I’m not okay. ‘Okay’ isn’t even on my radar.
But what am I supposed to say? That I’m having a moral crisis because I helped my professor murder a man who was threatening my girlfriend? That I’m terrified of how quickly I grabbed that guy, how easily I held him down, how I watched the life drain out of him without even trying to stop Rooke?
That some sick, twisted part of me is glad he’s dead because I thought he was going to kill Haven and now he can’t anymore?
The drive blurs together—exit signs and taillights and the occasional flash of headlights from oncoming traffic. Haven keeps giving directions, her voice never wavering, and I keep staring at my hands and wondering when I became someone who helps dispose of bodies.
At some point, the streetlights disappear.
The roads get narrower and darker. The asphalt gives way to gravel, then dirt. Branches scrape against the windows like fingernails on a coffin lid.
I’m not paying attention to where we’re going until Haven says, “Can you turn in here?”
There’s a note of laughter in Rooke’s voice when he replies. “And my broker said I wouldn’t need off-road coverage. Joke’s on him.”
Rooke steers the Land Rover off the road entirely, bumping over roots and ruts until the trees get too thick to continue.
He kills the engine.
The sudden quiet is jarring. No traffic noise, no city hum—just the tick of the cooling engine and the whisper of wind through the leaves.
And water.
I hear water.
My head snaps up.
The fog lifts, the numbness recedes, and I’m suddenly, violently here in this moment, staring through the windshield at a wall of trees that I know—I fucking know—as well as I know my own face.
“Wh-what?” The word comes out broken.
Haven turns in her seat to look at me. Her expression is unreadable in the dark.
“Kai—”
“No.” I’m already scrambling for the door, shoving it open, stumbling out into the night. “No, not here, not…”
The smell of damp earth and rotting leaves and the mineral tang of the creek hits my nose. Then that all too familiar sound of water rushing over rocks.
I know where I am.
Every tree, every rock, every bend in the creek. I spent half my childhood here with Haven, hiding from our families as we played pretend.
This is where I fell in love with Haven.
This is where I broke her heart…and mine.
“Hey.” She’s beside me now, her fingers slipping between mine. “Is this…okay?”
“Why?” I round on her, grabbing her shoulders. “Why here? Of all the fucking places?—”
“Because it’s safe.” Her eyes meet mine, drenched with resignation. “No one ever comes here.”
“You don’t know that!” I shake her hand out of mine, swipe it through my hair. I lost Haven’s hair tie ages ago—probably when Rooke had me cornered in the Land Rover. My hair feels damp and warm with sweat, despite the chill in the air.
It’s been unseasonably warm for fall, but out here by the creek, it feels like the world is on the edge of winter.
“Trust me,” she murmurs, glancing at Rooke as he comes to join us.
