Page 31 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)

Ivy

“ S o, John, you’re a lawyer, right?”

The Bryants arrived half an hour ago, and after a tour of the house I grew up in at Willow’s insistence, we are all gathered around the dining room table that’s only ever witnessed meals eaten in silence.

My grandparents always insisted on formal dinners in our home, in which I wore dresses that itched and shoes that were too tight on my feet.

Those meals were accompanied by a side of disdain and the bitter wish that we could be a family that genuinely cared about each other.

So hearing Campbell’s voice pierce the silence now startles me.

Looking up, I study his side profile as he waits for John’s answer. The strong line of his jaw. The stubble that covers it. Everything about him is masculine. Strong. And it does stupid things to my heart.

“I could never regret you, sunshine.”

Those words echo through my mind on a loop, and no matter how many times I try to push them away, they just keep playing.

They haunt me, right along with the way Campbell’s fingers brushed over my lower back when we were dancing.

I don’t know why I agreed to it—a momentary lapse in my sanity, I guess.

“Yes,” John answers, the strain in his voice undeniable.

Another silence descends, and I look back at my plate, pushing my food around as I try to figure out what to say. I spent the week having conversations in my head, planning them out, but now, words feel inadequate.

Jackie clears her throat. “Ivy, what do you do for work?”

She’s sitting directly opposite me at the table. Willow is sitting beside her, texting someone on her phone, but she looks up when Jackie voices her question, eyes landing directly on me.

“I—um—I paint actually.”

“Must pay well,” Kolton says from where he sits beside his dad. “This place is massive.”

“Kolton,” Jackie chides, but he shrugs.

“What?” he asks innocently. “It is.”

My lips pull up into a strained smile. “This place is my grandparents. I inherited it when they passed away. But to answer your question, yes, painting does pay pretty well for me.”

Kolton laughs, shoving food into his mouth and pointing a fork at his dad. “And to think, Dad, you told Willow she’d be broke if she studied art in school. Guess you were wrong.”

I look at Willow, ignoring the way John is glaring at his son. “You’re an artist?”

Willow shrugs. “Yeah.”

“What kind of art?”

“Painting.” Willow’s answer is flat, like she’s reluctant to tell me, and I sink a little lower in my seat, feeling stupid for asking.

Kolton snorts, and Willow shoots him a warning glare, a conversation passing between the two.

“What type of painting do you do, Ivy?” Jackie asks, interrupting the stare down between the two siblings.

“Classical mostly, but I’m working on a mural for the new community building here in town. It’s a little different than what I’m used to.”

Willow perks up. “So you’re getting paid to paint on a building?”

I force my face to remain neutral, afraid that if I react too quickly to her interest, she’ll spook.

“Kind of. They offered to pay, but I’m doing it pro bono. It’s something I feel pretty passionate about.”

Campbell’s sharp gaze jumps to mine, assessing me. “I didn’t know you were painting the mural.”

I smile, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

“I saw a flyer for it in the coffee shop. Lily Carson hired me.” The muscle in Campbell’s jaw jumps like he’s trying to put two pieces of a puzzle together, but he can’t make them work.

“Willow, if it’s okay with your mom and dad, maybe you can come check out the mural sometime.

It’s in the beginning stages right now, but it will get there. ”

I hope.

I’m still struggling. I have a concept. It’s just a vague idea in my head, but at least it’s more than I had a couple of weeks ago.

“Yeah, that’d probably be cool.” Willow’s phone lights up, and her attention is stolen away. She picks it up, frowning as her thumbs fly over the screen.

John’s mouth tightens into a thin line. “Willow, put the phone away, please.”

He’s polite when he asks, but it’s obvious his frustration is bubbling just beneath the surface.

We are all here for Willow, but she seems more interested in the conversation she’s having on her phone than being here, getting to know us like she insisted.

Offhandedly, I wonder if the person on the other side of that conversation is the boyfriend that John and Jackie aren’t fans of.

Cameron, maybe?

If that’s the case, I can see why they might not like him. Willow wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows the last time we were together, but she wasn’t constantly scowling at her phone, either.

Willow glares at John as she makes a show of putting her phone away, then she sits back in her seat and looks at Campbell. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I work at the Benton Falls Police Department. I’m an officer there, but I—uh—I’m currently on leave.”

