Chapter Twenty-Two
I’M WAITING FOR the other shoe to drop.
So far it hasn’t happened, but I know it’s coming.
After Haven left me in his room, I took a long, hot shower.
I stood under the water and let it wash away all the caked dirt and blood.
The only reason I got out was because my skin was beginning to prune and I was hungry.
Which Haven had already predicted because when I got out, there was food waiting for me on the nightstand, along with some clothes on the bed.
I was slightly nervous about the clothes, but Haven somehow found me ones that fit me perfectly: a pair of jeans that I’d usually wear if I were going to classes and a simple T-shirt with a hoodie.
Somehow, though, instead of making me feel relief after wearing a dress for almost a week, the change of clothes made me feel sad. It made me feel like things have really come to an end. That I’m Reverie once again. Plain and lonely with a careful, safe, boring life.
Just as I was finishing the food, Haven came in and told me she was supposed to watch me.
And that occasionally, Ax might pop in when Haven needed to be somewhere else, but someone would be with me at all times.
She said she didn’t like any of it, and I could see she was telling the truth.
It made her feel that I was a prisoner—which I am essentially—but she needed to do it because she had promised Arsen.
After breaking the news, Haven asked me if I wanted to help her with dinner and I said yes.
I didn’t want to sit in my room, or rather his room, all day worrying about my fate.
Only I didn’t know the dinner she needed my help with was going to be all about him.
His favorite dishes, his favorite dessert. His favorite everything.
After that reunion I’d seen earlier, I probably should’ve guessed that Haven would make a homecoming dinner for the man who lost eight years of his life behind bars.
As I helped her, I wondered if she knew who Annie was.
And if I asked her, if she would tell me.
But I refrained, of course. It was none of my business, and no matter how friendly she looked, she was still in the Grayson camp.
Although, I did feel bad for her because she took such pains in cooking dinner for him and he never showed up.
Nope, he was nowhere to be seen at dinner.
Marsden wasn’t there either, but I was glad about that.
Marsden Grayson is scary, and the more I get to know Haven, the more I wonder how in the hell they ended up together.
Ax did show up, though, and even though he kept his distance from me, saying only a couple of words, I could feel him watching me with a glint in his eyes.
In any case, I excused myself as soon as I could.
Ax escorted me back to my room because Haven had to clean up—where are the maids, though?
Turners wouldn’t survive without them even a day—and when he closed the door behind me, I knew it was locked.
Again, I understood. It’d be stupid of them to not do that.
I could do any number of things if left unsupervised, like make a phone call to the Turners, to warn Brecken of what’s coming and make sure Peyton remains safe in the Bahamas.
Although I’m losing patience now. It’s the next morning and they still haven’t said anything about what their plan is. What do they intend to do with me? I’m not of any use and they know that, so what happens now?
Also, where is he? Why didn’t he show up for dinner last night? What was he doing? Where did he sleep? Did he sleep?
“Don’t come near me, you filthy Grayson asshole!”
The scream echoes through the space and my heart drops. I wish I could pretend it was all in my head, that screeching voice, but I’m in the kitchen with Haven, who’s at the stove sautéing veggies for a Mexican casserole, but at the shout, she stops right alongside me. Meaning that she heard it too.
Meaning, it’s real.
I start running before I know what I’m doing.
I dash through the kitchen, turn the corner, and zip through the hallway leading to the living room where the voice came from, and the sight that greets me knocks the breath out of me.
Somehow it’s worse than looking a deadly bear in the eye.
Probably because back then, as scared as I was, I knew I could go to him.
I knew he’d come save me. But I don’t have that luxury now.
In fact, he’s the one responsible for this.
For bringing my best friend here.
An enraged Peyton stands in the middle of the living room, looking around frantically. I know she’s searching for me, because as soon as she sees me standing at the mouth of the hallway, her eyes, which are a color similar to mine, widen. And she breaks into action, heading toward me.
I go to her as well. We both meet in the middle somewhere, our arms instantly going around each other and holding tight.
