Page 27 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)

Campbell

M y world is spinning out of control, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

The words major depressive disorder are blaring inside my head like a neon sign I can’t look away from, all while I’m sitting in a room full of people—including the woman I’ve let down more times than I can count and my daughter, whom I have no idea how to relate to.

Except that’s not true, either, because apparently I do.

I’ve never gone to the doctor for my depression, but I know enough about it to know that it can be caused by genetics.

I retake my seat. Ivy tries to get my attention, but I don’t look at her. I don’t want her to see the shame burning in my eyes. It doesn’t stop her from staring at me, though. I can feel her gaze on the side of my face like the warmth of the sun outside.

Jackie sits beside her husband, while Kolton and Willow stay standing, a united force. John and Jackie have their hands full with those two.

Once everyone is in their place, Jackie turns to Willow. “Let’s start with you. I think you should start explaining, young lady.”

Willow crosses her arms over her chest, defensive.

“I saw them,” she says, nodding toward Ivy and me, “The day they were here—I saw them. Kolton and I came home, and Campbell’s truck was sitting in the driveway.

We thought it was weird. We know everyone you know because you never branch out of your social circle, so we snooped.

We waited for them to walk out of the house, and when they did, I saw her.

She looks just like me, and I was curious.

I wanted to know more, so I made Kolton follow them home.

I’d planned on asking you about them when we got back, but you two were arguing in the kitchen.

You’d already decided not to tell me, so I decided not to tell you what I knew.

Fair is fair since we’re keeping things from each other and all. ”

A bitter hurt coats her words, and I decide to stay quiet for this part of the conversation.

“First, don’t talk to your mother in that tone, Willow.

Second, we thought we were doing the right thing for you.

We were trying to protect you. I am your father, and that’s what fathers do.

They protect their little girls.” John says, and I wonder how many times a man can be stabbed and still survive.

“But—” he continues, “sometimes it’s hard to admit that you can’t protect your kids from the world. No matter how much you want to.”

Willow shakes her head. “You weren’t protecting me from the world, Dad. You were coddling me. I’m sixteen, and knowing them was my decision to make.”

“Maybe, but the truth is, we don’t know them, Willow.

They are strangers, and even if we had decided to tell you, I wouldn’t have let you just go gallivanting on your own to a stranger’s home.

Speaking of, how did you get there? Your car is in the garage.

Kolton said he dropped you off at a friend’s house.

” He stops, giving his son a pointed look.

“I did go to a friend’s house. They are just a good friend and didn’t question when I asked them to drop me off.”

John narrows his eyes. “What friend, Willow?”

Willow’s eyes go wide. She wasn’t expecting him to ask. Her attention jumps to me, begging me to jump in and help her out, but I shake my head. I told her I wouldn’t lie. Her fists clench, and she lifts her chin, her stubbornness setting in. She got that from Ivy.

Jackie must know Willow enough to see that she’s not going to answer that question because she places her hand on her husband’s arm and jumps into the conversation.

“John, let’s worry about that later. Right now, let’s focus on what we are going to do moving forward.

” Willow shoots her mom a grateful look, and Jackie smiles, pushing forward.

“Willow has made it clear what she wants, but I think it’s fair to say we still have concerns. ”

Her eyes are apologetic when she looks at Ivy and me, but there’s no reason for her to be. I would also have concerns if the roles were reversed.

“I think that’s fair, ma’am.”

Jackie gives a sharp nod. “Then we need to find a solution for moving forward that everyone can agree on.”

Ivy speaks up. “I—um—I might have an idea. If it’s okay.”

I hate the way she questions herself. I place most of the blame for that on her grandparents, but I also can’t help but blame a man I don’t know because if things were different and I were her fiancé, I’d spend every day building her up, making sure she knows she’s the sun.

“Sure,” Jackie concedes, “Let’s hear it.”

“I was thinking maybe we could have dinner at my house in Benton Falls. It would give us a chance to get to know each other. We can tell you our story. You can see where we are from, and maybe after that, if you’re comfortable with it, we can start to get to know Willow a little more.”

