Page 3 of Salvation
It’s a stab in my chest, and she doesn’t even know it.
I sigh again, letting it go because no matter what I say about the situation, she’s never going to listen to me. Between my older brother and younger sister, Ali, my voice gets drowned out in the noise of their chaos.
“Did you need something, Mom? You called me. We had a game tonight, so I’m just getting home to return it.”
“I just wanted to see how you are doing, honey. That’s all.”
Warning signals go off in my head. It’s not that she never calls to check on me. She does, but my relationship with my parents is weird. I’ve always been independent, mostly because I was forced to be. With two other kids who constantly need them, I try to make life easy on them so they don’t have to worry. I keep my problems to myself because I can see how much the stressfrom my brother and sister weighs on them. I think they don’t know what to do with me because of that. So when she calls, there’s always a reason behind it—more than just to check on me.
“Uh-huh, and what’s the real reason?” I ask, a bit of teasing in my voice, ever playing the part.
“Fine. There’s this girl.”
“Nope.”
“Campbell.”
“No.”
“You’re going to die an old and lonely man, son. I need grandkids.”
I snort. Blackmail is my mom’s favorite tactic, but she’s terrible at it.
“You have grandkids.”
“I need more.”
“I think Liam and Indy are enough.”
It’s true. The twins are a handful, constantly coming up with tricks and playing them out together. They’ll get arrested before they turn sixteen at this rate. Don’t get me wrong, I love them, but they are free-spirited. What I don’t add is that even if I were to find a girl, settle down, and get married, kids wouldn’t be a part of the equation. Not after—I shake my head, clearing the thought before it can go too far. The ice in my veins spreads a little further.
A long sigh crackles over the phone into my ear. “I worry about you, Campbell.”
“There’s no need to, Mom. I’m happy.”
It’s a lie. I haven’t been happy since the day Ivy left Benton Falls, but that’s a story I never told my mother or anyone else.
Another scream comes from the background.
“Liam,” my mother yells, and I have to pull my phone away from my ear so the volume doesn’t pierce my eardrum. “Do not slide down that banister. You’ll break your neck.”
I make a note to thank my nephew later because I use his distraction as a way to end the conversation.
“Go take care of him, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”
A beat of silence passes, like she’s torn between what’s happening in her home and talking to me. I make it easy on her.
“I promise, Mom. I’m fine. I have to go.”
I hang up the phone and set it on the table beside my keys before she has a chance to argue.
With the conversation over, I slip my shirt over my head and make my way to the bedroom. There’s a record player in the corner, and I stop there, sliding a record out of its cover and putting the needle in place.
A slow melody floats through the room—a sweet torture that I only listen to on the days IseeIvy, when I let my mind wander to where she might be and if she’s happy. Maybe she’s angry, or maybe she’s numb like me. Except when it comes to her, I’m not numb at all. It’s the opposite. Instead of feeling nothing, a hundred emotions rush through my veins, racing to be the one that hits my heart and finally kills me.
Throwing my shirt into the dirty clothes hamper, I discard the rest of my clothes, grab a gray pair of sweatpants, and slide them on.
I’m just about to jump into bed when the doorbell rings. My eyes flick to the alarm clock on my bedside table, and my brows furrow. It’s almost eleven o’clock at night. Hayes is the only person who ever comes to my house, but never at this time.
