Page 32 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)

Willow arches a brow, but says nothing, waiting for me to continue. When I hesitate, Campbell reaches over, squeezing my hand. An electric shock sparks from my arm into my chest, and I reach up with my free hand, rubbing it away.

Five hundred thirty-three million—

Sucking in a deep breath, I push forward, reminding myself of the history between us that makes that shock so dangerous.

“Appearance was everything to my grandparents. They valued their reputation over everything else, and getting pregnant at sixteen made them look bad.”

“So what? They made you give me up?” Willow asks incredulously.

“Not exactly,”

“Then what?” She demands. “Just tell me.”

Willow tucks her hands beneath her legs, but it does nothing to hide the way her body trembles. Jackie stretches out an arm, wrapping it around her, and it feels like I’m being gutted.

A single tear slips from the corner of my eye. I reach up, wiping it away. Taking a slow, deep breath, I blurt it out before I lose my nerve. “They told me you died.”

Jackie sucks in a breath, covering her mouth with her hand, and John turns ghost white.

“What?” Willow asks, her mouth hanging open.

“They lied, forged my signature, and told me you died. I’ve been grieving you for sixteen years, only to find out you’ve been here all along.”

______________________

No one says anything. Jackie and John look shell-shocked. Kolton’s mouth hangs open, and tears line Willow’s lashes.

The silence is a crescendo, and when it peeks, hell breaks loose.

John stands, his chair screeching against the ground. “We are leaving.”

Willow’s head whips his way. “What? Why?”

“Because, Willow, they are claiming fraud. FRAUD. You are our daughter. I can’t—I can’t let them take you.” John’s voice breaks as tears stream down his face in a steady stream.

Jackie reaches over, grabbing John’s hand and tugging him back into his seat.

“Sit down, honey,” she says softly. He stares at her a minute, his throat working up and down, before finally relenting and sitting back down.

He sighs. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened to you, but we went through all the correct legal channels to adopt Willow. It’s just a shock.”

I nod, fully understanding that feeling.

“I know. It was for us, too.” I say, looking over to Campbell, who nods.

“When my grandmother passed away, she left a letter explaining what they did. I don’t know why she chose to write it—maybe it was some final absolution—I just know she did.

And I knew that I needed to know Willow—in whatever capacity that looks like. ”

Campbell’s deep voice rumbles beside me. “We don’t plan on taking you to court. We understand you raised her, and we are thankful for that. We just ask that you try to understand where we are coming from, too, and let us be in her life.”

John’s jaw jumps, ticking up and down as he grits his teeth.

Slowly, he turns his head to Willow, the tears on his face matching those in her eyes.

“I think it would be good for you to see Ivy work on that mural.” His voice cracks.

It must have cost him a lot to say that, but when Willow’s face lights up with a grin, so does his.

It’s evident that whatever the cost, it was worth it to him.

Willow reaches out, slinging her arms around John’s neck. “Thanks, Dad.”

Campbell shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and without thinking, I reach out, placing my hand over his like he’d done earlier for me.

Willow is still hugging John when the doorbell rings. I startle, knocking my knee against the underside of the table, and Campbell’s brows press together.

“Are you okay?” He asks, leaning closer. His voice is pitched into a deep whisper.

I was—until I heard his voice like that.

“Um-yeah. I’m fine. I’d better go check to see who is at the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone.” I let my hand fall from him and apologize to Willow and her family. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

They all nod agreeably, and I walk away with Campbell’s gaze searing into my back.

Five hundred thirty-three million—

I don’t think I’ll ever forget how he looked at me in the moments after he said that—with a stark, desperate yearning that terrifies me.

On my way to the front door, I pass my grandparents Bible that’s still sitting on the end table on my way to the front door.

I make sure to glare at it as I walk by.

I’ve spent a lot of my time going through their stuff and getting rid of it, but I’ve not been able to make myself get rid of that book yet.

I keep telling myself it’s because it’s a reminder of the hurt I experienced at their hand, but sometimes I wonder if maybe it’s something else.

Before I realized the hypocrisy of my grandparents’ religion, I used to love going to church.

Sometimes, when I can’t ignore the loneliness, I think back to how I always felt it a little less when I sat in a pew in the small church here in Benton Falls, but the more I sat by my grandparents’ side, the more I realized that the things the preacher talked about on Sunday were really just pretty words to make people like them think they were living the better life—that they were better.

Refusing to dwell on it too long, I quicken my steps so it’s behind me. With a twist of my wrist, I open the door, and then freeze.

“Well,” Brecks says, “I can’t say that was the reaction I was expecting after not seeing my fiancé in over two months.”

Brecks is standing on my porch in a suit and tie.

His flashy car sits behind him in the driveway, and despite the fact that it would have taken him several hours to drive here after a long day at work, nothing about him is out of place.

Not his blond hair. Not his chiseled, beardless jaw.

Not even his expensive clothes. A perfect puzzle piece to maintain the reputation Henry Cunningham expected of his family.

Except I was the one who never quite fit.

