Page 20 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)

Campbell

I don’t know how long I lie there on my mom’s lap, but eventually, I sit up, scrubbing at my eyes to avoid hers while embarrassment heats my cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was.”

“Campbell Dean Richards, you look at me right now.” She’s using the voice she always used to use when I was younger and got in trouble, and from experience, I know it’s in my best interest to listen to her because I wouldn’t put it past her to try to whip my butt, even though I am a grown man.

So I drop my hands and look at her with the urge to make a joke, and then run itching beneath my skin.

I don’t know what I expected to find on her face when I look at her. Pity. Disgust. A mixture of both. But neither is what I get. She’s looking at me with a tenderness I don’t deserve. She doesn’t know what I’ve done.

“Talk to me, baby,” she says, placing a hand against my cheek. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The dam finally bursts, and the truth comes spilling out.

“I have a daughter, Mom.”

“What?” She chuckles, but it’s more of a shocked chuckle than anything. So I continue.

“I have a daughter. She’s sixteen years old, and she lives thirty minutes from here. I—I didn’t know. Well, I kind of knew, but I didn’t know—”

“Campbell, baby, slow down, and talk to me. I don’t understand.”

“What’s going on?” My dad’s voice booms through the foyer, and I stiffen. I love my dad. He’s a good man, but emotions are not something he understands. Everything is black and white to him. There are no shades of gray.“Why are your eyes red, boy?”

“Allergies,” I lie, clearing my throat and silently begging my mom to go along with it.

Her lips tighten, but she doesn’t say anything—at least not about that.

“Campbell has something he needs to talk to us about,” she says, her eyes staying on me.

My dad grunts. “Isaiah called. He needs us to keep the kids. I was just coming to tell your mom that. Can it wait?”

A deep resentment blooms in my stomach, and I grit my teeth. Even when my world is crumbling, Isaiah always needs them more.

“Yeah, Dad,” I say, with sarcasm coating my tongue. “That’s fine. I can see how Isaiah needing his next fix would be more important than you finding out you have another granddaughter.”

I’ve never spoken to either of my parents that way, but I’m tired. So, so tired.

My dad stands gaping at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish searching for water. Maybe when I get home and look back on this moment, I’ll feel bad for the way I dropped it in his lap, but right now, I can’t find it in me to care.

Turning away from him, my gaze finds my mom, who is staring at me like her heart is breaking—but so is mine. It has been for a very long time, and no one has ever bothered to notice.

“I’ll see you guys around. I’ve got to go.”

“Campbell.” My mom steps forward, grabbing my arm, but I pull loose, shaking my head.

“No, Mom. Take care of Isaiah. We’ll talk later.”

There are tears in her eyes as I walk out the door.

______________________

The drive home is one of the longest in my life. My eyes burn from crying, my limbs feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each, and that gaping hole of darkness is growing wider and wider with each mile.

The bad day continues when I pull into my driveway. There’s a truck sitting in it that isn’t mine, and the man it belongs to is waiting for me on my front porch.

Honestly, it’s a miracle Hayes has gone this long without hunting me down, especially after I left him high and dry at the station.

We are partners. He has my back, and I’m supposed to have his.

But my head isn’t in the game right now, and being there would only lead to someone getting hurt.

My leave of absence wasn’t just for me. It was for him, too.

Cutting my engine, I drag my body out of the truck and up the steps to my front porch, falling into a rocking chair beside Hayes.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither do I. We sit and rock, and I’m thankful for the time to get myself together.

The rocking chairs creak under our weight, and the birds chirp as we rock. The sun is shining, and there are so many things I should be thankful for. But all I feel is a crushing weight.

“We need to talk.” Hayes is the one to break the silence.

With a resigned sigh, I know I’ve reached the point where I can’t run from this conversation any longer. “I know.”

“What’s going on with you, Campbell? And don’t give me the run-around this time. Please—just talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, I hold it in my lungs, letting it burn and burn until I can’t hold it anymore, and then I release it, all while Hayes watches me.

“I have a daughter.”

It’s the third time I’ve admitted it today, but I still can’t get used to the way the words feel in my mouth.

