Page 9 of Salvation
A full smile spreads across his face, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He’s enjoying this.
“Ivy’s back.”
My jaw twitches. Hayes blinks, and the air plummets.
“Okay,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.
Hayes blinks again, his smirk dropping.
“What do you mean, okay? Did you hear me? Ivy is back.”
Setting the coffee back down, I shove off my desk and turn my back to Hayes, tension radiating off my shoulders.
“I heard you.” My voice is a gruff warning not to pursue it, but unfortunately, Hayes doesn’t listen.
“Are you ever going to talk about it?”
“Are you ever going to mind your business?” I snap, spinning to face him. My shoulders rise and fall with each breath, and Hayes looks taken aback. I roughly wipe my hand over my mouth and look away.
I never told anyone what happened between Ivy and me. At the time, Hayes was suffering through his own things, and I—I guess I was ashamed of what I had done—of how I failed her.
“Sorry,” I say, looking back at him with a half-sheepish smile. It’s fake, but that’s not saying much. It usually is. “I didn’t have breakfast this morning. Do you have anything? You know I get a little hangry without food.”
It’s an attempt at humor, however thin it may be, but it must be good enough because Hayes slaps me on the shoulder, a grin on his face, and I try not to flinch.
“Come on. There’s probably food in the break room.”
I nod, starting to walk that way, but Hayes grabs my arm. Looking back at him, I quirk one brow in question.
There’s something in his eyes—something I can’t quite decipher—but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. Shaking his head, Hayes sticks his foot out and shoves my shoulder, tripping me. With a thud, I fall to the ground and lift my head to glare at him, but he’s already taken off, sprinting down the hall.
He doesn’t stop but calls over his shoulder. “We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”
Then he’s gone, disappearing into the break room to steal my food. I let my head drop back against the floor as he disappears because that’s what I’m afraid of.
Chapter 5
Ivy
I’ve been in Benton Falls for seven days, and a bone-deep restlessness has settled into my sternum, digging in deeper with each day that passes.
I haven’t left my house once. I’m a chicken, but I know how this town works. The moment I step outside, I’ll be bombarded with rumors about my return. Plus, it’s a small town, making it nearly impossible to avoid someone even when you try. Between the rumors and the possibility of seeing Campbell again, I’ve been hiding out. Only if I hadn’t gotten away from the starkness of those white walls, I might have gone insane. So I came up with a plan—or at least part of one.
Reaching up, I tuck my curls inside my hat and keep my gaze on the ground as I walk into the coffee shop, hoping no one notices me. A quick in and out—that’s all I need.
I’ve spent the last four days going through my grandparents’ things and trying to paint, and neither is going well. There are so many things to go through—things that I have no emotional attachment to—but when I think about throwing them out, guilt settles in my stomach. Usually, I can paint through those emotions—find the answer on the other side of a paintbrush—but I think I’m broken because no matter how hard I try, at the end of the day, my canvas remains blank, which is unfortunate since it’s my career.
That’s what I had been doing this morning, sitting in front of a blank canvas, willing myself to make a brushstroke, until my eyes crossed. The frustration was what finally drove me out of the house—that, and I needed caffeine.
I’ve just stepped through the door when I run into something solid. An unladylike grunt slips past my lips as two strong hands grab my upper arms.
“Well, if it isn’t Ivy Cunningham in the flesh.”
Looking up, I find myself staring into a pair of gray eyes.
“Hayes,” I say, with an awkward smile, stepping back so his hands fall from my arms. I always liked Hayes, but he was still always more of Campbell’s friend than mine. Outside of Campbell, I didn’t have anyone. I didn’t think Ineededanyone else. He was always good enough for me, but I sometimes wonder if things would have turned out differently if Campbell hadn’t been the only person I’d ever relied on. “It’s been a long time.”
Hayes’s eyes are assessing as he watches me, and I try not to fiddle with the hem of my jean shorts. I don’t know how much Hayes knows. Campbell never was much for sharing with anyone besides me, but our history wasn’t small—at least to me. To Campbell—well, maybe it was to him. It would have to be, considering everything he did.
