6. Carter
6
Carter
H aven is even prettier in person. I should have expected it, but it still hits me sideways sitting across from her like this, watching the way she moves, how she tucks a loose strand of long brunette hair behind her ear, how her light hazel eyes light up when she talks, how she gestures with her hands when she gets excited about something.
She’s smaller than I pictured. I knew she was short, but seeing her curled into her chair, barely reaching the edge of the table compared to me? It’s different. It makes me hyperaware of how much space I take up, how much bigger I am than her. I’m still processing that, still trying to drink her in without being obvious, when she turns to Cassie, her expression shifting into full dramatic flair.
“This is, without a doubt, the best iced coffee I’ve ever had,” she declares, lifting the cup like she’s making a toast. “It has officially ruined me for all other coffee.”
Cassie rolls her eyes over the rim of her own drink. “So, you’re saying I was wrong to make you try something new.”
Haven groans. “Don’t make this about you.”
I watch them, amused, sipping my coffee while Haven mutters something under her breath about Cassie being intolerable. Maybe I’d keep enjoying this, keep soaking in the way she leans into their banter so effortlessly, but then… out of the corner of my eye, I see movement through the window. And just like that, my entire body goes tense. Tate. Standing outside the café. Right by the curb, leaning against a streetlamp like he’s got all the time in the world, and isn’t in the middle of some calculated move.
Shit. He’s watching, waiting. I don’t know what his next move is, but I do know one thing. I need to get Haven out of here before he makes it for me. I don’t know what he’s planning. That’s the problem.
I turn my gaze back to Haven, who’s still completely unaware, still talking to Cassie about the flavor notes in her drink like she’s a coffee connoisseur instead of someone who lives off energy drinks.
I clear my throat, pushing back from the table in what I hope looks like a casual stretch. “So,” I say, standing up, keeping my tone as easy as possible. “What’s next? You guys wanna check out more of the town?”
Haven looks up at me, blinking in confusion. “We just got our drinks.”
Shit. Okay, adjust the plan. I gesture toward the counter. “We can take them to go.”
Cassie tilts her head, eyeing me suspiciously. “You in a rush or something?”
Yes. Absolutely. Because my brother is right outside, probably deciding whether he wants to reveal himself or keep playing this sick little game where he lurks around and watches from a distance. But I can’t say that, so instead I force a grin, pretending like I’m not actively suppressing the urge to drag Haven out of here immediately.
“Nah, just figured I could show you more than a coffee shop,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Unless you guys wanna sit here all night.”
Haven considers that, sipping her drink slowly, thoughtfully, like she’s making me sweat on purpose. I try not to look out the window again.
Cassie, however, is still suspicious as hell. She narrows her eyes, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to figure out why I suddenly want to move them out of this public place. Before she can say anything else, Haven saves me. She sighs, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright, we can go.”
Relief floods my chest. I nod, too quickly, already turning toward the counter. “Cool, let’s get lids.”
Cassie mutters something about me being weird, but I ignore it, moving fast, my body coiled tight with the urgency to get out before Tate decides to step inside. Because if he does and Haven sees him? Everything I’ve been trying to control just goes up in flames.
Once we’re back in my car, the tension I’ve been carrying starts to ease—but only slightly. Tate didn’t follow us. At least, not that I can see.
But that doesn’t mean he’s done playing whatever bullshit game he’s set up for himself. I exhale slowly, flexing my fingers around the steering wheel as Haven clicks her seatbelt into place. Cassie’s in the back, already adjusting the air vent toward her like she’s reclaiming her space.
Haven tilts her head toward me, watching as I start the engine. “So, what’s the grand tour?” she asks, her voice light, teasing, like she’s testing me.
I smirk, forcing myself to shake off the residual tension. “Well, you’ve already seen our finest coffee establishment,” I say, pulling onto the main road. “We’ve also got a grocery store, a gas station, and an aggressively themed antique shop that hasn’t changed since the ‘70s.”
Cassie snorts. “Aggressively themed how?”
“Think Victorian-era mannequins, weird porcelain dolls, and an entire section dedicated to haunted-looking furniture from what I’ve heard.”
Haven laughs, tucking her legs up onto the seat. “From what you’ve heard? Have you ever actually been inside?”
I pause. “…No.” She gasps. “Carter.”
“What?” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.
“You’ve lived here your whole life and never explored the local cursed artifacts? What kind of tour guide are you?”
