Page 3

Haven

Immediately, I stumble backward, tripping on a decorative stone and flailing. Just as I’m about to crash into the garden, he grabs my arms and pulls me back onto the path.

With a terrified yelp, I claw at his arms. He’ll hurt me—he’ll take me back to Cornerstone. He’ll lock me up, or worse, he’ll kill me.

Can’t go back. I can’t go back.

I manage to slip free from Isaiah’s grasp, but as I spin around to run, he grabs me again. A thick, muscular arm clamps around my waist, and he claps his free hand over my mouth before I can scream for help. I stomp on his foot, but he must be wearing his work boots because he doesn’t even flinch.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, and his voice sounds much younger than Isaiah’s. “Just calm down.”

The faint scent of lemon penetrates my panic, followed by something woodsy. It takes me a second to realize it’s coming from the boy holding me still, and then another to remember that Isaiah smells nothing like that. When he comes home from work, his clothes are covered in sweat and oil stains, and after a shower, he smells like the natural pine soap he likes.

My knees buckle, and I sob into the boy’s hand with relief.

Not him. Not Isaiah. He hasn’t found me.

“Wha—Jesus!” With his arm still around me, the boy pitches forward from my weight sinking to the ground. He balances himself out and scoops me into his arms before we both fall, and he carries me to a nearby stone bench.

It’s the exact way Isaiah carried me over the threshold of his house the day we got married. Except this time, I’m not frozen, tears streaming down my face, terrified of what’s about to happen when he closes the door behind us.

Gently, the boy sets me on the bench. The stone is cool and rough on my thighs without a skirt acting as a barrier. It feels so strange, yet it’s comforting at the same time.

“You always this jumpy?” the boy asks. He’s standing in front of me, so tall I have to tilt my face up to meet his gaze.

“N-no.”

“Damn. So it was me, then? I’ve never had a girl react that way to seeing my face. I mean, look at me.” He gestures to his face, grinning.

Oh. He seems quite confident, but not in the same way some of the boys and men back at Cornerstone are. They act like you’re supposed to worship the ground they walk on—like they’re above everyone else. This boy is acting like he’s simply stating a fact without an expected reaction from me.

He does look fairly attractive, I suppose.

Plopping down on the bench next to me, he tilts his head and takes me in. I do the same to him. Now that he’s closer and my thoughts aren’t tinged with panic, he looks nothing like Isaiah. Sure, he’s tall and has the same blond hair, but his facial structure is completely different. It’s too dark to make out his eye color well, but I swear I see a golden ring around his pupils that fades into green.

“You’re pretty,” he says softly.

His words stun me into silence. Isaiah never bothered to compliment me, and it would’ve been a sin for another man to say something like that to a married woman. My mother called me beautiful on occasion, as did Ruth, but it’s difficult to believe them when your own husband barely looks at you.

“Jesus. Has no one ever complimented you before?”

I wince. That’s the second time he’s taken the Lord’s name in vain. I don’t know if that matters to me anymore—don’t know if God even exists—but it still strikes me as wrong.

“Seriously. You look like you’re about to cry.”

“What? Oh. I—no, people have. It’s just been a while, I guess.”

He’s still watching me. In fact, I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off me since he first spoke to me. There’s a part of me that’s disturbed by it, but I also find I like it. It makes me feel… special, almost.

“Well, I’m sure that’ll change now that you’re here.”

I’m not sure I understand what he means, but I feel silly asking, so I just nod and drop my gaze to my lap.

“So,” the boy says in an almost coaxing manner, “what was on your mind before I scared you half to death?”

“That’s… Um, it’s a lot.”

“I’m used to a lot.”

Hmm. Maybe getting this boy’s opinion could be helpful. I can’t ask Julie every time I’m not sure what to think. She’s busy with her job, and I don’t want to become a nuisance.

Talking to this boy could be a good place to start. Maybe I can gather up as many opinions as I can from other people and sort through them to come up with my own.

That’s how this all started, isn’t it? When I first met Julie, I discovered that her beliefs were similar yet different to mine, and it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for what the truth might be. What right and wrong could be.

“Do you…” I stop myself. What if I’m wrong? What if I already know the answer to my questions, and I’m just running from them because I’m rebelling from God?

How am I supposed to know?

“Go on,” the boy says.

I clear my throat, searching deep to find the resolve to get over my worries. “Do you ever wonder how much of your life you’ve wasted feeling guilty over doing things that weren’t even wrong?”

