think it made us tougher than the rest,” Reg liked to say. “We didn’t hand out Band-Aids for boo-boos. We rubbed a little dirt in the wound and played on. Life is rough, man. Falling isn’t failure unless you stay on the ground. And no one wants to do that in Wood fucking Hollow.”
He’d been joking, but also…not.
I tipped my head in greeting to Mr. Grubel, my eighth-grade biology teacher, and his wife as I waited for Ivy and Chase to scramble out of the truck.
They’d been in a funny mood this morning. Excited to see friends at the flag football kick-off and a little melancholy the way they sometimes got on what I secretly referred to as “exchange days.” I didn’t think they preferred Wood Hollow to Fallbrook or staying with either Sarah or me. We’d done a good job at making both places feel like home. But good-byes were never easy.
I pushed that thought aside and took the opportunity to seek out Silas in the crowd. I’d offered to give him a ride, but he’d wanted to come early to check out the field, and there was no way we’d have been ready to leave the house any sooner.
“Put your sweatshirt on, Chase.”
“Why? It’s sunny and I’m not cold,” he replied, hopping out of the truck.
“No arguing. It’s cooler than you think.” I stifled a sigh as Chase grumbled on cue, yanking the Condors sweatshirt Hank and Denny had given him over his head.
“Can I go find Rhys?”
I spotted Reg’s SUV by the fence. “They’re heading in now. Go get ’em, tiger.”
Chase whooped and raced off just as Ivy stepped onto the pavement, face averted.
“Are you ready to—” I stopped in my tracks, tipping her chin to get a better look. “You’re wearing eye paint.”
“Eye shadow,” she corrected. “Only a little bit. It’s not a big deal.”
“I don’t think your mom approves, and?—”
“But you’re my dad.”
Ivy didn’t bother hiding the challenge in her tone. It had been a while since either of them had gone there. But that was because Sarah and I were usually better at communicating potential issues. I’d let this one sneak through the cracks, and I still had no idea how to handle the makeup quandary.
“True. Um…”
“Oh! I see Nora. Can I go?” To her credit, she didn’t bolt off. She held my gaze and waited for permission.
“Sure. Check in regularly. You know the rules,” I said, pulling a bag hidden under the kids’ carryalls out of the truck.
Ivy cocked her head and gave me a head-to-toe once-over. “Are you playing today?”
“Yeah, someone called in sick, and Dex asked me to sub for Fallbrook.”
She squealed and jumped up and down, looking more like the girl who’d drizzled too much syrup on her pancakes while humming along to aSpongeBobdoodle on the flat-screen a few hours ago. “You didn’t tell us! Oh, my gosh! This is so cool! Did you tell Silas?”
Heat blossomed on my cheeks, and I suddenly felt like a teenager with a crush. “No, I didn’t. This is last-minute and no doubt will be very embarrassing, so let’s not draw too much attention to your dear ol’ dad.”
Ivy couldn’t stop grinning. “Whatever you say, dear ol’ Dad. Get lots of touchdowns!”
“No pressure, eh?”
