Her gaze darts to him, then back to me. There’s no smile. No ‘hello’ in return. Just an open stare and the sense that she’s about to flee.
A second later, a man comes walking out of another doorway; the kitchen, I’d bet. He’s a couple of inches shorter than Dallas, with a stocky build that fills out the pale blue polo shirt stretched over his chest. I get a flash of the matching scar on his palm on his hand as he gives a cheery wave before I’m distracted by the brand on his inner forearm.
Unless I’m imagining it, that’s the letter ‘H’ either burned into his skin or carved with a knife.
H.
Haven…
“Haven, sweetheart, you know Dallas.” He holds out his arm and she dashes over to him, ducking against his side. “This is his Lucy. You remember. Adrian called and asked if we were up for company.”
She nods.
“Right. She’s going to stay here tonight. Use your old bed in the basement if Dallas won’t be back until the morning. Is that okay with you?”
As I kind of hide behind Dallas, Haven turns those big eyes on me. For a moment, she stares at me, unblinking, before she nods again.
Connor drops a kiss on the top of her head. “That’s my girl.”
Girl, I think. Despite how she seems to use her oversized clothing to conceal herself, I look at Haven and think she has to be my age. Twenty-nine, thirty… somewhere near there. And, yet, Connor treats her like she’s so much younger.
No, I correct. He treats her like he’s prepared to watch her shatter at any moment.
I give her a tentative wave. “Hi.”
Haven mimics the wave.
Connor rubs her shoulder. “This is my wife, Haven. She doesn’t talk much.”
Haven’s eyes cut to him. It’s quick, but sharp enough that Connor goes quiet like he’s been trained, and I realize that she might not be as fragile as I thought. At the very least, she’s here because she wants to be, and Connor and Dallas have something else in common: he worships the ground she walks on.
I give the married couple a crooked grin. “That’s okay. After my accident, I don’t have much to say either.”
Haven’s expression changes just enough to be noticeable. She doesn’t say a word, but in the way her features shift, I get the feeling that she’s just welcomed me into her home.
Connor shifts his weight. “I’ll—uh?—”
Haven looks at him again. This time, it’s unmistakable. She doesn’t have to say a word to get her message across and, as Connor removes his arm from its place slung over her shoulder, this one is clear:I’ve got this.
Connor exhales like he wants to argue, though he doesn’t. Instead, he mutters something under his breath before jerking his chin in a goodbye nod to Dallas, then disappearing into the back of the house, leaving the three of us standing there in the quiet.
Dallas’s hand finds my elbow.
“You good?” he asks.
Surprisingly, I think I am.
He leans in slightly, voice low enough that Haven can’t hear. “You have your phone in the overnight bag we packed?” I nod again. He squeezes my elbow. “Good. I’ll call you before I pick you up.”
In answer, I go up on my tip-toes and press my lips to the edge of his jaw.
Dallas’s attention goes to Haven. “If she needs anything?—”
Haven’s eyes narrow, just a fraction, like she’s insulted by the implication that she can’t handle me.
Dallas pauses. Then he says, very carefully, “Keep her safe the way that Connor does you.”
Haven doesn’t say a word. She definitely doesn’t agree. She does, however, hold Dallas’s gaze for a long moment, and I guess that’s enough before my husband turns back to me.