My stomach lurches, and I immediately regret asking. That’s way too personal of a question to ask a stranger. But the boy’s face turns contemplative. He tilts his head upward so the light from one of the lampposts casts him in a warm, inviting glow.

“You really do have a lot on your mind.” His voice is subdued as he stares upward.

I follow his gaze, startled to find a starless sky. There weren’t any clouds earlier, and I can’t make out any now, but… well, where did the stars go?

“What’s got you thinking something like that on tonight of all nights?”

“I… I don’t know if I should’ve come here. I don’t know what to think about… about anything.”

“Aww, missing home?” he teases, nudging me in the arm. When I don’t react, he sobers. “Oh, shit, you are.”

“Maybe.”

“Hey.” Reaching out, he twists a lock of my hair around his finger before tucking it behind my ear. “You’re gonna be fine, all right? I’ve heard it’s pretty typical for freshman to get homesick while they adjust to living at college.”

“I suppose,” I whisper. Something deep in my heart aches as I realize that type of touch is something I wished for desperately with someone else. Someone who couldn’t understand the significance behind such a simple gesture.

The boy watches me quietly for a second. I wonder what his life has been like up until now. I doubt he grew up like me—married by the age of fifteen and chained to a life of serving God by serving my spouse. Or providing, I suppose, if he was in my shoes. The serving is usually left to the women.

“But I don’t think I can be of much help,” he says. “I’ve spent a particularly small portion of my life feeling guilty.”

“What do you mean?”

Shrugging, he drops his gaze so he’s looking at me again. Except it’s more than looking. It feels like he’s analyzing me. What he’s hoping to find, I don’t know.

“I just don’t feel guilty that often, especially for things that I don’t think are wrong.”

I frown. “How?”

“How what?”

“How do you not feel guilty?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t let other people tell me what’s right and what’s wrong.”

I can’t help my wince. If he knew more about my upbringing, I’d think that was a personal jab.

“And second,” he continues, “I follow my gut, and I don’t make a decision until I’m sure of it. That way, there’s no second guessing later.”

“That sounds nice,” I say quietly. All I want right now is to have confidence in my decision to leave Cornerstone.

“Besides, guilt has never really suited me,” the boy continues. “Why bother with it when there are much better things to occupy yourself with?”

From the pulpit, Beckham warned us about people like this. Hedonists, I think he called them. But maybe that’s yet another belief that I need to deconstruct.

“Much better things,” I echo quietly.

“Sure. Cars, sex, drugs—if that’s your thing.” He laughs when he sees the horrified look on my face. “No drugs, got it. Books, then? Or are you one of those horse girls? Maybe you like games? Ah, there we go. I bet you’re one of those cozy gamer girls, aren’t you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, a cozy gamer girl?”

“No? I got you wrong?”

As I try to figure out what he means, I feel an involuntary frown form on my face. “Well, I usually like to have a cup of tea while I’m playing chess with my younger brother, and sometimes I wrap myself up in a blanket. So… I guess it can be pretty cozy.”

He laughs, and I get the distinct impression that it’s because I just said something stupid. “Not those types of games. Animal Crossing? Stardew Valley? Shit like that?”

I stare at him blankly. “Animal… what?”

His eyes go wide. “Seriously? You’ve never heard of those before?”

Feeling my cheeks begin to burn, I shake my head.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “I didn’t think it’d be this bad.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, wincing at the hint of defensiveness in my tone. That type of thing would get me slapped across the face if I was speaking to Isaiah.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says as his expression turns pitying. “They’re video games. Specifically, cozy video games.”

“Oh! Got it,” I say, hoping that I sound confident enough.

Video games. I’ve seen videos before—only ones Beckham or my parents approved of—but I’m not sure how one could be a game.

The boy sticks his hand out. “I’m Colton, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Haven.” I say my name slowly, trying to get used to the way it sounds on my tongue. It’s only one letter off from the name my parents gave me— Heaven— but it’s still going to take some getting used to.

“Haven,” he repeats thoughtfully. As he looks me up and down, a playful smile appears on his features. “You’re supposed to shake it, by the way.”

“Shake… shake what?”

“My hand.”

I glance down, realizing his hand is still stretched out toward me. At Cornerstone, men and women weren’t allowed to touch each other unless they were married. It was a way to ward off temptation, although I heard whispering from a select few that it only made adultery and pre-marital sex more attractive. I was never sure who to believe.