My head snaps toward him.

“Why?”

Wondering about Campbell is like a reflex. It comes naturally, and I couldn’t stop it even if I tried because I’ve been doing it for years. But this is different. A sour feeling settles into my gut, turning the insides of my stomach over and over.

Campbell has wanted to be an officer for as long as I can remember.

He used to talk about it the same way Hayes used to talk about getting a scholarship to play football in college, and with that knowledge, plus the unfinished conversation from his truck still looming between us, I realize that feeling in my gut is fear.

Something about Campbell scares me, not of him—but for him.

Campbell’s jaw ticks faster. “I needed a break.”

The coldness in his voice is such an abrupt change from the softness it held when we were dancing in the kitchen that it gives me whiplash.

My head jerks back, and I pull my gaze away from his.

It’s the second time he’s shut me down and refused to talk.

Maybe I shouldn’t take it personally because it’s been a long time since we’ve been confidants, but it still stings anyway because once upon a time, I would have been.

And I miss having a connection with someone like that—the kind that’s not just about what they can do for you, but what you can do for them, too.

I’ve never had it with anyone else besides Campbell, not even Brecks.

Willow eyes us, too perceptive for a sixteen-year-old girl. “So—considering you didn’t know about this, I’m going to guess you aren’t together?”

Campbell’s shoulders go rigid, a bow pulled back tight.

“Um—no. We aren’t.” I avoid Campbell’s gaze, hoping Willow will move on to a new topic, but I should have known better. She’s Campbell’s daughter. Stubbornness runs in his veins, and apparently in Willow’s, too.

“So, what then? You both moved on? Forgot about each other?”

My empty ring finger burns. I look up from under my lashes, just enough to see Campbell staring at it, too.

“It’s complicated,” I say at the same time Campbell says, “Five hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred thirty-eight thousand, four hundred and thirty-eight.”

Willow’s brows press together. “What?”

Campbell meets my gaze, stealing the breath from my lungs. “That’s how many seconds I’ve been missing her,” he says, holding my eyes long enough I can see the sincerity in his before he turns to Willow. “I could never forget.”

Willow says something to Campbell, but I can’t make out what it is. His voice is still ringing in my ears.

Five hundred thirty-three million, eight hundred, thirty-eight thousand, four hundred and thirty-eight. That’s how many seconds I’ve been missing her.

He knew—down to the second. In the time it takes to get from one heartbeat to the next, Campbell flipped my life upside down.

Campbell glances back over at me, concern filling the ocean blue of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks silently, and I throw him back a look that screams, “What do you think? You just dropped a bomb in my lap, and I have no idea how to handle it.”

“So,” Kolton says, loud enough to break our attention away from one another. “How long have you been a cop?”

“Fourteen years.”

“That’s almost as long as Willow’s been alive. Is that why you gave her up—to pursue your dreams?” An undertone colors Kolton’s tone, defensive on behalf of his sister.

Campbell’s face turns red, and I watch his neck move as he tries to swallow. He looks at Willow when he speaks. “I didn’t give her up.”

“Uh, dude, yeah, you did,” Kolton says, but Campbell doesn’t look at him. He’s still staring at our daughter, begging for atonement for a sin he didn’t commit.

“Kolton,” Willow snaps. “Shut up.”

To his credit, Kolton clamps his mouth shut, realizing he’d pushed a little too far in the name of defending Willow.

“What do you mean you didn’t give me up?” Willow asks, then looks at me, staring me down. “Then it was your decision?”

“No.” I deny, needing her to understand, but I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t.

“Well, one of you made that decision,” she insists. “We are here, aren’t we?”

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, but she doesn’t move to take it out.

Her eyes stay on me, heavy with expectation, and for the first time since meeting her, I can see the vulnerability that hides behind her sarcastic comments and quick wit.

She may have the color of my eyes, but I’ve seen the void in her irises reflected in Campbell’s.

Like a magnet pulling me to him, I turn to Campbell, hoping he will be the one to lead this conversation, but he shakes his head, leaning in to whisper so only I can hear. “Tell your story, sunshine.”

My throat feels raw by the time I finally speak.

“My mom died when I was nine, and my grandparents, they—they weren’t like your parents,” I start, but then stop because I don’t know if there are words that accurately describe just how different my grandparents were.