Page 64 of Salvation (Clover-Hills #1)

Blake

W esley toys with my hair as he lays behind me, snuggled up close and under the blankets with me.

We haven’t talked, just sat here, in this comfortable silence.

The evening light streams in through the bedroom window, and the heat of his body makes me never want to leave this bed.

My mom just left, having spent the majority of the day in Wesley’s place.

I know he was dying to see me after the whole ordeal, but he gave us our moment.

Something I appreciate more than he could ever know.

I turn my head over my shoulder, finding that he’s already watching me.

One hand is propped on his head. “Can I show you something?”

He nods, confused but refusing to question me. “I’ll drive.” He speaks.

***

“What is this?” Wesley asks as we pull into the driveway. “I’ve never been here.”

I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face, but I just exit the truck and make my way to the front of the house. He follows, quiet and unquestioning. Once we step inside, I go to stand in the middle of the living room, toying with my hands. I take in a deep breath and let it loose.

“There.” I point at the bottom of the staircase. “There was the first time he ever laid a hand on me.”

My father’s old house. It’s empty now. No one ever did anything with it. All the old furniture is still here. Everything was dusty, dead, and untouched. When he realizes what this is, what I’m giving him, his brows furrow, and he steps towards me.

“Blake, you don’t have to -”

“Yes, I do.” He snaps his mouth shut and doesn’t say anything more.

Doesn’t move. Just watches me. “He slapped me. Then he cried after it happened. Said it would never happen again. That it was a mistake. That he loved me and would never, could never do such a thing.” I suck in another breath. “I believed him.”

“And then there.” I moved to the open dining room and pointed at the table.

“I asked to go visit my mom, and he threw me down on it. Choked me until I nearly passed out. That time, he didn’t apologize.

” I turn toward the kitchen. “I dropped the take-out box he made me pick up for him. He slammed my head into the counter because of it.” My chin begins to wobble on that last word, but I keep going.

I move around the house, pointing out different spots.

Explaining what, when, and where the abuse happened.

It hurt to share it, it hurt even more to see how broken Wesley looked as I continued.

But it was also freeing. So, so freeing that I wish I had the courage to do this sooner.

I come to a stop in the middle of the living, next to one of the only windows facing the front.

“And here? Here is where I got this.” I stretch out my arm.

I haven’t even acknowledged the tears streaming down my face, not until he steps forward to wipe them away.

A few of his own slipped down his. “I…he caught me sneaking in. After our night out. He beat me so badly that I passed out. So, when I woke up and found him asleep, I ran. I ran all the way to Whitney’s, where she helped me get out. ”

“When I woke up, I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to leave. I…I knew I couldn’t say goodbye to you because I knew you’d follow me.

” A sob escapes my lips. “And I would never be able to live with myself if I was the one who took you from your mother. From Wyatt. They needed you more than I needed you. I love you, Wesley. I love you more than I can even begin to explain. Everything, everything was a blur when I left, but that? That never was. I loved you then, and I love you now. And I will love you for as long as you’ll let me. ”

He grasps my face, his blue eyes boring into mine, and I know with absolute clarity that the little blue house I stumbled upon isn’t home.

This town isn’t home. New York isn’t home.

Wesley is home. My home. My salvation.

And I will never run away from it. I’ll fight for it in the same way he always fought for me.

So, I lean my head against his, recalling those words he spoke to me so long ago. “Where you go, I go.”.