“Put your right one in mine,” he orders gently.

I do so without thought, only realizing once his fingers close around mine that I did it solely because I’ve never had the choice to disobey the men around me. Not without consequences, at least.

“There’s a whole bunch of bullshit about gripping too hard or not gripping hard enough, but just ignore all that. Do what feels natural to you, and then do this.” He moves his hand up and down, and mine follows. “Yeah, just like that. Again.”

He breaks our hands apart and then holds his out again, and when I take it, I repeat the motion he made.

Colton grins. “Look at you. Already a pro.”

“What does it mean?” I do the motion again.

“It’s a greeting. Like a hug or a wave.”

“Oh.”

I’m not really sure what to say next, but Colton doesn’t seem perturbed by the silence that stretches out between us. It strikes me that he’s talked me through multiple knowledge gaps without question. I was worried I’d be bombarded with questions when I tried to make friends, but he doesn’t seem curious.

“You’re nice to talk to.”

The second I hear those words in my own voice, I clap a hand over my mouth. I wanted to say it to him, but I wasn’t actually going to. How embarrassing.

“You are, too,” Colton says on a chuckle.

Doubt creeps into my mind. There’s no way that can be true. Isaiah always said I wasn’t smart enough to hold a worthwhile conversation. Most of our time spent together was him talking and me listening. I even stopped asking questions because he always thought I was disrespecting him.

“You mean that?” I ask hesitantly.

“I’m still talking to you, aren’t I?”

“Oh. I… I guess so.”

“You don’t have much confidence, do you?” He’s frowning at me with his head tilted, and I get that feeling that he’s analyzing me again.

“I wasn’t really supposed to.”

“Back home, you mean?”

I nod.

“Hmm. We’ll have to work on that.”

“Work on what?”

“Building your confidence up. No friend of mine is going to walk around thinking they aren’t worth anything.”

“We’re friends?”

“I think we could be. What about you?”

A smile blooms on my face. “I think so, too.”

“It’s settled. You’ve officially made your first friend at Pemberton University.”

“Hey! Who said you were my first? I could have five friends by now.”

He gives me a disbelieving look that has both of us dissolving into a fit of laughter. I don’t realize I’ve moved closer to him until I turn to face him and my knee brushes his. On instinct, I pull away, my bare skin burning. I’m still not used to touching any man but Isaiah.

Does this count as adultery?

The thought is whisked away when Colton places his hand on my shoulder. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I can follow my gut like Colton does and have confidence in my decisions.

Divorce is forbidden at Cornerstone, but I don’t care about their rules. If I did, I wouldn’t have left. So that would mean… that would mean this isn’t adultery because I left Isaiah. It’s the closest to divorce I can get to.

Some of the tightness in my chest eases, and I let out a long, relieved breath. That felt easy. It felt good.

“Whoa, what just happened?” Colton peers at me. “I swear I just saw literal, tangible stress fly out your ears.”

I giggle. “Out my ears?!”

“Oh, yeah,” he says solemnly. “It was like smoke or steam or something. The wind blew it away.”

We stare at each other for a split second before we both start laughing again. This time, when I lean into him, I let myself get close enough to catch another whiff of the citrus scent that clings to his clothes.

He nudges me. “Come on, what just happened up in that pretty head of yours?”

“It’s a secret,” I say, snickering when he shoots me a playful glare.

“You have to tell me.”

“No, I don’t.”

Something dark flashes in his eyes. “Yeah? Well, I’m quite good at forcing people’s secrets out of them, so I’d be careful if I were you.”

Before I can hide my reaction, my eyes widen and my lips part in shock. “W-what?”

He narrows his eyes. “I bet you’re ticklish.”

“No, I—ahhh! COLTON!”

I squirm and flail as he tickles my sides. When I push at his hands to stop him, he grabs both my wrists together and holds them tight with one hand. It leaves me vulnerable to his attacks, and I laugh as I try to wiggle free.

“Come on, tell me.”

“Noooo!”

Colton flips me so I’m on my back with my hands pinned above my head. His knee is pressed between my thighs, and when he notices my shirt has ridden up, he tickles the bare skin. Squealing, I try to kick at him, but I can’t really get anywhere.

“Tell me, and I’ll stop.” His tone is playful, but his eyes tell a different story.

