Chapter Twenty #3
The girl throws me a small smile before shooting Arsen a look.
Then, surprisingly, she moves her focus to Marsden.
“I know we all have questions, but they both look really tired. I think we should at least get them inside and give them time to freshen up and get something to eat before we all descend upon them.”
Before Marsden can reply, Arsen jerks his chin at her.
Apparently a nonverbal way of communicating that she well understands.
Because she throws him a small smile before turning back to me.
Her beautiful brown eyes are soft, much like her smile, as she introduces herself in a tone that I can only describe as gentle: “Hi, Reverie. It’s nice to meet you.
Welcome to Rawhide. My name is Haven, okay?
Why don’t you come inside with me, and I can show you where to freshen up. ”
I blink. “H-Haven?”
Oh God, she’s not Annie. The relief I feel makes my knees weak and my lips tremble.
To her credit, her smile doesn’t falter at my strange reaction. “Yes. Should we go? I bet you want to get out of here.”
I do. So much.
And before I can really think about the repercussions or whether I can trust her or not, I nod. Her smile widens, and she motions for me to follow her. For a second before I leave, I get this crazy urge to look at him.
The man who brought me here.
For some reason, this feels like a big moment.
The moment where our surreal, out-of-some-drug-induced-nightmare journey that started back in the alley where he grabbed me—no, that started with the first letter I wrote him—is coming to an end.
Like this is some sort of goodbye now that he knows the truth and we’re at Rawhide.
I wave it off, though. This is not goodbye. I’m still stuck here, aren’t I? My best friend is potentially still in danger. No matter how my chest is clenching as I walk away, I don’t look back. Not even to check if he’s looking my way, because I can feel the Grayson brothers watching me go.
Once we’re inside the mansion, Haven takes me through an open-concept living room and dining area that leads to a series of hallways that I have no hope of ever remembering.
But even so, I can tell that the interior of this place is as grand as the exterior.
Ceilings as high as the sky with wooden beams running parallel to one another; the walls and the floors made of the same dark wood as the front facade.
The room she takes me to reminds me of the hunting cabin I woke up in my first day.
Except the bed is even more grand, with a large wooden headboard and silky dark sheets, and the wooden walls are thankfully devoid of any bear heads.
I watch Haven make a beeline for a door that she opens to reveal a huge bathroom with two large sinks and a tiled floor. Before I can see anything else, she comes back out with a couple of fluffy white towels.
Throwing me a smile, she says, “Good thing I had everything prepped for his return.” She offers me the towels, and without knowing what else to do, I take them.
“So as you can see, the bathroom is through there. You can take a shower, or there’s a huge bathtub in there that you can make use of too.
I’ve also put out a new toothbrush, and all the toiletries and things are stocked.
” She scrunches her nose. “Fair warning, though; they’re all very basic.
Like a bar soap and a bottle of shampoo, not even a conditioner.
But that’s what he uses, so that’s what I got for him.
I just…” She sighs, looking far away. “I wanted him to feel at home, you know? Wanted to make him think no time has passed at all and that things are the same. So I got all his favorite things, put out his favorite sheets, even though all his sheets are practically the same color; got him new clothes, the kind he likes; ironed some of his favorite old ones. Although, honestly, I don’t even think they’re going to fit him anymore, and I just… ”
She goes silent for a few moments, her brown eyes shining in obvious pain. Then, she seems to shake it off and continues, “In any case, if you want I can lend you my own stuff until we can get you yours, okay?”
I know an answer is expected of me, but I can’t seem to focus enough to give it to her. Instead, I ask a question of my own: “W-who are you?” Then, embarrassed, I clench my eyes shut. “I-I mean, I know you’re Haven. But I… I don’t—”
She seems to get the trouble I’m having, so once again, she helps me out. “I’m Mr. Grayson’s wife.”
I frown in confusion. “M-Marsden’s?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Yup, he’s the only Mr. Grayson on this ranch.” Then, to explain, “The other two are just two guys I grew up with, Arsen and Ax. If they ever told me to call them Mr. Grayson, they know I’d punch them in the face.”
This is… strange. All of it.
It raises more questions for me rather than answer them.
Why would she call her own husband Mr.? Also, how old is she?
I know the oldest Grayson brother is forty and Haven can’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three.
But more than that, if she’s Mrs. Grayson, essentially the mistress of this ranch, why is she helping me?
I can’t trust her, can I? No matter how strangely kind and friendly she seems.
“I see that raises more concerns for you,” she observes correctly.
I clutch the towels to my chest. “I can’t… You’re married to one of them. You’re… you’re probably in on the whole thing and…”
Her features soften even more. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m not.
I don’t even know what this whole thing is.
I don’t know why he…” She seems to be searching for words as she takes me in.
“I don’t know why he brought you here. If it’s any consolation, none of us do.
We all thought… Well, you saw what we thought, and I apologize again for getting carried away back there.
All I know is that you don’t want to be here.
And that you’re scared. I can see that. And you’re hurt”—she looks pointedly at my wrists and my bare legs—“and it doesn’t matter if you’re a Turner or not, I can at least offer you a shower, some food and rest. That’s all.
It’s not a big deal. You won’t owe me anything and after this, you don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.
But I figure we’re girls, right? Girls need to stick together and this is the least I can do. ”
She’s sincere; I can see that. And if she’s not, then she has to be an excellent actress. Either way, I nod, towels still clutched to my chest. “Is this”—I lick my cracked lips—“his room?”
Her eyes go wide at this and she gasps. “Shit, I didn’t think of that. You probably don’t want to be here after everything. Let me find you another—”
“No.” I stop her, my heart somehow both racing and squeezing at the same time. “It’s, uh… It’s okay. I-I don’t mind.”
As crazy as this sounds, I want to be in his room. It makes me breathe easier. But I don’t know how to explain it to her. Turns out, I don’t have to because she somehow gets it completely. “Okay then. I’ll leave you to it. But I’ll make sure he stays away.” She searches my face. “Okay?”
A relieved breath escapes me and I nod jerkily. “Yes. Please.”
Her smile is both sad and understanding. “You got it.”
And then she leaves and I’m here, all alone in this room that was his before he got put away. Feeling both nervous and safe.