Chapter 38
Haven
Afew weeks later…
I push open the door and step into the chaos I’ve been craving since the second they left.
The door shuts behind me with a soft click, sealing me inside the place that smells like mine. The scent of sleep-wrecked mornings, laundry that will never make it out of the basket, of twins I’m pretty sure I’d follow straight into the abyss.
Somewhere upstairs I can hear Carter’s voice, a counterpoint to the rougher one that follows.
I barely make it two steps before I feel him.
Tate rounds the corner first. One hand wrapped around an energy drink shake, the other curled lazily around that red neon mask like he didn’t expect anything today except a quiet stream and maybe a fistfight with his router.
But then he sees me and his shoulders stiffen. The mask slips from his fingers and his eyes go wide
“Pretty girl.”
Before I can move, Carter barrels into view behind him, his socks sliding on the hardwood. His eyes land on me and widen so fast it’s almost comical, then he sprints.
He hits me like a wave, his arms around my waist and his mouth at my temple, my cheek, my jaw, everywhere. Lifting me off the ground. “You’re here,” he whispers. “You’re really—fucking—you’re here.”
I laugh into his neck, my arms wrapping around him and burying my face in the scent of him. God, I missed them, missed this, missed him. “I said I would be.”
“I thought I was dreaming,” he mumbles. “I’ve been checking my phone like an idiot for hours. Thought maybe I’d made all of it up.”
Tate steps in behind me, his hand curling possessively around my hip. “You tell him yet?”
Carter pulls back just enough to look at me.
“It’s moving day.”
Tate exhales and drags me fully against him, sandwiching me between the two of them like he can’t fucking help it. Carter groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“I’m gonna love you,” I correct, arms winding tighter around his neck. “Both of you. Loudly. Recklessly. Possibly in public.”
Tate’s hand drops to my ass. “Claimed in every room, starting now.”
“I’m home,” I whisper, my eyes bouncing between them.
Carter’s smile breaks wide open and Tate’s fingers flex at my hip like he’s trying not to lose control.
“You sure?” Carter asks.
I nod. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
Tate leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Then we’re never letting you leave again.”
Tate’s driving like he’s got beef with the pavement. I’m still not officially use to his driving compared to Carters.
He has one hand low on the wheel, the other cradling an energy drink. I think he drinks more of them than me at this point, it’s his fourth of the day.
I shift in my seat, bracing my foot a little harder against the floor when he takes a corner too quick. He notices, and the corner of his mouth pulls.
I’m curled against Carter who has one arm draped around my waist in the backseat when he gives me a little squeeze. “You okay?”
I nod. Then sigh. “Just weird going back.”
We’re heading to my old apartment for the last time. There isn’t much left, just a few boxes I didn’t need right away, totes, and my rug that Cassie would absolutely steal if I didn’t come get it.
But still. It feels like walking into a past version of myself, one I’m not sure how to say goodbye to without cracking a little.
Tate doesn’t say anything, but he clicks on the turn signal with unnecessary aggression. Comfort, apparently, looks like controlled rage with him.
“I told Cass we’re coming,” I say, twisting the hem of my sleeve between my fingers. “She’s gonna meet us there. Help load a few things.”
“You better not try to carry the heavy shit,” Tate says, making eye contact with me in the rear view mirror.
Carter kisses the side of my head. “We’ve got it, all of it sweetheart.”
The closer we get, the quieter I get. I catch myself sitting up straighter. It’s stupid. It’s just an apartment. Just a place I slept in, ate in, existed in. But my chest still pulls tight like there’s a version of me still sitting in there, waiting to see if I come back alone.
Tate slows the car, and Carter’s hand slides down to rest over mine, stilling the way my fingers have been twisting my sleeve to death.
“You don’t have to do everything today,” he says quietly.
I nod, even though I know I’m going to.
The car rolls to a stop, then engine idling for a second. I stare out the window, taking it in piece by piece.
Tate kills the engine.
The air smells like the cinnamon plug-ins I left in every room. There’s a dent in the corner of the rug from my old PC chair.
Tate heads in first, an empty box slung over his shoulder. Carter’s right behind him, hand at the small of my back as I step inside slowly, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the windows that no longer have my curtains.
“Alright,” Tate says, clapping once, loud. “Let’s get this shit done before Cassie shows up and makes you cry.”
Carter snickers and heads to my bedroom. “Where are the pack boxes baby?”
“Closet, there’s one under the kitchen sink and one in the bathroom.”
Tate cracks his knuckles. “On it.” Just as they disappear down the hallway, the front door bursts open.