Regardless, I can’t go on for much longer, so I relax into his hold. “Ahhh! Okay, okay, I give up!”

As I stare up at him, an odd sensation creeps through my body. I’ve only felt it a few times before and never for very long, and never this intensely. The feeling swoops through my stomach before falling lower, to where Colton’s knee is still lodged between my thighs.

Heat rushes through me along with something almost tingly, and I realize what it is. I like Colton holding me down like this. It feels almost freeing even though his body is trapping mine against the bench.

“Well?”

But I’m too astounded to respond. Too confused. I thought Isaiah had broken this part of me—the part that made me desire another person.

“If you don’t tell me in three seconds, I’m gonna start tickling you again.”

His threat snaps me back to the present. “Maybe I did make the right decision,” I blurt.

At that, Colton’s face lights up. “Really?”

Breathlessly, I nod.

“Well, now you know.”

“Know what?”

“How easy it is to trust yourself.”

One of the thousand knots in my heart untangles. “Oh.”

I figure he’ll let me go now, but he keeps me pinned to the bench. It confuses me, but I sort of like it, too. As long as…

I shiver.

As long as he doesn’t try to do anything else.

“You cold?” he asks.

“Maybe a little,” I lie.

Finally, Colton pulls me back up to a sitting position, but he doesn’t let go of my wrists. “It is getting late. You’re probably tired. Long day of traveling, I assume?”

I nod. My cheeks feel warm, and that tingly sensation between my legs hasn’t gone away yet.

“C’mon.” As he stands, he takes me with him. “Let’s get you back to your dorm.”

Speechless, I follow. None of the men at Cornerstone cared about how much sleep I got—or didn’t get. Not my father, not my brothers, not my husband. I slept once my work was done for the day, and I was expected to get up earlier than Isaiah to make him breakfast and coffee before work.

How is it that a boy I just met is taking better care of me than the men who promised me they would? My father, Pastor Beckham, my husband… none of them would do something like this.

A feeling of safety settles over me. I’m not sure if I can trust it, but as Colton leads me onto the main pathway, I don’t pull back. If anything, I let myself move closer to him as his hand slides into mine.

With a tentatively full heart, I glance up at the sky. It’s not until I’m greeted by pure darkness that I realize I’m looking for some kind of assurance that I’m not making a big mistake. As if God or some other entity would spell it out for me in the stars.

My gaze shifts to Colton, who’s already watching me closely. Maybe I don’t need a sign. Maybe I can trust myself with this, too. And maybe I can trust Colton to be a person who looks out for me.

As we near the dorm hall, I open my mouth but then instantly close it. Isaiah would mock me for what I want to ask. But I’m not at Cornerstone, and the blond boy holding my hand isn’t my husband.

You can do it, I tell myself.

So I close my eyes and blurt out, “Are stars real?”

Colton makes a strange sound, and I must’ve caught him off guard because he pulls me to a stop.

“What?”

My throat gets all tight at the shock in his voice, but he doesn’t sound like he’s judging me, so I force myself to meet his eyes. “The stars. You know, the ones in the sky? They’re real, right?”

The way he’s staring at me has me wondering if I’m stupid for ever believing they’re real. It’s just that I saw them almost every night at Cornerstone. I don’t even know how Beckham could’ve faked it, or why he’d bother.

No. No, they can’t be fake. The sun is still in the sky. So is the moon.

“Of course they’re real.” He’s still frowning at me, and I don’t particularly like the way it makes me feel. “What… why on earth would you think they’re not?”

“Because I can’t see them.”

He gives me a bewildered look. “You’ve never heard of light pollution before?”

“Light… light what?”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, and then he rubs at his face. “It’s harder to see the stars when there’s a lot of light around. It affects your eyes too much or some shit. I honestly don’t really remember how it works. Got too many other things to keep in my head.”

“Oh,” I say, and for some reason, I find that answer comforting. “So they’re still there, even though we can’t see them?”

“Yeah. Here.” He pulls me away from the dorm hall and onto a patch of grass that expands to the next building. “Close your eyes for a few seconds.”

I do, scrunching them as tight as possible until he tells me to open them again.

“Now look up at the sky and focus really hard.”

“All right, but wh—oh!”

A single star appears in the sky, and then a second, and then a third. It’s not nearly as many as I could see at Cornerstone, but that doesn’t matter. It’s a relief to be able to see any of them.

