Page 19 of Salvation

Fair point. A comfortable silence falls over the kitchen as I wait for my coffee, and it stays that way as she finishes up the last few dishes in the sink and I settle into my spot at the table. The scrape of my fork against the plate is the only sound until my mom’s voice cuts through the air. “Sit on the porch with me when you’re done?”

The fork freezes halfway to my mouth as her question takes me by surprise. Not at the idea of sitting outside on a morning like this, let alone with my mom. We have some of our best memories on the deck. Reading, coloring, gossiping. But I’m quick to realize what this is. My favorite breakfast. Coffee. A chipper but steady mood wafting off my mom at six in the morning.

My heart clenches, and it takes everything in me to meet her gaze. I know she wants to talk. To have a conversation abouteverything.But I’m not sure I’m ready for everything. So, I do what I do best. “I…um, I have to get ready for work. But tomorrow? Maybe?”

A part of my chest cracks wide open at the hurt that flashes across her face, but I busy myself with stuffing the last few bits of breakfast in my mouth and pushing away from the small, round wooden table. I hear her intake of breath, but I don’t stick around long enough to see what comes of it.

***

After I change for work, opting for a plain pair of light-wash jeans with my Bell’s shirt, I barrel down the stairs. I intend to escape before my mom can convince me to dally any longer than I want to. “Where are the keys?” I call out into the house, eyes scanning around the foyer.

I’m praying the old beetle even starts. It’s been rotting in the garage since the dawn of time.

“Dish by the front.” My mom hollers back, and I’m already ripping open the front door, shouting my goodbyes. But my feet come to a screeching halt at the flowers I’ve nearly knocked over in my hurry. Agorgeousarray of flowers. I cock my head and drop into a crouch, gathering the vase into my hands and turning back into the house. I hear my mom’s footstepsrounding the corner of the kitchen and make quick work of glancing at the note stuffed in the center.

Something almost as beautiful as you.

My brows shoot sky-high. “Find them, honey?” Her light steps slow as her brown eyes land on the gift, and I fail miserably to hide my smirk at her shocked expression.

“Looks like you have a secret admirer?”

She blushes. My mom actuallyblushes. “It’s probably just a friend from the center.”

Still, she rushes forward to snag them from my hands, tucking them against her chest. I hum in a way that tells her I’m not convinced and skim a skeptical eye over her frame. But instead of teasing her any further, I shrug and lean forward to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“Thanks for breakfast. See you later!”

Chapter 18

Blake

Itell myself I’m absentmindedly walking, not heading in any general direction. Whitney gave me an hour for lunch, so my curiosity got the best of me. I was thankful the car started with ease this morning, otherwise, I probably would’ve settled on hitch-hiking the entire way to work.

I did work as a barista in New York when I first got there, so it wasn’t hard to pick up on what Whitney needed from me in the shop, which I’m grateful for. It’s an easy job, and one that will provide me with both a distraction and a good income. After yesterday, I want nothing more than to bury myself in work and any other silly tasks I can come up with. Moving, on top of my father’s release, on top of Marshall’s betrayal, has accumulated into a dark cloud hanging above my head, just waiting to let its core wreak havoc below. I’m going to do everything in my power to forget it all. If I managed to do it with my childhood trauma for six years, surely I can hold on a little longer.

I see the young girl from the other day locking up the door of the antique shop, and there’s a slight pause in my steps. Unsure if pretending she doesn’t exist will come off as rude. But Elain, if I remember correctly, takes it upon herself to strike up a conversation, not even turning her head when she blurts, “Sorry. We don’t sell pot here. Just the turtles.”

I outright laugh at her comment, and I see just a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, her eyes lighting up at the fact that she had made me react so loudly. “Don’t worry. I was just passing by. Looking to grab lunch somewhere, I guess.”

“Me too."

She’s fully facing me now, keys dangling from her hand. She looks tired, with light bags under her eyes that also look a little red. And for some reason, I have this odd desire to make her smile again. Brighten up her mood. She’s just a kid, and it’s summer. She should be hanging out with friends instead of working, so it makes me wonder if she even has any.

“Elain, right? I’m Blake.” I peek around her shoulder, seeing Clover-Hills diner just a few shops away. “Do you want to go to the diner with me? My treat.” I’m not hungry, but something tells me she’d appreciate the company. I think I would, too.

She contemplates it for a bit, but then she’s shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly and saying, “Sure.”

We settle into an awkward silence as we walk. “Do they still serve breakfast all day?” I ask. “They have the best pancakes in town.”

“They do.”

More silence that I can’t stand. It truly makes me want to pull my hair out. I blame that on the reason I continue our conversation and not on the fact that I’m a nosy bitch. “So, do you enjoy working at the shop?”

“I just do it to help out my parents. I don’t get paid.” My brows shoot up at that. Maybe it’s just me, but who doesn’t paytheir kid to work, even if it’s a family-owned shop? And then a lightbulb goes off in my head, and I’m spewing the words before I even give it much thought.

“Do you want a job? A paying one, I mean.” It would give me an opportunity to scope out her situation a bit more and the motivation to get the house fixed up faster.

“I don’t want your pity help.” She snaps, but it comes out weak rather than intimidating.

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