It always felt like I was the piece that was being forced in, all my unique edges crumpling until I at least partially resembled what was expected.

Brecks lifts his arm, scratching at the back of his neck with a boyish grin. I’ve seen him use that grin a thousand times since we started dating. It’s sweet and unsuspecting—a smile he picked up from my grandfather when he learned to play the game.

“What are you doing here, Brecks?” I ask, glancing behind me to make sure no one followed before stepping out onto the porch and shutting the door.

“I don’t know, Ivy,” he says, dropping his smile, “maybe I came to bring my fiancé home. This was supposed to be just a quick trip for you. Now it’s been over two months.”

“No, B. I never said it would be a quick trip. I told you I had things I needed to handle here, and then those things turned into something bigger. I found out my daughter is alive—that my grandparents lied to me. How can you not understand how significant that is?”

“Ivy—” he says my name like a warning, then stops, his eyes zeroing in on my empty finger. “Where is your ring?”

“Brecks,” I plead, needing him to give me a reason to still want this—to prove me wrong for questioning us. “My daughter is alive, and she’s sitting right inside my house. Is that really less important to you than whether I’m wearing my engagement ring or not?”

The question ends on a whisper, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to be the man I need him to be. I don’t know why it comes as a surprise when he proves he can’t. I guess it’s because it feels like I’ve been waiting for someone to be that man my whole life.

“Ivy, is this because of him ?”

A tear slips down my cheek, and I reach up, swiping it away with a humorless laugh on my lips.

“No, B,” I say sadly, “This has nothing to do with Campbell.”

And it’s true. We created the fractures between us. They were there long before I came to Benton Falls. We wore rose colored glasses, hoping they were enough. But my glasses are off, and I can’t put them back on.

Brecks’s face morphs, the anger in his eyes reminding me just how much of my grandfather’s puppet he became before he passed.

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice rings out through the air as his hand comes down, landing on the door behind me. He steps closer, crowding me into place.

Suddenly, it swings open, and I spin around, coming face to face with a furious-looking Campbell. The blue of his irises is heated with fire as he glares over my head.

“What’s going on here?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. He’s a man who doesn’t have to raise his voice to get his point across. It’s obvious enough from the threat in his eyes.

Behind me, Brecks snorts. “Yeah, nothing to do with him at all. Right, Ivy?”

I glare over my shoulder. “Yeah, Brecks,” I snap, “that is right. Not that you’ve been listening.”

He clamps his mouth shut, and I turn back to Campbell. “Is there something you need?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps—once, twice, three times—before he pulls his heated glare away from Brecks and looks down at me. The fire diminishes, turning into something softer.

“ Are you okay? ” his eyes ask, and I hate myself for being able to read them. So I pretend I can’t, clearing my throat as I wait for him to speak. He sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Willow and her parents need to start heading home. I came to get you so they could say goodbye.”

“Okay, I’ll be right in.”

I expect him to walk inside and close the door behind him, but he doesn’t. He hesitates, looking back over my head with a warning in his eyes.

“Go, Campbell,” I say, shoving at his chest, but I might as well be shoving at a brick wall for as much as he moves. “I’m fine.”

At my insistence, he looks back down at me one last time, letting his eyes roam over me before gritting his teeth and doing as I ask. The door shuts with a click behind him, and I take a deep breath, slowly turning to face Brecks. He’s glaring at me with accusation in his eyes.

“Brecks, do you realize you haven’t called me since I told you I have a daughter?

” He shakes his head, ready to deny it, but I put up my hand, stopping him.

“No, B. It’s true. We haven’t talked in weeks—not since that day—and it isn’t because I haven’t tried.

I’ve called you over and over again. You don’t answer. ”

“I’ve been busy,” he protests, but it’s not good enough. Not anymore. There are so many unknowns in my life, but this is no longer one of them.

“And maybe I would have been okay with that before, but I’m not anymore.

I’ve changed—or maybe it’s that I’m finally remembering who I am—but either way, I can’t marry someone who doesn’t love me enough to be by my side while I fight my battles.

This has nothing to do with him,” I say, glancing back over my shoulder, “but everything to do with me. I’m choosing me, B. ”

Like water over a fire, the anger in his gaze fizzles out. “I loved you,” he says, running his hand over his face. “But you’re right, I can’t stand by your side for this battle. I didn’t sign up to be a dad to someone else’s kid.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“No, but maybe I was scared you would.”

I laugh, but it’s humorless. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?

Brecks smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We could have been.”

“I don’t think so, B.” My throat aches, but I swallow around it, refusing to break down here.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” When he straightens back up, he holds my face in his hand. He nods to where Campbell disappeared inside.“You should tell him.”

My brows furrow, the warmth of his hand bringing more tears to my eyes. “Tell him what?”

“That you’re still in love with him.” I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t force the words out. “It’s okay, Ivy. Truly. Because he’s in love with you, too.”

Leaning down one more time, he wipes away my tears and leaves me with one more kiss on my cheek. His hand falls away, and I watch him walk to his car, get in, and not look back.

And only once his taillights disappear do I whisper into the night air. “Bye, B.”