Page 34 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

“ T hat was a close one.”

Standing on Haven’s porch, Jamison glared at CeCe drifting through Ty’s gardens. “A close one?”

CeCe plucked a bloom, twirling it beneath her nose with an impish smile. “Everything turned out fine.”

Could she punch a dream? Jamison sure as hell wanted to try, but her mother was watching.

“I wouldn’t say fine, CeCe,” Laura Jean said from the lower porch step. “I thought Jamison was about to have a heart attack. I usually back your ideas, but this wasn’t your best.”

“It worked, didn’t it? Message received and all that.” CeCe dropped the flower. “We had to sell it, or else the others wouldn’t believe.”

“What message? What are you talking about?” Jamison’s voice climbed with each word. “What the hell are either of you talking about?”

“Princess, calm down.” Her mother climbed the steps, glancing nervously at the haint porch ceilings. “Sometimes we have to let certain things happen—

“He was shot!” Hands fisted at her side, Jamison screamed at her mother.

“Those women came here and tried to kill us, and then Liam was shot, but yet you want to tell me I have to let certain things happen? Are you kidding? What part of this are you okay with? Me watching the man I love almost die the same way you died? Or are you just good with people breaking into Haven House so they can hack us to death with machetes?”

“None of it.” Her mother tried to rush another step, but the flesh on her arm sizzled as soon as the shade hit. “I hate all of this, and we’re working to keep you safe. We’ll be with you every step of the way, Jamison. Have faith in us. Have faith in me.”

In the soft glow of sunrise, Jamison’s eyes opened to find Liam staring at her. “You drugged me.”

And she would do it again.

The sound of the gunshot as it echoed through the air had yanked at her connection to Liam, snapping that invisible string tight in her chest. It had her dropping to her knees, forcing her to crawl through the muddy mix of sand and grass to get to him.

She had been so sure he was dead.

But when Bruce burst out of the cabin, reality returned. Smiling and giving her a salute, the bastard had run off into the forest. A part of her had gone immediately feral, demanding that she give chase and hurt him as much as he’d hurt her.

But she didn’t. Getting to Liam had been too important, and inside the shack, she found him crouched on the floor and bleeding.

He wanted to go after Madi, and when she tried to reason with him, his blood soaking them both, he wouldn’t listen and actually ran down the lane after the old pickup speeding away.

“Holly drugged you.” She scooted closer until their legs tangled beneath the blankets. “Blame her, not me.”

How he’d convinced a nurse to stitch him in the back of her ambulance remained a mystery. By the time the fire trucks, police, and every other agency arrived, she’d gone numb and couldn’t remember much.

As she snuggled closer, he tried to arrange them so his injured arm wouldn’t be in the way, but failed, wincing in pain when he moved. “I did not need this right now.”

“And I didn’t need the heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.” He shifted so they could share one pillow and lay nose to nose. “When I saw Madison, reasoning went right the hell out of my head.”

Jamison’s heart lurched. “They still haven’t found them. Rowan’s been up all night digging into Parker.”

“Has he discovered anything?”

“Nothing.”

The guilt each of them felt—especially her father—hung heavy through the house this morning.

Parker Monroe, Claudia Fairweather's boyfriend for the last three years, was a member of Zanmi, and none of them had ever picked up on it.

If they were honest, none of them had cared enough to pay attention.

Claudia and Evie had a friendly relationship, their burned bridge mending in the aftermath of Toby.

Samuel dealt with Damon several times a month, but Jamison doubted the two cousins shared intimate details about their lives.

Her dad never said much more than a hello to any of his extended family, except when discussing a deal or venture that Fairweather Holdings was pursuing.

And she was just as much to blame. She worked with Emily one-on-one for at least a few months out of the year, yet neither ever pushed beyond those easy surface-level conversations reserved for the workspace.

They didn’t know that side of the family.

Once upon a time, Trevor and her father had kept things cordial, going through the motions of what a family was supposed to act like in public.

Sometimes, they would even invite each other to private family events, but more often than not, the other brother would decline the offer unless there was no other way to avoid it.

Mainly because Trevor’s wife made things awkward.

A vicious beast, Heather Fairweather held high expectations in life.

She wanted to rule everything and everyone, and God forbid her husband or her children didn’t assist in those plans for world domination.

