The Year I Became Isabella Anders (Sunnyvale, #1)

“Well, at least you two share the same taste in bad music!” I laugh, because they look ridiculous, and I love them for it.

“Isa’s kind of a music snob,” Kai remarks between lyrics.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Indigo says then belts out more lyrics as she drives through the intersection. “She knows this song.” She reaches over and pinches my side. “Come on, Isa, sing it.” When I shake my head, she pinches me again. “Do it. Do it.”

Kai chants with her until finally I throw up my hands, surrendering. “Fine! But only because I can’t take the peer pressure.”

The three of us sing and dance together, creating a sound that kind of resembles a herd of dying cats. By the time the song is finished, Kai is passed out in the backseat.

“I’m really glad you called me tonight,” Indigo says as she steers the car through the sleepy town of Sunnyvale and toward my subdivision.

“I promised you I’d never drink and drive or get into a car with someone who has been drinking,” I say, resting my head back against the seat.

“That’s not the only reason I’m glad.” She flips the blinker on and changes lanes. “I tried to call you tonight. I have something I need to tell you.”

I take out my phone from my pocket. “The battery’s dead.” I tuck the phone away then rotate in the seat. “What’s up?”

“I found this box while I was going through some of Grandma Stephy’s old stuff,” she says as she pulls into my driveway. All the lights in the house are off, which hopefully means Hannah isn’t home. “There was a box with your dad’s name on it, and I think I found something you might want.” After she pushes the shifter into park, she opens the console, takes out a crinkled photo, and hands it to me.

The picture is of a woman holding a little girl, probably around two or three, and they’re smiling at something in the distance. They have the same blue eyes and brown hair, looking similar enough that they could be mother and daughter.

“Who is this? Wait. You think . . .” I blink at Indigo. “You think this is my mom and me?”

“I’m not sure, but I wonder if it might be. I don’t even think your dad knows the photo was in the box. It was rolled up and stuck inside the bottom of a lamp. I actually thought it was a joint at first, but then I pulled it out and . . .” She trails off, staring at the closed garage door. “It was so weird how it was put in there, almost like someone hid it in there.”

“Maybe my dad did it,” I say quietly. “Maybe he wanted to keep something of my mother, but he didn’t want Lynn to know about it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe your mom put it in there for you to find it.”

“That sounds like a huge stretch. And how would my mom even get a lamp into a box of my dad’s old stuff? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Her gaze glides to me. “I asked Grandma Stephy why the box was there and she said it your dad asked her to store it for her.”

“Which means he probably put it there.” I look down at the photo and swallow hard. We look so happy together. Happy. God, I want to feel it again, how I felt in this photo. “Maybe he’s still in love with her, and that’s why he hid it.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he won’t tell you about her,” she points out. “Or why you lived with her for three years before she gave you up.”

My lungs ache as I struggle to get air. “Maybe that’s because she died. Maybe he took me in because she died, and he keeps this photo because he wants to hold onto her memory.”

“That’s deep, Isa.” She thrums her fingernails on top of the wheel, frowning. “Maybe a little too deep for your dad.”

“Who knows how deep my dad is?” Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes. “I don’t know him.”

“No one really does when you think about it. He’s practically secluded himself from the entire family.”

She’s right. No one really knows my dad, except for maybe Lynn, who practically controls his every move. I wonder if at one time my mom knew him, though. Like really knew him. Were they happy? How did they end up together? Did she make him laugh? Did he make her smile? Was he the one who took the picture? Did the three of us ever spend time together?

All questions I may never get the answers to.

I smash my lips together as I stare at the photo.

Who are you? Where did you go?

How do I find you?

I tuck the photo into my pocket, say goodbye to Indigo, and then climb out of the car. Kai doesn’t get out right away, so I open the back door and give him a little shake. His eyelashes flutter open and he blinks at me, disoriented.

“We’re home,” I tell him softly.

He sticks out his hand and wiggles his fingers. “Help me up.”

I grab his hand and tug on his arm. He slides to the edge of the seat and ducks out, bumping his head on the way.

“Ow.” He rubs his head, frowning. “The sad thing is I didn’t even feel it.”

“Then why’d you say ow for?” I tease him as I give Indigo another wave and close the door.