Page 20 of Salvation
“Yes”
I hadn’t realized how hard my heart had been pumping until now. It’s like the moment he confirmed she’s okay, I could finally breathe.
“May I speak with her, sir?” I keep my eyes on him, showing him respect in his home just like my father taught me to, and for once, I don’t resent the lessons he’s always trying to teach me about being a man because I watch as a shift comes over the older man standing in front of me. In the blink of an eye, the polite man I’ve always known falls away, and in his place stands someone else entirely. Something cunning and mean shines in the depths of his dark irises, and the worry I had about Ivy returns tenfold.
Without saying a word, he steps outside, closing the door behind him and forcing me back in the process.
“Now, boy,” he says. His voice is calm, but there’s a warning in the undertone. How did I never notice it before, because standing here now, it’s as evident as the day is long. The man’s a snake in the grass. “I’m going to tell you this once out of courtesy to your father because I respect him a great deal. Stay away from that granddaughter of mine. She’s trouble just like her mother.”
I bristle at the accusation. I never knew Ivy’s mom, but from everything she’s told me about her, it seems like she was a pretty good one. And Ivy—she’s the best person I know.
Stepping forward, I prepare myself to defend Ivy, even if that means knocking out this old man, who has several inches and a lot of pounds on me, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement in the upstairs window and stop. Ivy stands there, peaking out from behind a curtain, and even from here, I can see tears streaming down her pretty face. It makes me want to tear her grandfather apart with my bare hands. Rage simmers in my veins, but when she sees me watching, she shakes her head as if begging me not to say anything. And even though I want to hurt the man in front of me for ever speaking poorly about his granddaughter, I step back because I have a feeling that anything I say right now will only make things worse for her.
Dragging my attention away from Ivy, I look back at her grandfather, meeting his stare head-on. “Please tell Ivy I stopped by, sir.”
I nearly choke on that last word. He doesn’t deserve my respect, but somehow I manage to force it out before spinning on my heel and walking away.
I hear the front door close, and only when I’m sure Mr. Cunningham is no longer looking, do I finally look back at where Ivy stood.
But it’s empty.
______________________
Later that night, Ivy climbs through my window and into my bed. Without a word, I wrap my arms around her, holding her to me. She buries her head in my chest, and I rest my chin against the top of her hair. We stay like that, neither of us saying a word. We don’t need to. The silence says it all.
Before she came, I’d been staring at the ceiling, praying she would show up and that I didn’t do the wrong thing by walking away. I hated leaving her. Hated feeling helpless. And now that she’s here, I never want to let her go again.
Ivy’s always been my best friend, but lately, it feels like it’s more. When she’s in a room, it doesn’t matter who else is there; she’s the one I’m looking at. And even when she isn’t there, she’s still on my mind.
“Ivy,” I whisper her name low enough so I don’t wake up the rest of the house.
“Hmm?’ she hums, already halfway asleep. It’s almost midnight. I should probably let her rest, but there’s a question that’s been burning in my mind since I left her earlier.
“Is it always like that?”
She stirs, fully awake now, but she keeps her head tucked into my chest so I can’t see her face.
“No.”
Her denial comes too quickly. Maybe she could have convinced someone else, but not me. I’ve spent the last six years memorizing everything about her. From the way her bottom lip is slightly fuller than the top to the way her voice gets just a little higher when she lies, there’s nothing I don’t know about her.
Except for what was happening right across the street.
Anger burns my chest. I should have known. Should have seen it.
“Now tell me the truth, sunshine,” I chide, twirling a single curl around my finger and gently tugging it until she looks up at me.
The moon is the only light in the room, but it’s bright enough that I can see her lips are only a breath from mine.
My heartbeat kicks up as she studies me, her eyes flicking back and forth between mine.
“Not tonight, Campbell,” she begs. “Please.”
I don’t know if it’s the look in her eyes or that word on her lips that does me in, but I can’t hold back anymore. I lean forward, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is soft—hesitant—as I wait to see if she’ll push me away and run.
Please don’t let her run.
A heartbeat passes, and then she’s kissing me back, pressing her lips harder against mine like she’s trying to find an escape in me.