On the rare occasion she interacted with Heather, even Jamison struggled with keeping up with the woman’s carefully concealed insults.

“My dad talked to Trevor last night.” Coasting her fingertips across his brow, she smoothed his hair back to see his eyes. “It turns out he and Heather have never met Parker’s family. They only know what Claudia or Parker have told them.”

She’d caught snippets of the conversation. There had definitely been panic in her uncle’s voice. The heartbreaking kind any father would display in this type of situation.

But then Heather took over the conversation .

“Heather basically hung up on him.”

Untangling himself from her hold, Liam rolled to his back with a groan, wincing again when he shifted his arm. “Heather makes our side of the family look sane.”

Our side of the family .

She grinned. “You can’t marry me with a hurt arm.”

“The hell I can’t.” His head snapped to the side, and she noticed how well-rested he looked. Last night was probably the longest he’d slept in weeks. “One week, Jamison. You get one week.”

“Actually, it’s six days now.” Snuggling at his side, she rested her chin on his chest. “And you’re sure you want to do this with all the crazy?”

“Crazy or not, you are marrying me. I don’t care if Michael Sinclair himself is in attendance.” He lifted his head to kiss her, snaking his good arm around her waist to haul them closer. “And I’m sorry about the boat.”

“You owe me a few more rounds.” She kissed him again. “But first, you need to have those stitches looked at. Holly said you have to go get them checked out today.”

“I need to send her some flowers or something, although the entire point of convincing her to patch me up on the side of the road was so I could keep working. What the hell did she give me?”

“Ketamine?” She ran her hand down his chest and abs. “I think Rowan called it Special-K?”

“Holy hell,” he mumbled. “Maybe I’m not going to send her flowers after all.”

Rowan snored softly in the corner chair. They had moved two recliners back into the media room so he or Liam could catch cat naps, and that was exactly what the overly exhausted man was doing.

“He’s working himself to death.” Annabeth sat at one of the folding tables, her gaze locked onto the laptop screen. She’d been searching for information on Parker alongside Rowan, determined to be helpful. “Stubborn man.”

“You haven’t slept either,” Jamison pointed out, scrolling through her laptop search results.

This felt like they were trying to find a needle in a haystack.

They weren’t stupid. They knew a simple internet search wouldn’t yield anything of value, but had to give it their best shot.

“Or Izzy. I’m surprised she was coherent enough to drive Liam to get his stitches looked at. ”

And she was surprised Liam wouldn’t let her go with them.

“I made her sleep.” Across from them, doing his own research, Abe let out an exhausted sigh from behind his laptop. “She fought me, but I won, and she got about three hours of rest. Then a shower and some food. I made her a full meal to make sure she had some fuel.”

Jamison lifted her head, ignoring her screen just as Annabeth did. They glanced at each other before turning on Abe.

“You cooked?” Annabeth asked. “Actual food?”

Abe looked up, his eyes darting back and forth between them. “Yes, I cooked her food.”

Tilting her head to the side, Annabeth studied him. “Like a… microwave meal?”

“No.” Unamused over what she was implying, Abe’s face darkened. “I am capable, Annabeth.”

“Oh, I know you’re capable, you just never do it,” his twin shot back. “And don’t you snap at me as if I think you’re not capable of something. You’re the one all up in your head.”

Abe’s hard gaze dropped back to his screen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, that’s some bullshit.” Folding her hands neatly on the table, Annabeth’s spine shot ramrod straight. She was about to lecture her brother, and Jamison braced herself. Annabeth could be as scary as her mother when in a bad mood. “Get your head out of your ass. You like her.”

Typing furiously, Abe sneered at the keyboard. “So?”

“So, don’t screw this up by pushing Izzy away because you think you’re not good enough.

” Annabeth leaned forward. “We watch you do it all the time, and now you have one that could really be something. No, it’s not the ideal time to be romancing a person, but none of us want to see you get in your head—”

“Hold up.” Abe flopped back in his wheelchair. “ You are lecturing me about getting in my head. Are you for real right now? ”

One of Annabeth’s hands lifted in the air, and with a grand flourish, she gestured in Jamison’s direction. “Tell him.”

Jamison shrank a little in her folding chair. “You’re dragging me into this?”

“I am.” Annabeth spared her a sideways glance. “Now, tell him.”