As far as solutions go, it’s a pretty good one.

“Please let them agree, God.”

Jackie looks at her husband, and I hold my breath, every muscle in my body tightening. A silent conversation passes between the two, and the moment seems to stretch out for eternity. Eventually, John sighs, running his hand down his face, and says, “Okay.”

Ivy looks at Willow. “What about you, Willow? Is that okay with you?”

Everyone waits for Willow’s answer, but she takes her time, picking at her nails before she looks up. “Yeah, I guess that’d be cool.”

______________________

“Are you going to explain what’s going on with you?” Ivy asks as I drive her home.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.”

It’s a lie. I do know, but it’s easier to play oblivious.

“I never took you for a liar, Campbell Richards.”

I snort like there’s something funny about all of this, but the truth is, there isn’t. “You don’t know me anymore, Ivy, just like I don’t know you. It’s been sixteen years. We’ve changed.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Ivy shake her head, but I still refuse to look at her because if I do, she’ll know I’m a liar. Because there isn’t a world that exists where my soul doesn’t know hers. She’ll always be embedded in mine, no matter how much time passes.

A sharp pain knicks my ear, and I let go of the steering wheel with one hand to cup it.

“Did you just flick my ear?” I ask, more shocked than anything as I finally face her head-on for the first time since we left her house earlier, and the sight of her hits me directly in the chest. The sun is setting on her side, the rays peeking through the window and turning her curls golden.

Ivy smirks. “Yeah, I did because you are being bull-headed. Maybe it’s been sixteen years since we’ve seen each other, but I can still be your friend, Campbell.”

Being friends with Ivy sounds like the worst torture a man could ever live—at least for me—because I’ve always wanted more.

My chance was lost through time and deceit, but when I think about it, not having her in my life again might be a torture worse than trying to be her friend.

So I give in, knowing that I never had a chance of resisting anyway.

“Do you know major depressive disorder can be genetic?” I look back out the front windshield, watching the road, but I can still see her out of my peripheral.

“No,” she says slowly as if trying to figure out where I’m going with this, and I wait because I know she’s smart enough to figure it out. When I don’t say anything, her brows scrunch together, and her eyes drift to my hand. Then, like a light goes on inside her head, she gasps.

“Campbell—” There’s so much sadness in her voice that it makes me want to plug my ears so I don’t have to hear it. I don’t want her to be sad for me.

“Don’t, Ivy,” I warn, turning the wheel to pull into her driveway.

“Don’t what, Campbell? Don’t care?”

I pull the truck to a stop and slam my hand down against the steering wheel. “Yes,” I growl. “Because I won’t survive it. Not again.”

“Campbell, I—” A knock pounds on my window, and Ivy and I both jump, cutting off our conversation.

I turn to find my mother standing by my door with my father behind her, studying the ground.

His ears are red, and he looks like he would rather be anywhere but here.

If I were to guess, I’d say my mom dragged him out here by the ear.

So far, I’ve managed to avoid them since dropping the bomb in their lap about having a daughter.

Mom motions for me to step out of the truck, and I turn to Ivy. “I’m sorry in advance.”

It’s the only warning I give her before opening my door and climbing out of the truck because the war with my mother seems a lot easier to manage than the conversation Ivy was trying to have.

“Hi, Mom,” I say carefully, watching for her reaction.

“Hi, Mom…HI, MOM. That’s all you have to say to me. I’ve sat around and worried about you, and the best you can come up with is ‘hi, mom?’”

Each word is louder and louder, and there’s a feral look in her eye that has me taking a step back for my own safety. Over her shoulder, my dad’s eyes grow wider. Feral Della Rae is a side neither of us has seen from my mother. A truck door slams, and Ivy rounds the front of my truck.

“Hi, Della Rae.”

Something flashes in my mother’s eyes—a spark of understanding—as her gaze jumps from me to Ivy and back again.

I’d told her my daughter was sixteen, and it wouldn’t have been hard for her to figure out who the mother was from there.