I’m aware of the noises coming out of us, too, the screams and squeals, the exclaims all filled with a variety of emotions—shock, surprise, utter fucking relief.
But most of all, our embrace is filled with joy that we finally have each other.
It’s always been us against the world, and I really, truly thought I’d never see her again.
She’s the first to break the hug but keeps her arms around me. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God, you’re okay. You’re”—she roves her teary eyes over my face—“alive. You’re… God, I was so worried, Riri. I was…”
She trails off to give me another tight hug. Which I return, but this time I’m the one to break it. “What are you doing here? What… Why aren’t you in the Bahamas?”
She pulls a face. “Because I didn’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Because that doofus broke up with me.”
“What… Ben?”
“Yuh-huh.” She’s enraged. “With me. Can you believe it? With me.”
I’m so confused right now. “But I thought you were going to break up with him and—”
“Yes.” She cuts me off in turn as if we’re in a race to get all our questions answered, and frankly, we are.
“But he got there first. He left me stranded at the airport, Riri. Like, the motherfucker didn’t even call.
I had to call him and he didn’t pick up.
And then he had the fucking audacity to send me a text and say that it was over and that’s it.
God, I was so mad. I went back to the apartment to find you so I could vent but you weren’t there and…
” She shakes her head, swallowing. “At first, I thought you went to the library but then you didn’t come home and God, Riri, I was so scared.
I was so freaking scared. I kept calling and calling but your phone kept going to voice mail and…
I looked everywhere for you. Everywhere.
I knew it had something to do with Bo so I went to that café where you said you were going to meet him.
I went to the cops. I told them about this guy you were going to meet.
I told them he just got out on parole but they wouldn’t listen to me.
They said you must’ve run away. No one would take me seriously.
No one. I was this close to calling my brother. This close and I—”
At this, I hug her again. Because finally the fear of the unknown is washing over me and I need to hold on to her, and it looks like she needs to hold on to me too. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
I shake my head, my eyes stinging. “No, absolutely n-not.”
She hiccups. “It is.”
“No.”
“First, like an idiot, I don’t stop you from writing to a fucking c-convict.
Then I tell you it’s okay to g-go see him and then you go see him and he breaks your heart and makes you feel bad about yourself.
And I know you, Ri. I know you don’t show pain and you never cry and you’re always strong. But that a-asshole got to you. And I—”
I scrunch my eyes closed, keeping my tears at bay. “No, it was me. I went looking for him that night after you fell asleep on the couch. It’s my fault.”
She leans away from me then, her face blotched. “You went looking for him?”
I nod, my cheeks burning in shame.
“But what… What happened? How did you…”
Her questions make me realize that we have an audience.
There’s a man standing a few feet away from me that I’ve never seen before.
He’s as tall and broad as the rest of the Graysons, but he’s got them beat in the muscle mass.
His neck alone looks thicker and more corded than those of the three men I’ve met here.
I realize that when people say burly, he is what they’re talking about. Also mean. It’s probably due to that wicked scar running down the side of his face. From the top of his forehead all the way to the bottom of his left jaw, going through his thick dark eyebrow and both his lips.
But mean can be pretty, too, can’t it?
And he has to be the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.
His eyes are a glimmering green, and those scarred lips are thick and plush.
He has a killer jawline and the most stunning cheekbones I’ve ever seen on a man.
Or rather, a cowboy. Given he has a Stetson on his head and is wearing a plaid shirt with cowboy boots.
I have no idea who he is or why he’s staring at my best friend with a focus that sends chills down my spine. I’m about to break the hug and push Peyton behind me so I can figure out what’s happening, but then my gaze falls on someone behind the stranger and I freeze.
Because there he is, the man who brought me here.
Looking the way he did eight years ago.
I don’t know how I know this for sure, but I do. Maybe he wasn’t as built and thickly muscled as he is now, but I bet this is exactly what he looked like before he got put away. When he was just a cowboy, all cocky and confident, and not hardened by prison.