Page 80 of Salvation
“It doesn’t have to be.” Campbell’s bright eyes burn into me, branding my heart as if he knows it has always been his.
I turn my head away from him to look back at the painting because it’s easier to say what I have to say when I’m not lookingat him. “I gave you a million reasons yesterday why that’s not true.”
I’m being a coward—hiding because I’m scared of everything I’m feeling—but Campbell doesn’t let me. He steps in front of me, cutting off my view of the painting and forcing me to tilt my head back to look at him.
“You gave me three reasons, and I’ve just proven one untrue. You say you can’t paint, sunshine, but there is a clearing full of paintings here saying you can. So come up with as many excuses as you need to, Ivy, but I intend to prove them all wrong because you are it for me. And I plan on fighting for you.”
My hands shake, and my breath quickens with his confession. I never imagined this. Us here under the willow tree again. Never imagined a lot of things about my life. But maybe that’s because I’ve been letting my life be chosen for me, and I finally have the chance to choose for myself.
So even though I’m scared, I step forward, closing the gap between us and choosing me.
“Do you promise?” I ask, my voice a whisper that brushes against his lips.
Campbell’s eyes flick between mine. “On my life, sunshine.”
And that’s all I need to calm my fears—a promise from the man I’ve always loved. Closing the gap, I give in and fall, hoping he will be there to catch me this time.
Chapter 35
Campbell
“Icall driving,” I say, shoving Hayes’s face and taking off toward the patrol car before he has time to recover.
The world is bright today, like I woke up and the sun started shining for the first time in a long time. I feel—well, I just feel—and I never thought that would happen again. I thought I would be numb until the day I finally decided to end it all, but I’m not. I can’t describe how freeing that feels.
I turn my head over my shoulder in time to see Hayes scrambling to his feet while he glares at me, and I throw my head back, laughing. It’s loud and obnoxious, but I don’t care. It’s real, and that’s freeing, too.
I make it to the car and jump in the driver’s side, slamming and locking the door behind me. A couple of seconds later, Hayes joins me, climbing into the passenger seat and crossing his arms over his chest as he stares out the front windshield.
“Oh, Hayesie-poo, don’t pout,” I say, reaching over and tugging the corner of his lip into a smile. “You can drive next time.”
Hayes smacks my hand away and turns toward me, narrowing his eyes.
“You are annoyingly happy today,” he says with a pause and a sigh. “I’m glad.”
I snort because that last part nearly killed him to admit, even though I know he means it. “Me too, H. Me too.”
Turning the key, I start the car and pull out of the parking lot, heading across town to grab lunch before we go on patrol. The drive will take less than five minutes, but it’s one of my favorites, especially this time of year. The colors of the leaves are changing, making Benton Falls feel like something out of a movie. Residents walk down the sidewalks, stopping one another just to talk—and probably gossip. I can’t imagine living somewhere else, but I’d forgotten the magic this place holds over the years. I’m starting to find it again, though.
“So,” Hayes says, interrupting my musings, “Want to tell me what has you in such a good mood? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad, but I have a feeling it’s more than just getting on the right medicine. Did something finally happen with you and Ivy?”
I keep my eyes on the road, but can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face. “I don’t kiss and tell.”
Hayes chuckles. “Yeah, but that stupid grin on your face just did.”
I shrug, unashamed, and continue our drive with it still on my face. The buildings on Main Street come into view, and I take my time rolling by them, soaking in the scene. They’re all older with brick exteriors and picture windows, but in good condition, considering their age. The town has spent a lot of money keeping them up, but as we drive further down the street, I notice that some of the buildings look different than when I was here three days ago. Colorful paint is tagged on the sides, and not like the kind Ivy is painting. Hers is a mural—commissioned because the town wants it to be there—this is just plain vandalism. I guess some people would argue that graffiti is a form of art, but in my book, it’s the destruction of property, no matter how talented the artist may be. And there’s no doubt that whoever tagged these buildings was talented. The painting is a mix of colors, forming aheart being ripped in two. It’s both beautiful and disturbing, but also illegal.
“Have you heard anything about this?” I ask Hayes, who has sat forward in his seat to get a better look.
“Not a word. It must have happened overnight because I was here yesterday, and it wasn’t like this.”
I stick my tongue in my cheek, thinking as I study the art and the area around it. Many businesses further down the street have cameras, but this end doesn’t. The buildings on this side of the old train depot haven’t been used for a couple of years. They’ve just been maintained as part of a beautification project funded by the Benton Birdies, a group of elderly women in this town who like to have a hand in everything—including my mom. I’ll have to call her to let her know what’s happened, and maybe convince her to have the Birdies install some security cameras.
“I’ll make some calls after we grab lunch,” I say to Hayes, continuing past the graffiti toward dinner. See if anyone saw or heard anything.”
“Sounds good. Maybe I can ask around there, too. You know Gail won’t have our food ready yet.”
I grunt in agreement because he’s right and then drive a few more blocks down the street, parallel parking right in front of the diner.