But I think seeing Ivy standing beside me confirms it for her.

My mom’s gaze stops bouncing between us, landing on me.

“Campbell, I think it’s time we talked. Don’t you?”

I rub the back of my neck, knowing my time of peace—if it can be called that—is up. “Yeah, Mom. I guess we should.”

“I’ll just be going,” Ivy says. “It was good seeing you again, Della Rae.”

She spins, ready to sprint inside, but my mother’s voice brings her to a halt. “I think this conversation involves you, too, young lady. You get back here.”

Slowly, Ivy turns back around, looking like a scolded puppy with her head tucked down as she avoids my mom’s gaze.

“Now, would someone like to explain how, after sixteen years, I’m just now finding out I have a granddaughter?” Mom’s hands go to her hip, her foot tapping out a steady beat as she waits for our answer, and I wince at her bluntness.

I haven’t had a chance to tell Ivy that my parents know about Willow, not since I showed up at her house to find our daughter there.

When I look over at Ivy, though, she doesn’t look mad.

Instead, she almost looks relieved. Ivy’s always had a good relationship with my mom.

I never thought about how hard it would be for Ivy not to have her to confide in.

My fingers curl into fists, and all I want to do is slam them into something. We were robbed—all of us. And there’s no one to blame for the injustice of it all, but I’m still angry anyway.

“Because we don’t talk about our problems, Mom, “ I spit out. “We gloss over them and pretend they don’t exist. We’re still doing that with Isaiah.

” I look at my dad over my mom’s shoulder.

“We’re supposed to be men, and men man up and fix their problems on their own.

That’s what you always taught me to do, and it’s what I did.

I tried to at least, but I was sixteen. A kid. Not a man.”

“Now, Campbell, I never meant you couldn’t talk to us .”

I shrug, still burning up from the inside. “Maybe not, but that’s how it felt.”

My dad opens his mouth as if he has more to say, but it comes as no surprise when he clamps it shut again and shakes his head.

I refuse to look away from him, though. Logically, I know this isn’t his fault.

The only two people to blame are dead and gone, but logic rarely prevails in the face of anger.

And I need someone to be angry at. So I keep his gaze, not backing down from this emotion coursing through my veins.

My chest heaves up and down, hating the man in front of me for making me feel weak—and hating myself even more for that hatred.

A soft hand presses against my arm, and I turn my head to find Ivy staring at me. The anger melts away, and sadness replaces it, washing over me until I’m drowning in it. But I guess at least I’m not numb—not right now, anyway.

I rip my gaze away from hers, feeling too raw and exposed with her eyes on me.

My mom is staring at us with a look I can’t read.

She looks like she knows something. At least someone does because I feel like I know nothing anymore.

Everything I thought I knew has been turned upside down and emptied out, and now I’m walking through life blind.

I blow out a breath, unable to take my mom’s knowing look anymore, either.

“Look, for now, all you need to know is that we were lied to. Ivy and I both thought our baby had died, and talking about it wasn’t going to change anything.

But things have changed, and there’s an opportunity for us to be in her life now.

We are going to have dinner with her adoptive parents next week so they can get to know us better.

They are good people—good parents from what I can see—but they have questions. And so do we.”

“Alright,” Mom says, clapping her hands. “I’ll make my pasta salad.”

Ivy fidgets beside me, and I already know what she’s thinking. If my mother is involved, the whole community will be involved. It’s just the way she is, but this is our chance to get to know Willow, and I won’t have it ruined by a bunch of nosy busybodies.

“That’s okay, Mom. We have it handled.”

She looks as if she wants to argue, but I cut her off, placing my hand on Ivy’s back. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your door.”

As we walk away, Ivy leans in closer, the smell of jasmine wafting over me, and whispers, “Thank you.”

Sadness grips my throat and squeezes. On instinct, I reach up, wrapping my favorite curl around my finger and tug before I place a kiss on the top of her head. “I’ve got you, sunshine.”

And I guess it’s better late than never.