Page 7 of Salvation

“You started it,” I say, knowing it's a childish comeback. But she relinquishes.

“Fair enough,” She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back into her seat. “At least writing turned out well enough for me.”

“If that was the case, you wouldn’t be back in Clover-Hills," I bite back. The words are out before I can stop them, and they leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

For someone who prides themselves on being so calm and collected, that all goes out the window when it comes to Blake. We may have been apart for six years, but going back to our bickering ways makes it feel like we haven’t been apart for even a day. But I took it too far, like I always do, and I don’t have to look at her to know my words hit their mark.

“I didn’t mean-" I start.

“Let’s forget it.” She whispers, interrupting me.

I snap my mouth shut at her broken tone. This is going to be a very, very long day.

Chapter 8

Blake

In Clover-Hills, everyone knows everyone. Even the ones who have been gone for the past six years. Little change happens in a town this small, and as I take in the bar, all I can feel is undiluted anxiety at even the thought of stepping inside.

I can tell it’s been updated, but Wesley kept it the same for the most part. It’s small, specifically when compared to those in the city. An old wooden sign swings above the door with “Buddies” in bold black letters, some of the lettering peeling from natural wear and tear. A few small windows litter the brick building. A red neon ‘we’re open!’ sign buzzes in what looks to be a newly installed glass door. Where there was nothing before, now sits a small patio jutting out onto the sidewalk on either side of the main entrance. Metal tables, chairs, and black string lights hang from the wood pillars above. It’s the perfect setup for a late-night drink with friends.

There are far too many memories that I’ve spent years forgetting inside that bar. The outside is different, but what if the inside looks the same?

Can I handle that? What if I see someone I know? What if they askwhyI chose tocome back? What the hell do I tell them?

“Ah, yes. I left this shit town because my father used to beat me and my mother was a druggie, but hey! I got cheated on, so I quit my dream job after four years, and here I am!”

I can’t handle the pitying glances or small talk. Fear has me stuck to the seat of Wesley’s truck like glue, and I don’t even realize we’re parked until he’s swinging open my door with a scowl. “Gonna sit in there all day?”

I huff out a breath, ignoring his awaiting hand to help me down and hop out of the truck. The door slams with a thump, making me jump a little. His brows shoot up and he asks, “Something wrong?”

“No.” I snap back.

His face tells me he can smell my bullshit a mile away, but he chooses to leave it alone and strides to the bar without another glance in my direction.

Good, the less he prods, the less complicated this will be.

I practically run to keep up with his long strides, but I falter once more as we grow closer to the doors. The smell of fries and burgers makes my stomach growl embarrassingly loud as we near. Buddies’ may be a bar, but it has always had the best food in town.

The closer we get, the smaller the world around me feels. The simple act of breathing feels even harder, and before I can think twice, I’m swiveling on my heels and booking it down the street. Thankfully, it’s still early enough in the day that not many people are out.

“Where the hell are you going?” I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Wesley's voice hollering after me. I call over myshoulder, deciding to throw his earlier jab back in his face, “Let’s justpretendthat the writing did work out, and I’mnotback.”

I can hear him calling my name, cursing, and maybe even taking a few steps to follow, but I’m gone and turning around a corner before he even gets the chance.

***

Blake screeched and pumped her arms faster, her long blonde strands swaying behind her as Wesley chased her through the tall grass with a glob of mud in his hands.

“I’m gonna get you back!” he screamed.

Blake had just pushed him into the mud baths the pigs love to roll in, and he was covered head to toe.

“It was an accident!” she screamed behind her.

Their mothers were watching from the porch, while Wyatt was sitting criss-crossed on the floor, a book propped on his knees and headphones covering his ears. It was Sunday, and the two women always met each other for coffee on the porch while the kids burned off energy. Elise looked to Ana, who was covering her face with her hands and shaking her head.

“Oh, it’ll wash off! Let them be kids,” Elise says, nudging Ana with an elbow, earning a glare in return. One look at her best friend has Ana breaking out into a giggle.

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