Cassie grins from the back. “He’s got a point to prove, Havie. Can’t risk getting hexed.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Alright, fine, we’ll make a stop before I take you back. But if we get haunted, that’s on you.”
Haven grins, sinking deeper into her seat. Then, before I can stop her, she reaches for my stereo. “Can I play something?”
I blink. “You’re not gonna ask what kind of music I like first?”
She smirks. “Nope, I’ve seen your playlists Carter.”
Cassie snorts. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Haven scrolls through her phone for a second before the speakers crackle to life with a slowed remix she had playing on her last stream filters through. I snort. “Of course.”
She grins at me, unashamed. “What, this isn’t your vibe?”
“It’s… fitting.”
We make it through two songs before my phone buzzes on the center console. I glance down and immediately curse under my breath. Tate. I grab it and hit answer before Haven can see the name on the screen. “Tate, not now,” I mutter, angling the phone away so Haven and Cassie can’t hear.
His voice comes through sarcastically. “Leaving so soon?”
My grip tightens on the wheel. “What do you want?”
Tate tsks. “You didn’t even let me say hi.” Heat flares in my chest, my jaw tightening. That confirms it, he wanted her to see him. He was waiting for the right moment, waiting for me to mess up, to give him an opening. I wasn’t about to let that happen. Right now, I have Haven in my passenger seat, Cassie watching me from the back, and I can’t lose my shit while they’re here.
I inhale slowly. “Not. Now.”
There’s a pause. Then, Tate chuckles lowly. “Relax, little brother. I’ll see her soon enough.”
The call ends. I grip the wheel harder, forcing my expression to stay neutral. I shove my phone into my pocket, forcing my voice back to normal. “So. Next stop, cursed antiques?”
Haven cheers. I pretend nothing’s wrong. And I pray like hell that Tate doesn’t make his next move before I’m ready.
The drive is short, but quiet, her humming softly along to the music while my mind spins with everything I don’t say.
By the time we park in front of the shop, the sun’s dipped lower. A bell jingles overhead as we step inside, the scent of old wood and older secrets wrapping around us like a veil. Haven grins, running her fingers over the spines of old books stacked haphazardly on a shelf, her eyes bouncing between titles, clearly fascinated despite the dim lighting and the faint scent of dust and aged wood. She’s always been like this, completely absorbed by the smallest things when we’d talk.
Cassie, on the other hand, looks less impressed, arms crossed as she side-eyes a mannequin dressed in a faded lace wedding gown, its glassy-eyed stare unsettling enough to make even me want to turn the hell around and leave.
“So,” I say, shoving my hands into my pockets as I lean against an old display case filled with tarnished jewelry and cracked pocket watches. “No real plan for the weekend, then?”
Haven glances up, like she just remembered I was standing there. “I mean… I guess not?” She shrugs, a small, uncertain tilt of her shoulders. “I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead.”
Cassie huffs out a laugh. “Which means she was panicking too hard about even coming here to think about leaving . ”
Haven glares at her. “Cass.”
“What? It’s true.” Cassie gestures vaguely between us. “You’ve been talking about this guy for months—”
Haven slaps a hand over her mouth before she can finish, her face flushing instantly. Cassie laughs into her palm.
I can’t help the slow, smug grin that pulls at my lips. “You’ve been talking about me for months?” I ask, tilting my head, watching as Haven fights for composure, her hand still clamped over Cassie’s mouth like she can physically erase the moment.
“I will end you,” she mutters at Cassie before finally dropping her hand.
Cassie wipes at her mouth dramatically before shrugging. “I mean, it’s not a lie . ”
Haven mutters something under her breath and turns back to the books, clearly avoiding my gaze now. I bite back a laugh, deciding not to push it. Instead, I let my attention drift back to the more pressing issue at hand, the fact that Haven still doesn’t know how long she’s staying.
Not knowing sits weird in my chest, a slow, creeping discomfort I wasn’t expecting.
I hadn’t considered the possibility that she might just, leave. That she’d drive all this way just to turn around and head home before I even get the chance to figure out what this actually is between us. It’s irrational, maybe. But still. I clear my throat, keeping my tone casual. “Well, if you do decide to stay, I can show you more than just a haunted thrift shop.”
Haven finally looks up at me again, something unreadable in her expression. “Yeah?” she says, voice softer this time.
I nod. “Yeah.” And for some reason, that feels more like a challenge than an invitation.