Page 35

Xander

Colton disappears into his bedroom almost immediately after Lucas carries Haven into the bathroom. I’m browsing my phone in the loft while eating M&M’s when I realize what time it is.

Fuck.

Jumping to my feet, I hurry into our room. I knock on the bathroom door before pushing inside. “Luc, practice starts in a half hour.”

“Shit,” he mutters.

“I can take over so you can grab your stuff, and then we can head out.”

“No.” Lucas hands me the washcloth, dodging Haven when she reaches for it. “You should stay.”

“What?”

I can’t hide the hurt in my voice, and Lucas grimaces. The only times I’ve ever missed a practice were when I had a conflicting class schedule or when I was sick. I’ve been there for everything—Lucas’s slow but steady improvement, the team bonding over the past three years, and the coach’s countless angry outbursts.

I’m always there. Always.

“One second,” Lucas tells Haven before he pushes me out of the bathroom.

“What’s going on?” I ask. “Why don’t you want me there?”

“It’s not like that.” He rests his hands on my shoulders, and the physical touch is more reassuring than words could ever be. “I just… We know how she grew up. She agreed to all this, but I don’t want to make her feel the way she did when she was younger, you know? Like she’s only good for one thing.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Growing up in church, I saw the way women were treated. There were countless young mothers who were barely holding it together. Overworked, barely getting any sleep, and with children hanging all over them. To their husbands, they were nothing but vessels for sexual pleasure, popping out babies, and cleaning from sunup until sundown.

As for the girls? Before they even hit their teenage years, they were scolded for wearing skirts that were too short. They were told it was their duty to babysit for free or to volunteer in the nursery during services. After all, they needed to know how to take care of children for when they’d inevitably become stay-at-home mothers themselves.

It was a manufactured cycle of grooming that disgusted me from the moment my eyes were opened to it. After I left the church, I watched so many of the girls I grew up with get married right out of high school and end up pregnant before they even turned nineteen.

It’s exactly why I don’t want Haven helping out with chores. She can help cook if she really wants to, but I’ll be damned if I let her wash a single dish or wipe down a counter while she’s staying with us. We’re perfectly capable of handling that shit ourselves.

Sure, we treat her like a slut and make her call herself our living, breathing fleshlight, but we shouldn’t take away her personhood. I think even Colton can acknowledge that.

“I just don’t want it to be left to only Colton,” Lucas says quietly.

“That’s probably for the best.”

Lucas doesn’t trust him all the way yet, not after what he pulled in the basement. Hell, I’m not sure I trust Colton after that. He’s showing signs of remorse, but it’s not enough. Not yet.

“All right. I’ll stay, and we’ll do some type of aftercare.”

“Thank you.” Lucas kisses me and pulls me into a hug.

I’m only a few inches shorter than he is, but his muscular body and broad shoulders dwarf mine. For the briefest second, I let myself stay wrapped up in him, inhaling the earthy, woodsy scent that will always represent home to me.

When I push him away, he lets go reluctantly. I wish I could keep him here longer, but he has to get moving or he’s going to be late.

“See you later,” he says with a kiss to my cheek.

After shooting a quick text to Colton, I step back into the bathroom to find Haven frowning at the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lucas—” She doesn’t continue, biting her lip instead.

“Uh uh, you’re not stopping there. Not when it’s about him.”

“His hands.” She brushes her fingers over her palms.

My stomach drops. Haven doesn’t have to say anything else. Stress manifests in lots of different ways. For some people, it’s over- or under-eating. For others, grinding their teeth at night. For Lucas, it’s clenching his fists so hard that his nails cut into his skin without him realizing it.

With a sigh, I run my fingers through her hair. “I’ll talk to him. Thank you for telling me.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine. Just has to blow off some steam.”

“How does he normally do that?”

“Sex, sometimes, although I think he was too focused on making sure you were all right for it to help.”

She looks surprised. “Oh.”

I clear my throat. “How does watching a movie sound? Maybe eating some ice cream, too?”

Just like that, she perks up. “Yes, please.”

“Good. Let’s get you into something that’s not covered in cum.”

She glances down at her bodysuit and laughs. Laughs. After her crying and begging earlier, that’s as unexpected as her hair spontaneously turning bright pink.

Maybe she is right. Maybe this is what she needs.

I walk her to Colton’s room, and he opens the door just as she’s about to step inside.

“Movie sounds good,” he tells me, referencing the text I sent him. His eyes drop to Haven. “There’s pajama pants and a T-shirt on the bed for you.”

“Pajama pants?” she asks, peeking around him.

“You did good today. Want you comfortable.”

Her eyes fill with warmth. “Thank you.”

Leaning down, Colton brushes his lips against her forehead. “Meet us downstairs when you’re changed.”

Closing her in, Colton jerks his head toward the end of the hallway, and I follow him down the steps and into the kitchen.

“I reached out to a few people the other day,” he tells me as he dishes out ice cream. “Lookouts.”

“To find the guy who’s searching for her?”

He nods. “Forgot to mention it with everything else going on. Took a few days, but I’ve got a few pictures. I think it’d be a good idea for Haven to take a look at them.”

“Sure, yeah, just not until after the movie, okay?”

“I was thinking at dinner, once Luc is back.”

“Sounds good. You think one of those pics is actually him?”

Colton’s hand tightens on the ice cream scoop. “I hope so. I want this motherfucker dead.”