Page 1 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)
Campbell
Sixteen Years Old
I f I had a life before Ivy Cunningham, I can’t remember it.
Since the day she moved into her grandparents’ home, she has become an integral part of who I am. She is something special—something I knew I needed to hold onto with both hands and never let go of. So, I made her my best friend, and now she is more.
She’s everything.
Thunder booms off in the distance, and I tilt my head up to the sky to study it as I wait for Ivy at our spot.
With dark clouds looming and the sun starting to set, the sky looks like it’s on fire. A storm is coming, and it’s going to be a bad one.
Rustling from the trees draws my attention to the left, and moments later, Ivy appears in our clearing.
A willow tree sways in the wind behind me, its branches dancing as if they, too, can sense her presence.
This clearing is the place I first found Ivy.
She was crying, but she was beautiful. And maybe that’s why I shared my spot with her.
I held her hand as I led her beneath the branches of the willow tree, and from then on, my spot became hers.
As she walks toward me now, the wind blows her curls behind her. She’s wearing a sundress, revealing sun-kissed legs and pink-painted toes, and I repress a shiver as my gaze travels up, up, up until I meet my favorite brown eyes.
And then my world stops.
Her eyes are rimmed with red, puffy from crying. She sniffles, and my heart cracks because whenever Ivy hurts, so do I. Without Ivy, life is colorless.
Ivy reaches me, and I pull her into my arms. Her head falls to my shoulders, and the warmth of her tears soaks through my shirt.
“What’s wrong, sunshine?” I ask, stroking her hair.
Her breathing shudders as she pulls back to look up at me.
“I’m pregnant.”
Two words. That’s all it takes to change my life forever.
Another boom of thunder rolls above my head as I try to process what she is telling me. The thunder sounds like it’s inside my head, growing louder with each rumble, or maybe it’s my heart. I don’t know.
All I know is that Ivy is staring back at me, her honey-brown eyes begging me to say something. She deserves it—deserves my words and comfort—but I can’t force them past my lips. I’m frozen. Terrified.
How did this happen? We were safe. I protected her, yet somehow I didn’t. Ivy, the girl I’ve loved so long that I can’t remember when it happened, is pregnant with my baby.
“Say something,” she begs, tears streaming down her pretty face.
And I wish I could—wish I could tell her everything will be okay—but I can’t because I don’t know how to be what she needs.
Two words might have changed my world, but unfortunately, so does my silence. Ivy pulls from my arms, taking one step back and then another until the space between us seems insurmountable, and then she turns and runs.