“With who?” The shock on Hayes’s face isn’t surprising. Ivy’s been the only girl I’ve ever loved.

Lifting one brow, I stare at him, waiting for him to figure this one out on his own.

“How—when—I just—why didn’t you tell me?” There’s hurt in his voice, and I look out at the front yard to avoid seeing it on his face.

“Because it’s complicated. I was trying to figure things out on my own before I dragged anyone else into it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hayes shoves out of his chair, pacing on the porch. His steps are hard—angry—but I keep rocking, letting him get it out. “We’ve been best friends since elementary school, and you thought this was something you needed to handle alone?”

I shrug. “It’s fine. I am fine.”

Hayes stops in his tracks, his face red and contorted with anger. “I’m trying hard not to punch you in the mouth. This isn’t something you do on your own, Campbell. When did you find out?”

Hayes is yelling, but I can’t find it in me to yell back. “In a way—sixteen years ago,”

“Sixteen years ago.” Hayes’s laugh is dry and humorless. “ Sixteen years.” He repeats. I think maybe he’s in shock. “You kept this to yourself for sixteen years?” His voice grows louder, but I’ve had enough.

The rage that’s been building bubbles over, and I explode. Everything goes black, and I have no idea what I’m saying, only that I need to get this out before I explode.

“Yes, Hayes, sixteen years,” I yell. “And do you know why? Because it’s how I handle everything.

Alone. People want the fun, clown version of me.

It’s easy for them. They don’t want to know that I have problems, too—that I’m smothering in depression and have been for a long time.

I learned a long time ago that it makes people uncomfortable.

But I can’t fake it right now. I don’t have the energy, so do us both a favor and get off my property.

” My shoulders heave up and down by the time I’m down, and the anger seeps out of me, leaving the hole behind.

I fall back into my seat, resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

Hayes’s boots thud against the porch, and part of me hopes it means he’s leaving; the other part is terrified of being alone. That’s when things are darkest. But he doesn’t leave, he walks back over to the chair beside me and sits down, the wood groaning beneath his weight.

“I didn’t know, Campbell.”

There’s nothing funny about this, but I find myself laughing anyway, cracking my chest in two just to feel something. The sound is so foreign in my throat that it comes out as more of a croak than a laugh.

“Yeah, Hayes. That was kind of the point. I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I don’t—I don’t expect you to always be happy. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way.”

I drop my hands and shake my head, staring out at the yard. There’s a bare spot where the grass needs to be reseeded. I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, but deep down, I don’t know that I’ll ever get the chance to see it grow.

“You didn’t, Hayes. Not really. I just—don’t feel anything.”

“Have you prayed about it?”

I can’t stop the snort that rips through my nose. I’ve prayed about it more times than I can count. But somehow that seems to be everyone’s solution—like I haven’t fallen on my knees and begged God to take away this overwhelming emptiness.

And isn’t that what I did to Ivy, too? Where does the line lie between unanswered prayers and losing faith?

I still believe in God. I can’t imagine losing my faith, but I can see why Ivy lost hers. It’s hard to keep believing when it’s a struggle to feel heard.

“Yeah. I’ve prayed about it.”

“I’m sorry, Campbell.”

I sigh, the exhaustion seeping in. “Me too.”

Boards creak. Birds chirp. Hayes clears his throat.

“Have you met her? Your daughter?”

That question feels like it’s burning me alive from the inside. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s happy, and I don’t want to disrupt that. She was adopted by a great family that loves her. She already has a dad. She doesn’t need another one.”

“That’s not true, Campbell. None of that’s true.” Hayes argues. “What about Ivy? She’s back now. You have a chance to have a family.”

A pained smile creeps onto my lips. “I wish that were true. I wanted it to be her. I wanted her to be the girl I married—the one I came home to every day—but wanting her hurts. And she no longer wants it to be me. She has someone else, so I’m never getting that family, Hayes, because if it’s not her, then it will never be anyone else either.

”Standing, I walk over to my front door, and only then do I look back. “Go home to your family. I’m fine.”

Then I walk inside, straight into the darkness, locking the door behind me.