Page 3 of Toxic Salvation
Instead, I take her hand again and pray that I haven’t sacrificed everything for nothing.
2
VESPER
When someone says my name from behind, I scream and spin around so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.
“Christ, Vesper!” Waylen hisses as I turn on him, his eyes wide with alarm. “I was saying hello, not trying to mug you.”
“Sorry.” I press my hand to my chest, willing my pulse to slow down. “I was distracted.”
“Yeah.” His jaw ticks with irritation. “You’ve been ‘distracted’ for weeks now.”
Before I can protest, he grabs my elbow and starts steering me down the hospital corridor. His grip is firm but not painful—the same way he used to drag me away from trouble when we were kids.
“Waylen, what are you doing? Let go of me.”
He doesn’t respond. Just keeps walking until he finds an empty stairwell and pulls me inside. The heavy door swings shut behind us, muffling the sounds of the hospital beyond.
“Okay.” He plants himself directly in front of me, blocking any chance of escape. “Start talking.”
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look defiant instead of terrified. “You didn’t have to kidnap me for this. The surgery went well. Mom’s stable. They still need to monitor her progress, but Dr. Nass is optimistic?—”
“I’m not talking about Mom,” he interrupts. “I mean, yes, I’m glad she’s okay. But right now, I’m talking about you.”
I’ve been dreading this conversation for weeks. I’ve known it was coming—I have watched Waylen get more suspicious with each passing day. He studies my face when he thinks I’m not looking. He asks careful, pointed questions about my health, my mood, my sleep, my dreams. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s hunting for, but he knows there’s something there—and I should’ve known I couldn’t keep him in the dark forever.
That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying, though.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Spare me.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare stand there and lie to my face. Not again.”
I try to sidestep him, but he moves to block me. “This is ridiculous. I’m fine. You’re fine. Mom is fine. Everything is?—”
He pulls out his phone. “You want to keep playing games? Fine. But I’m done pretending everything’s normal when you’re clearly falling apart.”
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Kovan.”
My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, the stairwell swims before my eyes. “You… you wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” His finger moves toward the screen. “I know you hate his guts right now, and trust me, I’m right there with you. But something is seriously wrong with you, and if you won’t tell me what it is, maybe you’ll tell?—”
“Wait!” I reach out to grab his wrist. “Don’t call him. Please.”
Waylen’s eyes narrow, but he lowers the phone. “Then talk. And I mean really talk, Vesper. No more deflecting. No more changing the subject. What the hell is going on?”
I lean back against the concrete wall, suddenly exhausted. The weight of the secret I’ve been carrying feels like it’s crushing my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got time.”
I study my brother’s face—the stubborn set of his jaw, the worry lines creasing his forehead. He’s not going to let this go. And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I’m tired of carrying this alone.
“It is about the breakup,” I admit finally. “But not in the way you think.”
