Page 19 of Salvation
Without another word, Ethel goes in search of Muriel, and Hayes sighs.
“They’re going to get arrested later,” he says, stating it as if it’s a fact he already knows.
I shrug. “Probably.”
Hayes watches me out of the corner of his eye. “What were you and Ethel talking about?”
Lifting my cup, I take a drink before I answer him, and when I pull it back down, I avoid looking at him. “You know Ethel. It’s hard to follow most of her conversations.”
Hayes makes a noncommittal grunt, like he doesn’t believe me, but thankfully, he lets it drop.
“Listen, I was hoping we could talk. There’s something I need to tell you.”
The seriousness in his voice has me turning to face him, but where I thought I would find his face, pinched into tight lines of worry, instead, he’s wearing a smile.
“MJ and I are having a baby.”
The world stops spinning, and everything inside of me goes cold, the blood draining from my face. A good friend would behappy for them. I want to be, but with Ivy back in town, I’m slowly starting to unravel.
Hayes’s brows dip, and he looks at me with concern—just like he did back at my house.
I open my mouth to congratulate him, but that’s not what comes out. “I have to go.”
Spinning on my heel, I sprint to my truck, a cold sweat running down my back.
It’s time for me to face my ghosts.
Chapter 10
Campbell
15 Years Old
Ivy was supposed to meet me at our spot an hour ago, but she hasn’t shown up.
I shove my hands through my hair, tugging at the roots, and pace back and forth for what seems like the millionth time. Ivy’s never late. She has this thing about being on time. I know because she yells at me every time I’m not—which is a lot—so the only explanation for her not being here now is that something bad has happened.
Worry gnaws at my gut as I continue to pace, stopping to glance toward the direction of her house every few seconds.
We never go to her house. In all the time we’ve been friends, we’ve only ever hung out here, at our spot, or at my house. She says it’s because her grandparents are too old to enjoy company. I believed that when we were young, but I’m old enough now to know it’s more than that. She tries to hide it, but I see her.
She’s all I can see.
The worry hardens in my stomach, and I stop my pacing, coming to a decision.
Until now, I’ve respected Ivy’s decision to keep her world separate, but I can’t sit here and wait, wondering what’s happened to her any longer.
Without a second thought, I take off running, my long legs eating up the distance between our houses, and by the time I reach her house, I am breathing hard. I take a minute to compose myself.
Although I haven’t been in their home, I’ve met Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham several times. It was never pleasant. They were always polite, but it was like they were almost too polite—like they were only doing it because people were watching.
I raise my hand and knock, my knuckles meeting the hard, wooden door, and then I step back and wait.
Something pinches in my chest, and I try to rub it away. It’s been happening a lot here lately. Sometimes I wonder if I’m going to end up having a heart attack before I’m sixteen years old. Thankfully, the pressure fades as quickly as it started—this time, at least. Sometimes it lasts for hours.
The door swings open, and Mr. Cunningham stands there, his presence filling the space.
“I’m sorry for bothering you, sir, but is Ivy home?”
