Page 14 of Salvation
“Nothing,” Campbell says, turning his back to me, and I automatically know it’s something. Campbell only avoids looking at me when he’s trying to hide his feelings.
Jumping off the bed, I take him by surprise and tackle him to the ground, sitting on his back and holding him down until he yells ‘mercy.’
“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll let you up,” I say, knowing that if he wanted to, he could get up.
“Fine. I’ll tell you. Now get off of me.”
With a grin, I stand up, and he rolls to his back, glaring up at me.
“You can’t just tackle everyone you want information out of,” he says grumpily, but humor dances in his eyes.
Shrugging, I go back to my perch on the bed. “Sure, I can. Now spill.”
Campbell sits up, bending his knees and hanging his arms over them as he avoids my gaze.
“It’s just—sometimes I wish I could get in trouble.”
My brows dip. “Are you insane? Who wants to get in trouble?”
With a humorless chuckle, Campbell says, “You’re right. It’s stupid.”
He’s looking up, glaring out his window, and I watch him for a minute. Sadness clings to him, and it makes my chest ache. Sliding from the bed, I crawl over to where he sits, placing my hand softly on his forearm.
“Hey,” I say, calling his attention to me. His blue eyes find mine, and my breath stutters. “I wasn’t listening, but I am now. Explain it to me.”
“It’s stupid,” he says again.
I shake my head, curls tumbling into my face. Campbell lifts his hand and tucks it behind my ear, and I shiver with the contact.
“It’s not. Tell me,” I whisper.
He holds my face for one second, then two, and then he gives in, letting his hand drop and looking away when he says, “Isaiah is always getting in trouble—big trouble—and Mom and Dad focus on him. Which is fine, I get it, but then there’s Ali, who excels at everything she does. Mom and Dad are so proud of her, and I am, too—but I wish they would see me sometimes. My siblings are so different—the shining star and the screw-up—and I’m stuck in the middle, hoping they’ll notice me.”
When he looks back at me, the light in his eyes is missing, and it scares me so much that I scramble forward, forcing myself onto his lap and slinging my arms around his neck. He holds me, wrapping his arms around me.
Campbell is the very definition of light, and I never want to see that dullness in his eyes again.
“I notice you, Campbell. Always.”
Chapter 7
Ivy
Four weeks pass in Benton Falls, in which I’ve spent my time, bouncing between trying to go through my grandparents’ things and avoiding the manila envelope that my long-lost great uncle dropped off at my doorstep, but avoiding the envelope only leads to me staring at the white walls, trying not to go insane. In the end, I’m not sure which one it is that finally causes me to break.
After Charles left, I placed the envelope on the counter, and it’s been there ever since, taunting me. I can’t bring myself to open it because I know that whatever is in there is another secret that will change my life. Again. It will change my life again. At this point, I really shouldn’t be surprised. I’m only thirty-two, and I’ve had so many devastating changes in my life that I should be used to it. But somehow they still hurt every time.
So when I couldn’t handle staring at it any longer, I grabbed my keys and drove to the hardware store, determined to do something about the white walls—especially since it seems it might be the only painting I can manage. My canvas remains disturbingly blank.
Now I’m back with a paintbrush in hand, plastic rolled out over the door, and a mental block that apparently applies to walls too, because all I can picture is my grandmother’s pinched scowl if she were ever to see yellow walls in her home.
With a growl, I throw the brush down, splattering paint everywhere, then gasp when some of it flies up and hits me in the face. This town is not good for me. I don’t know what I’m doing here. I could’ve hired someone to sort through the house. I have a fiancé waiting for me. A career. Although that one may be questionable, seeing as I can’t even paint a wall, let alone a canvas. But even still, I have a life waiting for me outside of Benton Falls. Those old wounds I’ve been looking to heal are more irritated than ever, so what am I doing here?
I’ve almost convinced myself to pack up and go home when a knock comes from the front door.
Sighing, I wipe the splatters from my face and try to arrange my appearance into something presentable. My clothes are rumpled and my hair a mess.
The importance of my appearance was ingrained in me from the very first night I slept in this house. My grandparents claimed it was a reflection of them. The wildness of my curls was always a point of contention because no matter how hard I tried to tame them, they would never stay tucked away.
