Because that’s worse than being accused of kidnapping and assault, or whatever fairy tale Melissa’s coked up mind came up with.
Because what if this is it? What if Haven’s chosenhimoverme?
What if I’ve already lost and I’m too stubborn to accept it?
I put my head in my hands and try to breathe through the panic fizzing in my veins.
Thought shit was bad last night, after me and Haven got in that fight. Meanwhile, that was me living my best life.
So what comes next?
I mean, I’m already in purgatory or whatever the fuck.
Haven leaving…
I’d take hell over this.
At least in hell, you know where you stand.
This? This is free fall.
Chapter 13
Haven
It’s just gone nine, and I’m signing my name at the front desk of the Sheriff’s Office, my hand shaking so badly my signature looks like a toddler signing off their Crayola masterpiece.
Too little sleep. Too much coffee.
Oh, and the fact that I slept alone becausemy boyfriend is in prison.
I think I’m going to throw up. From the smell that the industrial cleaner is so desperately trying to cover up, I wouldn’t be the first this weekend.
“Wait here.” The baby-faced officer who picked me up this morning—Kid Cop, I’m calling him because I still didn’t catch his name after he repeated it twice—gestures.
‘Here’ is a plastic chair bolted to the floor like they’re afraid someone might steal it. Who the fuck steals a chair from a police station?
I sit and clutch my tote bag to my chest like it’s a life preserver.
…if I throw you overboard, Heavenly, you’ll drown before anyone even notices you’re gone…
Turns out Kai was more in danger of being tossed over the side of the ship than I was. We should never have jumped ship on Captain Rooke.
No.
Ishould never have tried finding comfort in the arms of a fucking madman.
I can still smell Bastian. It’s like his scent has absorbed into my skin, which is impossible, because I’ve showered three times already. Telling myself that it’s all in my mind doesn’t make the smell go away.
Or the guilt.
There I go again. Thinking about Bastian.
Sounds echo down the hallway. Footsteps. Voices. The jangle of handcuffs.
I glance up and it’s like someone just poured a bucket of ice water over my head.
Kai and another inmate, hands cuffed in front of them, are being led down the hall by a pair of cops.
