Page 42

Lucas

When I step inside the house, the first thing I notice is the smell of hot chocolate lingering in the air. My immediate assumption is that Xander made some for Haven, and when I find her curled up on the couch with an empty mug on the table next to her, my suspicions are confirmed.

It looks like Haven has been crying, which makes me wonder why the hell Xander and Colton decided to leave her alone down here. Isaiah almost killed her today, for fuck’s sake.

I should’ve killed him.

My fists clench as I think about the things Isaiah said to Haven, and at the way the life drained out of her eyes. At the very least, I should’ve kicked him a few more times. I heard some of his ribs crack, and it felt satisfying at the time, but now it doesn’t feel like it was nearly enough.

Haven looks up as I approach her, and her eyes widen with fear. I stop immediately before schooling my expression.

Goddammit. I haven’t even said anything, and I’m already fucking things up.

“Your arm,” Haven says.

I don’t realize what she’s talking about until she’s standing right in front of me. Her fingers brush over the dried blood on the sleeve of my hoodie. It looks like the cut has stopped bleeding, but how the hell did I forget about it?

“You need to get this cleaned and bandaged up.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Hesitantly, Haven rests a hand on my chest. “Let me?”

It takes me a second to answer. I’m too caught up in wondering if she can feel the way my heart rate picked up when she touched me. “You don’t have to.”

“Maybe… maybe I want to.”

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

She peeks up at me through her lashes. “Are you still upset?”

“With you? No.”

Haven bites her lip before saying, “You looked so angry when you walked into the house.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes, I want to kill you. But today…” I run my hand through her hair. “Today, I wanted to kill to keep you safe. I’m not used to feeling that way about you. Not anymore. I don’t think I can stop it, though. I don’t know how to not be protective of you.”

“Oh,” she says softly.

I sigh. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry with you, Haven. You didn’t do anything wrong, and it was stupid of me to accuse you of cheating.”

“Luc—”

I place a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry, little fawn. You deserve better than that.”

Her eyes turn misty, and she throws her arms around me. I’m not used to her being this affectionate, but maybe her old feelings for us are coming back, too.

God, we’re all a mess, aren’t we?

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I never wanted to marry Isaiah. Running away was the closest I could get to a divorce.”

“I know.” I squeeze her tight. “None of this is your fault.”

She presses her lips together and avoids my gaze. What Colton told me earlier pops into my head, and my stomach sinks to the floor.

She was never enough for him.

“Haven. Tell me you know that.”

“Can we just deal with your arm?” she asks quietly.

I almost tell her we’re not doing anything until she tells me she knows she’s blameless in all of this. The only thing that stops me is seeing the same timidness in her eyes that showed up when Isaiah was yelling at her. This is something that we can discuss later.

So I move to the nearest bathroom and pull out the first aid kit under the sink. I’m in the middle of looking for an appropriate bandage when Haven bats my hands away.

“Take the hoodie off. I can do this.”

I do as she says, but only because a part of me wants her to take care of the cut for me. There’s something satisfying about knowing that she wants to.

As she gets to work cleaning the cut, I watch her silently. She was brave today—braver than I expected her to be. Sure, she ran from Isaiah, but she didn’t shy away from the fight. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably have a much deeper stab wound to deal with right now.

That’s what I get for throwing myself into a fight without a strategy. All I could think of was keeping Isaiah away from Haven. It clouded my judgment, and that’s not good. She needs me on the top of my game, especially since Isaiah will be back.

“Where are Colt and Xan?” I ask. We should probably come up with some kind of plan since Isaiah knows who Haven is staying with now.

“They heard you pull in and went downstairs so we could talk.”

Oh. That’s much more thoughtful than I gave them credit for.

Haven places a large bandage over the cut and washes her hands. She spends an odd amount of time doing so, scrubbing until her skin is bright red.

“Hey. They’re clean.” I shut the water off and hand her the towel.

She stares at the towel but doesn’t take it. “What if I’ll never truly be safe from him?”

“As long as I’m alive, you will be.”

She lifts her head, and the look she gives me—half shock and half hope—tears my heart in two. I don’t want her to live in fear for the rest of her life.

“I think we need to get your mind off Isaiah.” Taking the towel, I dry her hands and hang it back up. “Come on.”

We don’t return to the living room, instead going upstairs to the loft. I settle us on the couch with her sitting next to me, her legs slung over my lap. I keep one arm around her while I pull my phone from my pocket.

“What are you doing?” Haven asks.

“Giving you a distraction.” I open up Instagram and navigate to a page dedicated to posting baby animals. “Here.”

Haven gasps when I angle my screen toward her so she can see a video of a kitten playing with water. “Oh! It’s so cute.”

I scroll to the next video, and then the next, until Haven’s body has melted into mine and her head is resting on my shoulder. At some point, I switch over to funny videos, mostly so I can hear her laugh. I want the threat of Isaiah to fall from her mind, even if it’s only for an hour or so.

Just as I’m swiping from one goofy skit to another, Haven perks up.

“Wait, wait. Scroll back up.”

I do, watching as she scrutinizes the video we just watched, her eyes narrowing.

“That! That right there.” She pauses the video and points to a purple and red stuffed animal in the background. “Is that a stuffed dragon?”

“Looks like it.”

Humming, Haven looks closer. “It looks really soft.”

I shoot her a confused look. “Have you ever seen a stuffed animal that’s not soft?”

“Oh. Um… I guess not.” Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks away. “That’s a good point. Sorry, that was a silly thing to say.”

“Haven.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just being stupid. We can go to the next video.”

But I’ve already turned off the screen to my phone and tossed it on the couch. “Haven, did you not have any stuffed animals growing up?”

“It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“So you didn’t,” I mutter, half to myself. “That’s awful, Haven. I’m sorry.”

She shrugs, like it’s nothing. “We weren’t allowed many toys. Beckham insisted that it would inhibit our creativity. Maybe he was right, I don’t know. We made our own fun, and it’s not like I knew what I was missing out on. I didn’t even know stuffed animals existed until I moved here and saw Athelia’s stuffed cat.”

“Do you want one?”

“What? No! I’m not a kid anymore.” But her voice is all wrong. Too high-pitched, too hesitant.

“Okay.”

Obviously, Haven doesn’t want to talk about this, but I’m not letting it go. Growing up, I had a couple stuffed animals that were an emotional lifeline for me. I’m sure something would’ve taken their place if I hadn’t owned them, but it still feels wrong that Haven didn’t have any.

Grabbing my phone again, I move to unlock it but accidentally open my camera instead. When Haven sees, her body goes rigid.

“Oh my god,” she says, stunned. “The guy with the phone.”

“What guy?”

“When I was out with Athelia, some guy walked past us on the other side of the street and took a picture of us. I thought it was you three spying on me, but… It wasn’t, was it?”

I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Do you think…”

“That Isaiah is paying people to keep an eye out for you? Yeah, that adds up.”

She sinks into me. “I’m never leaving this house again.”

With a sigh, I pull Haven into my lap and wrap my arms around her. “Yes, you will. One day, you’ll be safe. I promise, little fawn.”