Page 36 of Salvation (Rising From the Ashes #3)

Campbell

Sixteen Years Old

I t’s been one million, two hundred and nine thousand, six hundred seconds since I last saw Ivy, and I think I’m dying.

After she left, I started the stopwatch on my phone, counting the seconds until I saw her again, and it’s been counting them ever since.

Every breath I take feels like sharp knives stabbing into my lungs.

I was too shocked to go after her that day in the clearing.

I didn’t know what to say, so I went home intending to talk to my parents—to get a plan together before I spoke to Ivy.

I didn’t want to freeze again, but when I’d gotten home, my parents were already dealing with Isaiah, who’d shown up high again.

I decided right then and there that I wouldn’t put any more pressure on them.

I was man enough to choose to have sex, and I’d be man enough to make decisions moving forward.

It was already late by the time I came to that conclusion, so I decided to wait until the next day to see Ivy.

But that had been another mistake because when I knocked on the front door, the Cunninghams’ maid had been the one to answer.

And for the second time in two days, my world had been rocked when she delivered a message—Ivy and her grandparents had left, and they weren’t coming back.

I’ve spent every day since then trying to call Ivy.

Her cellphone has been disconnected, but she once gave me the number for their home in Florida.

I’d never used it because it was rare for Ivy to leave Benton Falls.

Usually, only her grandparents traveled to that home, but it’s the only place I know to look for her.

After a week of nameless maids answering the phone and leaving messages with no returned phone calls, I finally sent a letter.

Then I waited. When a Florida number appeared on my phone two days ago, I rushed to answer it, but it wasn’t Ivy on the other end. It was Henry Cunningham.

He said he was returning to Benton Falls for a few days and wanted to meet. I’ve never liked the man, but I’d do anything to know that Ivy’s okay. So I agreed and then spent the last two days preparing what I would say to him.

I gave Ivy a ring on her sixteenth birthday, promising her forever, and it’s a promise I intend to keep. With his permission, I plan on asking Ivy to marry me. Then everything will be better.

Standing in front of the Cunninghams’ door, I raise my hand and knock, stepping back and shoving my hands in my pockets as I wait.

A chill is starting to permeate the air as fall is slowly slipping into winter.

Soon, the whole world will be bleak with it, but for now, I take in the last of the leaves, still clinging to the tree, needing something to focus on.

There’s one tree with leaves that are all red, not a single other color on it.

And as a leaf falls, it almost looks like it’s weeping blood.

I follow the movement of it falling until it hits the ground, and for a reason I can’t explain, my stomach sinks.

At the sound of the door creaking open, I lift my gaze, staring into the hard, cold eyes of Henry Cunningham.

He’s dressed in a suit, just like he’s always been every time I’ve seen him, and although I dressed up for this in a pair of dress pants and a button-up shirt, he still looks at me like I’m a bug beneath his feet. And for once, I don’t blame him.

“Sir,” I say, as he continues to eye me, “May I come in?”

“That would be prudent. I tend not to take my meetings on the front step,” he sneers, stepping aside so I can walk through the front door.

I keep my hands in my pockets as I walk by him, and even though I can feel the heat running, it still feels colder in the house than it did outside.

I’ve been in the Cunninghams’ house a handful of times—and it’s never felt warm—but seeing it stripped down to just the furniture and a little bit of decor, it almost feels desolate.

“We’ll talk in my office,” Henry’s voice booms behind me. I nod and step aside so he can lead the way. He looks down his nose at me as he walks by.

With each footstep I take, my heart kicks up its speed. My hands are sweating, but I keep them where they are so I’m not tempted to wipe them off on the front of my pants.

The office is just down the hall. Our footsteps echo on the wood floor as we draw closer. I walk through first, and Henry shuts the door behind us. The sound of the latch clicking into place sounds like a death knell.

I stand by the door, hovering uncomfortably as Henry walks over to his desk and sits behind it. When he notices I’m still standing, he motions to the seat in front of him impatiently. “Sit.”

His voice fills the office, bouncing off the walls and sounding more like he is speaking to a dog than a human.

Gritting my teeth, I do as he asks, knowing that it won’t help the situation to argue, but it also gives me one more reason to add to my list of reasons for wanting to marry Ivy, not that I need it.

