Page 67 of Salvation
“I realized I had someone to get better for. Two people, actually.” Ivy’s breath shudders, but she’s doing better than I am. I’m not sure my lungs know how to take in air anymore. “And those two people deserve the best version of me, but I don’t think I can become that version alone. I need help.Yourhelp.”
“Why me, Campbell?” she whispers, and I smile. It’s crooked and imperfect, but I still smile.
“You already know the answer to that, sunshine.”
“Tell me anyway.”
I reach up, wrapping my finger around my favorite curl and tug. “Because you’ve always been the only person who sees me and never made me feel broken because of what you saw.”
For a lifetime of seconds, it’s always been her, and if she were to turn me away right here in this moment, it would still be her. I’ll go on counting the seconds of missing her until the day I die.
Ivy takes one careful step forward and then another, her gaze never straying from mine as she lifts her hand and places it on my chest, directly over my heart. The place she branded herself into a long time ago.
“I do see you, Campbell.” She leans in, placing a kiss against my cheek, and I close my eyes, savoring the feeling. I can’t be sure, but when she pulls back, it almost sounds like she whispers, “Only ever you.”
And it’s just enough to give me hope that this ‘yes’ is just the first.
Chapter 30
Campbell
Sixteen Years Old
It’s been one million, two hundred and nine thousand, six hundred seconds since I last saw Ivy, and I think I’m dying. After she left, I started the stopwatch on my phone, counting the seconds until I saw her again, and it’s been counting them ever since. Every breath I take feels like sharp knives stabbing into my lungs.
I was too shocked to go after her that day in the clearing. I didn’t know what to say, so I went home intending to talk to my parents—to get a plan together before I spoke to Ivy. I didn’t want to freeze again, but when I’d gotten home, my parents were already dealing with Isaiah, who’d shown up high again. I decided right then and there that I wouldn’t put any more pressure on them. I was man enough to choose to have sex, and I’d be man enough to make decisions moving forward. It was already late by the time I came to that conclusion, so I decided to wait until the next day to see Ivy. But that had been another mistake because when I knocked on the front door, the Cunninghams’ maid had been the one to answer. And for the second time in two days, my world had been rocked when she delivered a message—Ivy and her grandparents had left, and they weren’t coming back.
I’ve spent every day since then trying to call Ivy. Her cellphone has been disconnected, but she once gave me the number for their home in Florida. I’d never used it because it was rare for Ivy to leave Benton Falls. Usually, only her grandparents traveled to that home, but it’s the only place I know to look for her. After a week of nameless maids answering the phone and leaving messages with no returned phone calls, I finally sent a letter. Then I waited. When a Florida number appeared on my phone two days ago, I rushed to answer it, but it wasn’t Ivy on the other end. It was Henry Cunningham.
He said he was returning to Benton Falls for a few days and wanted to meet. I’ve never liked the man, but I’d do anything to know that Ivy’s okay. So I agreed and then spent the last two days preparing what I would say to him.
I gave Ivy a ring on her sixteenth birthday, promising her forever, and it’s a promise I intend to keep. With his permission, I plan on asking Ivy to marry me. Then everything will be better.
Standing in front of the Cunninghams’ door, I raise my hand and knock, stepping back and shoving my hands in my pockets as I wait. A chill is starting to permeate the air as fall is slowly slipping into winter. Soon, the whole world will be bleak with it, but for now, I take in the last of the leaves, still clinging to the tree, needing something to focus on. There’s one tree with leaves that are all red, not a single other color on it. And as a leaf falls, it almost looks like it’s weeping blood. I follow the movement of it falling until it hits the ground, and for a reason I can’t explain, my stomach sinks.
At the sound of the door creaking open, I lift my gaze, staring into the hard, cold eyes of Henry Cunningham. He’s dressed in a suit, just like he’s always been every time I’ve seen him, and although I dressed up for this in a pair of dress pantsand a button-up shirt, he still looks at me like I’m a bug beneath his feet. And for once, I don’t blame him.
“Sir,” I say, as he continues to eye me, “May I come in?”
“That would be prudent. I tend not to take my meetings on the front step,” he sneers, stepping aside so I can walk through the front door.
I keep my hands in my pockets as I walk by him, and even though I can feel the heat running, it still feels colder in the house than it did outside.
I’ve been in the Cunninghams’ house a handful of times—and it’s never felt warm—but seeing it stripped down to just the furniture and a little bit of decor, it almost feels desolate.
“We’ll talk in my office,” Henry’s voice booms behind me. I nod and step aside so he can lead the way. He looks down his nose at me as he walks by.
With each footstep I take, my heart kicks up its speed. My hands are sweating, but I keep them where they are so I’m not tempted to wipe them off on the front of my pants.
The office is just down the hall. Our footsteps echo on the wood floor as we draw closer. I walk through first, and Henry shuts the door behind us. The sound of the latch clicking into place sounds like a death knell.
I stand by the door, hovering uncomfortably as Henry walks over to his desk and sits behind it. When he notices I’m still standing, he motions to the seat in front of him impatiently. “Sit.”
His voice fills the office, bouncing off the walls and sounding more like he is speaking to a dog than a human.
Gritting my teeth, I do as he asks, knowing that it won’t help the situation to argue, but it also gives me one more reason to add to my list of reasons for wanting to marry Ivy, not that I need it. I’ve been compiling reasons to marry Ivy since I was nine. At that age, my list contained only one—she was my bestfriend—but now, I can list a hundred. Her laugh. Her smile. Her kindness toward others. It’s all there, on a list I keep on my phone.
Once I’m sitting, I place my hands in my lap and meet Mr. Cunningham’s stare head-on. He expects to intimidate me here, but I won’t let him. I came for two things—to make sure Ivy’s okay and to leave with permission to marry her—and I’m not leaving until I get them. So I start with the easiest one, hoping it will break the ice. “Is Ivy okay, sir?”
