Page 15 of Salvation (Clover-Hills #1)

Blake

P assing my phone between my hands, I debate on what I should tell Vivienne when I call to break the news.

I’m sitting on the porch steps of my mom’s house, waiting for her to come home so I can share the news with her too.

She’ll probably keel over from happiness, and I can’t wait to see her reaction.

Jane and I spent hours going over the logistics of the home, and since she’s letting me keep all the furniture and everything else that was in the house, I can start to move in this weekend.

She’s no doubt quick and efficient, and I can’t help but appreciate it.

If she made me take a few days, I probably would have talked myself out of it.

Thankfully, Vivienne’s job pays well, and I had already paid-up front for a couple of months in rent, so she could afford me pulling out.

But the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her or make her angry for making such a huge decision without talking to her first. Vivienne has never actually visited Clover-Hills, even though Whitney lives here.

She grew up in the city, thanks to the fact that they have different dads.

The few times she’s even met Whitney have always been in the city.

What do I even say to her? “ Surprise, I’ve decided to stay indefinitely, even though I’ve spent half my life hating this damn town.”

Do I even plan to stay indefinitely? It’s not like I can’t sell the house if I truly want to go back to New York.

I sigh and drop my head into my hands, hating how much I overthink shit like this.

“Fuck it.” I say aloud and press her name.

I wait as it rings once, then twice, and then her voice filters through the phone with a chipper, “Hello, Darling!”

“I bought a house.” Cutthroat. Straight to the point. No point in tiptoeing.

She laughs loudly. “You’re funny. So, what’s up?”

“Viv, I’m serious.” I start to bite one of my nails and then whip it back down to my lap, irritated at how nervous I am.

“Um…okay.” Silence greets me from the other side of the phone, and I feel my nerves getting worse as each second passes.

My knee starts bouncing, and then she giggles again and says, “Did you at least make sure it’s a two-bedroom?

Because I’m going to be pissed when I visit, and I have to listen to you snore all night long. ”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips as I protest. “I don’t snore!” She hums, knowing damn well I do. “You’re not mad?" I ask, needing the reassurance.

“Babe. Why would I be mad? A little shocked, yes, but not mad. Never mad. If this is something you want, I want it for you, too.”

I sigh in relief and then wince when I say, “Will you be mad if I tell you it’s a one-bedroom?”

She pushes out a long breath like it’s the most devastating news she’s ever received. “I suppose it will be fine if you have one killer couch.”

“I love you. You’re too good to me.”

“I know. Now, tell me all about it. Do you have a hot neighbor?” I avoid the last part, because I have no idea who my neighbors even are, and tell her all about the house I stumbled upon during my run.

There’s a tone to her voice as we talk back and forth that tells me she’s dying to ask a few questions solely unrelated to me finding a house.

I debate on telling her just how well Whitney’s doing, but I decide it’s best if I don’t.

Even I can see it’s time that the two figure their situation out on their own.

They don’t need a mediator. We’re just finishing up the conversation as my mom’s familiar white jeep pulls into the driveway.

“Mom’s home. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Sounds good. Tell her I said hi. Love you!”

“Love you too,” I say and put my phone down by my side as my mom steps out of her car, purse and keys in hand. She sees me, and her face lights up with a smile that makes my heart warm.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey.” She sets down her stuff and sits next to me on the porch. I return her smile and say, “I have some pretty crazy news.”

“Bet it’s not any crazier than mine.” A flash of worry appears in her eyes, and I don’t stop the frown from working its way onto my face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but she nudges my shoulder. “You go first.”

“I bought a house. Just a few miles down the road.”

Tears fill her eyes as she looks at me. She nods and turns her head forward before meeting my eyes again and taking my hand.

“Your dad got out early.”

***

I spent the rest of the day hanging over the toilet, puking and puking until nothing was left.

Your dad got out early.

The sentence has been on a constant loop in my head for the past couple of hours.

And while my mom tried to explain the situation to me, it ended abruptly when I started this.

She now rubs my back as I dry heave into the toilet for what must be the 20 th time.

I lean back against the tub and bask in how nice the cool porcelain feels against my skin.

My father wasn’t arrested for beating me, no.

Nobody knew about that except for my mother, Whitney, and Vivienne.

He was arrested because after he woke up and found me gone, he showed up at my mother’s rehab center and trashed the entire place in a fit of rage.

Drunk driving, aggravated assault, and criminal mischief. But no child abuse.