I’ve been compiling reasons to marry Ivy since I was nine.

At that age, my list contained only one—she was my best friend—but now, I can list a hundred.

Her laugh. Her smile. Her kindness toward others.

It’s all there, on a list I keep on my phone.

Once I’m sitting, I place my hands in my lap and meet Mr. Cunningham’s stare head-on.

He expects to intimidate me here, but I won’t let him.

I came for two things—to make sure Ivy’s okay and to leave with permission to marry her—and I’m not leaving until I get them.

So I start with the easiest one, hoping it will break the ice. “Is Ivy okay, sir?”

His fingers are steepled together and pressed against his mouth. He takes his time answering, finding joy in making me wait. It’s evident from the cold glint in his eye, but I don’t move an inch. He wants me to squirm, but I refuse to give that to him.

“Do you really care how she is, son?”

I hate him. I don’t hate anyone, but I hate him. Condescension oozes from his voice, and I grip my hands into fists to keep from punching him.

“I’m not your son, sir. I have a dad, and yes, I do care. Ivy’s all I care about, so respectfully, I’d like to know how she is.”

Henry’s jaw tightens, but I hold his gaze, refusing to give in.

“She’s fine, considering the circumstances,” he concedes.

For the first time in two weeks, I breathe normally again. My shoulders sink, and I relax my fingers. “I want to marry her, sir.”

I spent every hour planning how this conversation would go in my head. I have an argument for every reason he may say no, but what I didn’t expect was for Henry to laugh in my face. Honestly, I don’t think the man has ever laughed.

My eyes dart around the room, searching for something else that could have been funny, but when my gaze lands back on him, I know it’s me. I can hear my heart beating in my ears as he swipes away a couple of tears.

“What’s so funny, sir?” I ask between my teeth. Frustration bubbles into my voice, finally revealing my hand.

As quick as it started, his laughter ends as he levels me with a stare. “You are, son. Why would you want to marry that girl?”

My anger is like boiling lava rushing through my veins. Hate isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for the man before me. That’s his granddaughter he’s talking about, but more than that, she’s my future wife—and I refuse to listen to it another second.

“That girl has a name. It’s Ivy, and I’m only going to ask one time that you use it, sir,” I say, in the same tone he used.

Standing up, I loom above his desk, placing knuckles against the wood and leaning in.

“And I want to marry her because I love her, but I don’t expect you to understand that because I’m not sure you know what love is. ”

Henry’s lip tilts up in a sneer, but he doesn’t move to stand. It’s a good thing, too. My dad would be ashamed, but right now, I’m not above fighting an old man.

“I wonder,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “if you will still feel the same way when you know the truth.”

“What truth?” I demand. “You said Ivy is fine.”

Something dark and evil glimmers in the older man’s eyes as he moves forward, bracing his elbows on the desk until we are nearly nose to nose. “Yes, but you didn’t ask about the baby.”

My stomach sinks. I hadn’t asked, not because I didn’t care, but because I figured I could ask Ivy when this whole thing was settled.

“What about the baby?” I ask slowly.

A smile slowly creeps onto Henry’s face. “Maybe I should just let you marry Ivy, then you could find out what type of person she is all by yourself.”

He says her name as if she is mud on his shoe, and I’ve had enough. Grabbing the front of his shirt, I pull him toward me. His eyes widen as he loses his balance, falling into the desk, but I don’t let go. I’ve never been this angry before. I’m shaking. “What. about. the. baby?”

“It’s gone,” he practically spits. Shock has me loosening my hold, and he stands, smoothing out the front of his shirt and running his hand through his hair.

I shake my head. I’m not stupid enough to believe a word this man tells me. “No,” I say, my voice not as strong as before. “You’re lying.”

He cocks a brow. “Am I? I have the abortion documents right here in my desk if you’d like to see.

” My heart stops beating. Ivy wouldn’t do that.

He’s lying. He has to be lying. Henry is oblivious to my internal struggle, or maybe he’s reveling in it.

I just know that it’s suddenly hard to breathe in here.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he pulls out a stack of papers and throws them down in front of me.

They land with the sound of the final nail being driven into my coffin because right there on top is proof that he’s telling the truth.

I don’t move to take them. I can’t. I’m frozen in the hell around me.