Page 32 of Salvation
A funny look flashes through his eyes, there and then gone, and then they soften, looking at me with a tenderness I’ve never had with anyone else.
“Never, Ivy. I would never make you face this alone.”
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The smell of citrus soap and cedar cologne surrounds me, filling my lungs and making me dizzy, but there’s no escaping it—not when I’m sitting in the front seat of Campbell’s truck. It’s soaked into the leather, flowing through the air vents,suffocating me in the very best way until I have to hold my breath against it so I don’t do something stupid like shove my nose into the seat and draw in a deep breath to soak it in.
Campbell’s scent was just another thing I spent missing over the years. He always smelled like home. Sometimes, after I left Benton Falls, I’d pass by someone who smelled similar, but it was never the same. Campbell’s smell was always uniquely him: citrus soap, cedar cologne, and home.
My vision begins to fade, and I finally have to let out my breath, rolling down the window to let in fresh air. It hits me in the face, and I gulp it in, taking deep breaths through my nose even as the wind wreaks havoc in my hair. I suck it in as if I haven’t had air in days because that’s what it feels like whenever I’m around Campbell.
When I’ve finally purged the smell from my nose, I chance a glance his way, studying him while I have the freedom to do so.
He’s sitting with one arm propped up on the windowsill and the other draped over the steering wheel. A backward ball cap covers his hair, and his beard is a little longer than the scruff he wore on my first day in town. But it’s the dark shadows under his eyes that hold my attention.
“I can feel you staring at me, sunshine.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks, and I pull my attention back to the window, watching the scenery pass by.
“Will you tell me how you found her?” I ask, changing the subject to something safer.
Campbell lets out a long sigh. I itch to turn and look at him, but I resist.
“I tracked down the private investigator. The one your grandma mentioned in those papers. It was pretty easy after that. But, Ivy,” he says, his hand falling on my bare arm to get my attention. Goosebumps pebble my skin, and I can’t resist the pull to look at him. My eyes meet ocean blue ones that make youfeel like you’re drowning if you stare into them too long. “I don’t know what we are walking into. The investigator didn’t tell me much, just the name of the family who adopted her.”
“Do you—” My throat aches, and I try to swallow it away. “Do you think they’ve taken care of her?”
I’m not asking if he thinks she was clothed and fed, and we both know it. I want to know if she is loved. I’ve asked myself that a hundred times since finding out she’s alive. I’ve sat up and wondered about it at night when I should’ve been sleeping because I’m terrified that the answer is no.
“I hope so. I’ve prayed about it.”
I can’t stop the scoff that slips out. I shift, turning away from him to look back out the window, but his hand moves, tugging at my fingers until I look his way.
“What?” he asks, his gaze flicking from the road to meet mine. His lips are tugged down in a frown, showing the dimples at the corners of his mouth, and I try not to notice.
“What do you mean?” I ask, pretending to be oblivious, but Campbell has always been able to see right through me.
He purses his lips and gives me a side eye.
“Don’t play dumb, sunshine. It’s not cute.”
I glare at him, crossing my arms over my chest and shrugging. “I’m just not sure I see the point in praying.”
Campbell’s brows furrow. “What do you mean? You always used to go to church with me.”
“You’re right. I did, and do you know what I did when I was there? I sat there staring at the wall, wondering about the point. The people sitting beside me were the same ones who stabbed me in the back when they walked out. My grandparents are a prime example. I grew up and realized that church was just about the pageantry—a way to make people feel good on Sunday for the bad things they did during the week.”
I can tell my answer surprises him. His brows are raised, and he keeps looking at me from the corner of his eye. But my bitterness runs too deep to care. I know Campbell and his family go to church, and for a long time, I counted them as part of the hypocrites. Now that I know things weren’t exactly as I thought they were back then, I’m not sure where they fit in my logic, but that still doesn’t change my feelings about church and the people in it either.
A sharp sting tears through the corner of my thumb. Looking down, I realize that I’d been picking at my cuticles this whole time. A drop of blood trickles down my thumb. It’s poetic—the way I always seem to bleed around this man. Just when it’s about to drip onto my jeans, I lift my hand and shove my thumb into my mouth to stave off the bleeding.
“Ivy, that’s not—” Campbell starts, but I cut him off, pulling my thumb out of my mouth.
“No, Campbell,” I say, shaking my head. Curls fall around my face, and I push them back. “Don’t do that. You won’t change my mind.”
A deafening silence fills the truck, but I can feel his eyes on me. After a second, Campbell lets out a long sigh, and I glance his way. He’s staring straight ahead, no longer looking at me.
“Okay, Ivy,” he agrees, resigned.