Cassie walks in and stops dead in the doorway, eyeing the twins as they bring in a couple boxes from the back rooms. “Oh good, The boyfriends are here. Do I get a moving day checklist or just emotional whiplash?”
I half laugh and hug her tightly. “Thanks for coming.”
“Duh. I came to steal your moisturizer and emotionally blackmail you into visiting me weekly.”
“You don’t need to blackmail me.”
She pulls back, fake-gasping. “Is this growth? Is this you becoming a healthy communicator?”
I flip her off. “God, I’m gonna miss this.”
Carter comes back with a small tote, setting it by the door. Tate trails behind, lugging my ridiculously huge cat paw rug like it weighs fifty pounds.
Cassie gestures vaguely toward the chaos. “So… this is it, huh?”
I nod slowly. “I’m officially moved out.”
She hums, unscrewing her drink lid. “I mean it Haven, you better fucking visit.”
“I will.”
“Like, annoyingly often. I want late-night voice notes, you raiding my pantry. I want judgmental commentary on my life choices.”
“You’ll get it all,” I promise, blinking fast. “I’m not replacing you Cassie.”
She stares at me and then exhales slowly. “I know. But damn if it doesn’t feel like the end of an era.”
I reach for her hand. “It’s not an end. It’s just… a different season.”
“Bitch,” she mutters, sniffling. “Don’t get poetic or I’ll actually cry.”
Behind us, Carter’s quietly fidgeting with a charger and a zip tie. Tate’s holding a box labeled Miscellaneous looking at a framed photo of me and Cassie.
Cassie wipes under one eye, then looks at them both. “Okay, chaos twins. Let’s load the car before I start sobbing about my abandonment issues.”
Tate chuckles. “Just say the word and we’ll carry you out like a dramatic aunt who refuses to let go.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
We pack the last of it in less than ten minutes. Tate slams the trunk closed, Carter makes sure everything’s wedged tight, and I take one last look at the place I used to call home. I close the door, lock it and slide the key into Cassie’s hand. “Thank you for dropping the key off at the office.”
“You ready?” Carter asks, his fingers laced with mine.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I am.”
Cassie hugs me one last time, then waves us off with two middle fingers and a choked laugh.
Tate’s driving back again, and Carter climbs into the passenger seat, his fingers laced with mine over the center console. I curl up in the backseat, boxed in with my rug and smaller totes.
We hit the freeway just as the sky goes dusky—pale lavender streaked with fire, the kind of dramatic color palette that looks fake through a windshield.
Carter starts humming along to the song on the radio. Tate mutters about someone in the left lane driving like they’re on a death wish.
Somewhere past the exit signs and empty strip malls, we stop for gas. Carter hops out first, grabbing his wallet and stretching with a groan before heading toward the pump. I’m too tired to move, too content to leave the bubble of warmth after Tate turned the heat up.
He doesn’t say anything at first, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t hate this,” he says quietly.
“What?”
His eyes wander toward the gas station sign glowing above us, then back to mine through the mirror. “This. Us. The… driving home with snacks in the backseat, your knee against the console, Carter making goo-goo eyes at you.”
I snort. “Goo-goo eyes?”
“You know what I mean.”
I do, but I can’t help but laugh softly.
Tate exhales slowly. “I didn’t think I’d ever want this. A real home, a real… person. But fuck, Haven. You make it hard not to.”
My heart thuds heavily. “I didn’t make you soft you know,” I whisper.
“No, but you make me want to be sometimes.”
Before I can respond, Carter opens the door and climbs back in, rubbing his hands together. “Jesus, it’s freezing. Did you guys say anything while I was gone or just vibe in complete silence?”
“Just confessed my undying love,” Tate mutters.
Carter blinks. “Wait, what?”
“Nothing.” He pulls back onto the road with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on my knee like it belongs there.
Carter leans over, brushing my hair from my face with a soft smile. “We’re almost home, babe.”
But I’m completely exhausted, the warmth of the heater, the soft hum of their voices, it’s too much. I drift, lulled by the sound of Carter talking about some weird cereal brand he spotted in the gas station, and Tate grunting in disapproval.
When we turn onto their street—my street now—I’m half-asleep.
Tate slows as we pull into the driveway. He parks and kills the engine, sitting still for a moment as Carter unbuckles and reaches back to brush his fingers over my cheek. “She’s out,” he whispers.
“No, I’m not,” I mumble, eyes still shut, voice thick with sleep. “I heard the cereal slander.”
Carter laughs, quiet and warm. “Busted.”