Page 97 of Salvation
“Do you want her to?”
A small sniffle escapes her, and I see the way she hates herself for it.
“Maybe,” she shrugs.
“Why?”
Bright, hot anger flashes through her eyes. “Because I hate her,” she yells. “And I hate you, too.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s true, Willow.”
“IT IS,” she insists, the volume of her voice echoing around us. Tears stream from her eyes, but she makes no move to push them away. “It is true because you were supposed to fix me. You guys were supposed to fill this hole inside me. I thought—I thought if I met you—that if I got to know you—that I would—that I would—” She stops, unable to say it, so I do it for her.
“That you wouldn’t feel so lonely.” She nods, wiping her nose with her hoodie sleeve. “It gets better, Willow. I promise. I’ve been where you are, and it gets better.”
“No,” she says, taking a step away from me. She wobbles on the edge, and my heart drops to my stomach before she regains her balance and looks at me. “I don’t think it does, and I’m tired of hurting.”
“Willow,” I plead, a paralyzing fear numbing my legs. “I promise, baby. It gets better. Just let me help you.”
Indecision wars on her face as she looks from me to the ground below and back again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “For everything.”
Everything happens in slow motion after that. A pair of headlights flash across Willow’s face, grabbing her attention right before she’s about to jump. I take advantage of the distraction, closing the distance and throwing my arms around her waist so I can drag her to the ground with me.
“Let me go,” she screams. “Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.”
Her back is to my chest, but it doesn’t stop her from fighting me. She kicks and punches and jerks away, but I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight.
Eventually, her fighting turns into sobs, and she goes limp in my arms. Her head falls to my forearm, and I stroke her hair, letting her cry.
“It hurts, Dad. Everything hurts. And I just want it to stop.”
It’s the first time she’s called me dad. The first time I’ve really felt like one.
“I know, baby. I know.”
Footsteps run our way, and when I lift my head, the rest of my world is running toward me, tears streaming down her face.
Chapter 40
Campbell
Six Months Later
Irun up a set of stairs, glancing at my watch. I’m late, and it’s all Zane’s fault.
Toward the end of my shift, I’d been working a small wreck, which had also involved the fire department, and just like every other time there is something to gossip about in this town, Muriel and Ethel had shown up. They had spotted Zane first, and I had been content to let him deal with the two troublemakers. But, somehow, he’d managed to talk them over to me, and then he’d promptly disappeared. I spent an hour trying to escape their clutches, but it’s okay. I’ll bide my time and get my payback when he least expects it.
Bursting through the doors, I find six eyes staring back at me.
“Wasn’t it you who told me not to be late?” Willow quips as I take a seat on a brown leather couch beside Ivy.
Kissing Ivy’s cheek, I turn back to our daughter. “Yeah, but I’m an adult.”
Willow huffs, but a secret smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Barely.”
This is my favorite part of our relationship, and six months ago, I was terrified I would never get it back. She was angry with me for saving her. After Ivy had shown up, I carried Willow to her car, and I held her in my lap all the way to John and Jackie’shouse. Once we were there, the four of us sat down together and came up with a plan. We started by enrolling Willow in a four-week program that focused on getting her on the right medicine and starting therapy. She was angry about that, too, not just at me, but at everyone. I was the one who took the brunt of her anger, though. It took almost a full month before Willow would talk to me again, but I kept showing up, taking the punishment. I needed her to know that I wasn’t giving up on her, no matter what. Our relationship is slowly starting to heal.
