Page 8 of Salvation
A heavy huff crackles through the phone. “Just come home to me, Ivy. When you’re ready, come home to me.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply. The phone call ends with a soft click. Lifting my head from the window, I spin so my back is against the wall and sink to the floor. I set my phone down beside me and turn the ring on my finger around and around and around.
Brecks asked me to come home, but I don’t know that I’ve ever had a home.
Chapter 4
Campbell
Ivy leaves, and I can’t breathe. My chest hurts like someone has taken a sledgehammer to it, cracking me open and making me bleed.
She looked nothing and everything like I remembered. Same blonde curly hair. Same honey brown eyes. Same Ivy—and yet, not. Gone was the wild girl of my memories, and in her place stood a poised woman of society. Every inch of her was perfectly in place—not a flaw in sight—and it made me want to reach out and rub my fingers through her hair so something about her felt more like the girl I used to know. I almost did it, too—until I saw that ring on her finger. Then the world came crashing down.
Shaking away the image of her standing in front of me, I blindly follow the hall back to my bedroom, but instead of going to bed, I walk to my closet, reaching up for a box in the very back corner and pulling it out.
The wound in my chest cracks open, and I wonder how much I’ll bleed. The first time Ivy left, it nearly bled me dry, but I somehow managed to hold the pieces of my wound together until it formed a jagged scar. Seeing that ring on her finger ripped it wide open, though, and this time, I think about letting it kill me.
With shaking hands, I carry the box to my living room and carefully set it on the coffee table.
There’s only one thing in it. I got rid of everything else that reminded me of Ivy, but this—I couldn’t get rid of this because it wasn’t ever just Ivy I was remembering.
I hold my breath as I lift the lid, and then I hold it longer. My lungs scream for air, but I don’t give in, not even when blackness pools at the edges of my vision. I revel in the pain, let it eat away my soul, and just when I’m on the edge of passing out, I let it go, dragging air back into my lungs as the numbness slips back in.
My vision clears, and my eyes fall to the item in the box—a small, white stuffed rabbit. The soft fabric catches on my rough fingers as I run them along one floppy ear.
I will spend forever missing the person I was never given the chance to know, and I hadn’t realized how much I hated the woman who caused that until she showed up on my doorstep tonight.
Shoving the lid back on the box, I stand from the couch and march to the door, slinging it open and grabbing the paper Ivy shoved into my chest. My anger burns bright as I snatch it up, the feeling eating me alive.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything, but between the paper in my hand and the ring on Ivy’s, I’m drowning in a pool of emotions. And I have no idea how to swim. There was a time when another ring sat on her finger—a ring that was supposed to be a promise of forever—but that promise was made by two stupid kids who believed forever existed. I wonder what promises she made with the man who gave her the one she wears now?
My fists tighten, the paper crumpling between my fingers. I give myself two seconds of pent-up rage, then I relax my hand and smooth out the letter. I already know what I will find when I open it. It’s the only letter I ever sent, but pure need drives my actions anyway.
I slam the door closed behind me and carefully pull back the edges of the folded paper until my handwriting stares back at me. Words from sixteen years ago fill my vision, and suddenly, the heat of my anger fades away—leaving only the numbness behind.
______________________
I didn’t sleep at all last night. I couldn’t, not with the image of Ivy’s brown eyes haunting me. She has changed a lot since we were sixteen, having matured into more of a woman than a girl, but her eyes remain the same. When I looked into them, she was both the nine-year-old girl I met in the clearing and the sixteen-year-old girl I fell in love with—but she’s also the girl who shattered me. And it’s hard to admit that those two realities are woven together. She is simultaneously the girl I love and the one I hate.
The Benton Falls police station is quiet the next morning when I walk in for work. I have a coffee in hand, but it’s doing nothing to fight off the exhaustion I feel deep in my bones. I joined the force right after high school. I always knew I wanted to stay here. While my friends were leaving for football scholarships, I craved the familiarity of home. I never needed everyone to know my name because I played a sport. A simple life has always been enough for me.
When I get to my desk, there’s someone already sitting in my chair.
I’ve been friends with Hayes Miller for as long as I can remember. Our friendship is odd. I’ve always been loud and comical, while he’s dark and brooding. When the third member of our trio, Langston, passed away, we each leaned into our roles. I used humor to mask my feelings, and he carried the weight of guilt on his shoulders. Hayes was set to go pro, but he gave it all up and came back home, joining the force with me and avoiding any real connection—until last year.
Last year, Langston’s sister, MJ, came home, and I finally understood. Since the day he’d moved back home to Benton Falls, he’d been waiting on her. When he looked at her, the clouds that followed him melted away. Sometimes, I hardly recognize my best friend, but I’m happy for him.
There was a time when I used to think my life would turn out that way—that the girl of my dreams would come back home to me. I used to dream about it, but dreams often fail to hold up in reality—and that was proven true last night.
Hayes hears me coming and spins around to face me, propping his feet up on my desk. I shrug, set my coffee down, and pull myself up so I’m sitting on top of it, knocking his feet off in the process. His boots hit the floor with a thud, and I chuckle. The interaction is light and carefree—a reflection of who everyone expects me to be—but as I laugh, the numbness digs its way a little deeper into my chest.
“So,” Hayes says, leaning back in my chair and putting his hands behind his head. “I heard a rumor.”
The goading in his voice is clear. He wants me to ask, but instead, I pick up my coffee and put it to my lips, taking a sip. He arches one brow and smirks. He knows exactly what I’m doing. We’ve been friends for too long. I’ve always found the inner workings of Benton Falls gossip fascinating, especially in my line of work, but I like to pretend I don’t.
Hayes continues to wait, the silence eating away at me. I hate when things are quiet, and he knows that. Eventually, I break.
“Fine. What’s the rumor?”