I suppose that’s on me, as I made my mother promise not to say anything and to let me leave town with little protests. Not that she had much say when I turned eighteen. Even if she had tried, the police would have little to go on with said victim no longer even being in the same state.

Still rubbing my back, my mom murmurs, “Sheriff Eaton is still a good friend. Since he was released on probation, he won’t even be able to leave the rehab center he’s in, let alone come to Clover-Hills. You won’t see him, Blake.”

While it does ease some of the tension lining my shoulders, it does little to comfort me. Especially after my run-in with Jason. I haven’t told my mom about it, and I sure as hell won’t after hearing this news. She doesn’t need another thing to stress about.

A part of me misses my father and wants to forgive him.

He’s just a man who needed help and was never offered it.

He may have been violent and brutal in the end, but there was a time when he loved me more than anything else in his life.

That’s something I’ve come to terms with over the years.

But another part of me wishes he was six feet in the ground and never allowed to see the light of day again.

It’s morbid and a little dark, but it’s the truth.

I tip my head back and close my eyes. I have no idea what to say to her.

The woman should be as freaked out as I am, but she is unnaturally calm.

Just as she goes to open her mouth again, a knock sounds from the living room.

She looks from me to the door, indecision written all over her features. “I’m fine. Go see who it is.”

I hear a shuffle, and then what I assume is the front door swinging open. “Now’s not a good time.” I hear my mother’s voice say, followed by a gruff, “I just need to talk to her for a minute.”

At the sound of Wesley’s voice, I groan as a burning sensation crawls it way back up my throat and scramble my body back to the toilet, lifting the lid and emptying what little is left in my stomach again.

My mom protests, but he must have made it past her because his feet come into view a few short seconds later.

I groan again and bang my head against the toilet seat.

“Go. Away.” I growl.

“Oh, please.” Wesley says as he falls into a crouch at my side. “I was there when you got drunk for the first time. This is nothing.”

“What happened?” he asks, breaking the growing silence. I swear I can see a glimmer of worry in those blue eyes, but it’s gone in a second. And before my mom can open her huge, gossiping mouth, I snap, “Food poisoning.”

She gives me a weird look, but I shoot her a glare, and she holds up her hands, backing away from the doorway and thankfully leaving the topic alone. “I’ll grab you some ginger ale.”

Wesley has no idea what happened with my father, and it will stay that way. I made sure of that even after I had left town. I turn my attention back on him, his stupidly-handsome face putting me in an even worse mood than before. “What are you doing here?”

He holds out his hand with a smirk. “Hi. I’m Wesley. Your new neighbor.”

“What?” I smack his hand away. “Shut up.”

He just stares at me, still crouched with his forearms resting on his knees. If I wasn’t so dizzy and delirious from the amount of vomit that’s just left my system, I would probably be drooling from the way his arms look in his navy blue t-shirt. I close my eyes. “ Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I would never joke about something like this, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“You can’t be my neighbor.” He says matter of fact. I pop one of my eyes open at that.

“We literally lived next to each other for 18 years of our lives. And I can do whatever the hell I please, Conway.”

“This is different.”

“I already put a deposit down.”

“Un-deposit it, then.”

“You know that’s not how it works.” I can’t believe he’s sitting here and arguing with me after just witnessing me puke my brains out.

Only Wesley would be the type to not even bat an eye at something like that.

I look and feel disgusting right now, and he’s here in front of me looking like that.

The thought alone makes me see red, and I’m scowling at him.

Does he truly not know how to read a situation like this? Or does he genuinely not care?

“Leave.”

“Not until you tell me you’ll back out of the deal.” What the hell is his issue?

“It’s not going to happen. Now, leave before I castrate you.”

He only looks amused at my idle threat. “Or worse. Call your mother.” I add. That’s got him narrowing his eyes at me. He knows I’ll do it. It wouldn’t be the first time.He stands and stuffs his hands in his pockets. An anxious tick of his.

“This isn’t over,” he concedes.

I flip him the bird and then shoot him a wink once I see that scowl on his face. “See you Sunday, neighbor .”

Once he leaves, my mom appears back in the doorway with a mischievous grin on her face and a glass of bubbly liquid in one hand. “Don’t even start.” I moan.

She shrugs and hands me the glass. “At least you stopped puking.” She wrinkles her nose and then adds, “Speaking of, I’ll go grab a candle to light. ”

I don’t say anything else as she leaves or even when she comes back because she’s right.

As angry as I can, and will be at Wesley tomorrow, I am grateful for the small distraction he provided me.

I sip the ginger ale my mother brought me and think of all the ways I can make Wesley Conway’s life a living hell while living next door.