“See? Still there. And very, very real.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” I whisper. “I don’t want to live in a world without stars.”

He smiles down on me like what I just said was cute. “Neither do I.”

Slowly, we meander back the way we came. His arm is wrapped around my shoulders now, and I can’t help but notice that I fit perfectly tucked into his side like this. He’s quite a bit taller than I am, and it gives me plenty of room to nestle into him.

“Where’s your dorm?” I ask

“Don’t have one. I’m local. Live with my dad.”

“Oh. Then what were you doing over here?”

Colton shrugs. “Taking a walk. Was just gonna meander around campus for a bit, but then I saw you.”

“You… you stopped for me?”

“Mmhmm.” He nods to the lamp posts. “You came out of the dorm hall, and the lights reflected off your hair, and it stopped me in my tracks. It looked like you had a halo, like you were an angel or something.”

“Really?”

“Yep. You proved me wrong pretty quickly, though, what with the falling into the garden thing. I don’t think angels are that clumsy.”

As we step inside, I laugh. It draws the attention of a group of people talking around a table. One of the guys does a double take before standing and jogging over to us. Colton’s arm tightens around me, and I feel his body go rigid against mine.

“Hey, dude.” The boy stops in front of us, and while it’s obvious he’s talking to Colton, his eyes linger on me. “I didn’t think you were staying on campus.”

“I’m not,” Colton says, not bothering to hide his annoyance at being stopped.

“Branching out, huh?” he asks with a conspiratorial grin. “She’s not your usual type.”

Colton doesn’t say anything, and when I look up at him in confusion, I find his features hardened into a lethal glare.

“Right.” With a nervous laugh, the guy backs off. “See you around, man.”

Not bothering to respond, Colton ushers me toward the elevators. “What floor are you on?”

“The third.”

There’s a button on the wall with an arrow pointing upward, and he presses it. One of the elevators opens, and I make note that that’s how these things work. I don’t mind taking the stairs, but I think the elevators are faster.

“What did he mean by that?” I ask once we’re closed inside. “The… the thing about your type?”

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, anyway.”

“You know him?”

“We went to the same high school.”

“But you’re not friends?”

He laughs darkly. “No. He’s an asshole.”

“Oh,” I mumble. “I thought he was being nice.”

“He wasn’t,” Colton says flatly.

Even though we’re out of sight now, Colton is still stiff, and I wonder if it’s because of me. “Does it bug you how many questions I ask?”

He squeezes my shoulder, I think in a reassuring way. “Nah. I think it’s kind of cute.”

Cute. That’s… not something I’ve ever been called before, except maybe when I was a kid.

The elevator doors open, and I take the lead, only now realizing that there’s no reason for Colton to be up here with me unless he intends on coming into my dorm. Being alone with a man in a bedroom has only caused me pain, and my palms turn sweaty at the thought of letting Colton in. I don’t think he’s that type of man, but I’m not ready to risk it.

When we reach my door, I slow to a stop, and Colton lets his arm slip from around my shoulders. Cold air rushes in as he steps back and slides his hands into his pockets.

“I hope you sleep well, Haven.”

Oh. So he isn’t expecting to come in? He was just walking me to my dorm? That’s… sweet.

“Thank you. Um, you too.”

“You gonna be all right?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed pretty scared earlier.”

I bite my lip while I try to come up with an explanation. The truth has to stay a secret, at least until I know he’ll keep it for me.

“It’s just that everything here is pretty new to me. I don’t know who to trust.”

Me standing just inside my dorm and him in the hallway feels like the perfect picture of it. He’s the only person I’ve met on campus, and he’s been nothing but nice, but I still can’t let him in to help me. It’s too risky.

“Well, I can show you around a bit before classes start. I grew up around here, so I know all the best spots in town for studying and hanging out.”

Slowly, I nod, not really registering what he said. All I can focus on is what he didn’t. When I was forced to start courting Isaiah, he told me I could trust him. He was lying. He knew it, I knew it, and it didn’t take him long to prove it.

Colton isn’t telling me that, though. Even though he’s much younger than Isaiah was when I married him, he seems to know that saying he’s trustworthy is pointless. That can only be proven over time.

“What do you think?” he asks after a long moment of silence.

“I think I’d like that,” I say hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing.” He gives me a smile, just the barest tilt of his lips. “I’ll see you around, Haven.”