Chapter 11
Eleven
BECKS
“This better not be who I think it is,” Talon says by way of a greeting.
“She needs to know if her parents are all right,” I answer, also dispensing with any of the usual phone pleasantries.
We’re sitting in a superstore parking lot after buying the burner phone. I have it on speaker so Haven can hear as well.
The sigh on the other end of the line is loud. “It’s not safe. You were supposed to wait a few days before reaching out.”
I cut my gaze to Haven, who’s wringing her hands and chewing on her full bottom lip.
Unintentionally, my gaze drops to the lip, and the urge to reach out and gently free it flares in my chest, catching me off guard.
“The last time she saw her dad he was lying in a puddle of his own blood,” I say bluntly, then wish I hadn’t when Haven flinches. “She just wants to know if her parents are okay.”
“I get that,” Talon answers. “He’s going to be okay. Locklyn and I made it here in the middle of the night. By then he was already out of intensive care. The stab wound wasn’t too deep and missed the major organs. He was lucky. We’re actually hoping he gets discharged tomorrow.”
The relief is visible on the smooth curves of Haven’s face.
“Can she talk to one of them?”
“No. Not right now,” he says, and Haven’s face falls. “He’s getting some tests, and his wife went with him.”
Clicking the phone off speaker, I bring it to my ear, feeling like I need a little privacy when I ask, “How’s Locklyn holding up?”
A twinge of guilt rises up that confuses me. Locklyn’s still my friend. She’s just been reunited with her birth parents. Why shouldn’t I feel free to ask about her?
There’s a long silence before Talon answers. “It’s Locklyn. She’s the strongest person I know.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I say, gripping the phone tighter.
This has to be hard for her, and as her friend I wish I was there to help. But at the same time, she has Talon, so she doesn’t need me right now.
“She’s holding up,” Talon finally admits. “I think she doesn’t really know how to feel about everything, so she’s focusing on keeping her parents safe.”
“How did the reunion go?”
“It didn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“We haven’t approached them yet.”
That surprises me. “They’re going to know exactly who she is the moment they lay eyes on her,” I say, glancing over at Haven.
With the sunlight streaming through the window, I notice she doesn’t have as many freckles as Locklyn does.
“We’re going to do it soon,” he says. “Definitely before he gets discharged. She’s just working up to it.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me.
We talk logistics for a couple more minutes. He tells me that once they leave the hospital, they’re ditching their phones too and going dark. The plan is to find a safe place for Haven and her parents to stay then head back to the Order and try to figure out who is betraying us.
He has the number for this burner phone, and we make arrangements to talk in two days.
By then I should have found a safe house for us.
He tells me not to call again, and I glance over at Haven to make sure she heard it too.
As a creature, she probably has enhanced hearing, easily picking up every word of the conversation. She rolls her eyes, but nods.
“What’s she like?” Haven asks after we get back on the road.
I don’t know why, but the question catches me off guard.
“Locklyn?” I ask, even though it’s obvious.
“Locklyn, Rose, whatever you want to call her.”
I cut her a quick look. “Haven doesn’t really go with Rose.” Not to be rude, but it’s just an observation that came to mind earlier.
“That’s because Haven isn’t my birth name. It’s Lily. My parents changed it when we went on the run.”
Lily. For some reason, it feels like it fits her. People think lilies are fragile, delicate, but they grow back year after year.
“Nice,” is all I say, keeping my thoughts to myself.
“So anyway, I already know we look alike, but that’s it.”
“What do you want to know?”
I catch her shrug out of the corner of my eye. “You said you were best friends, so you must know her really well.”
I nod, because it’s certainly true. Up until Chaos, I’d say I knew her better than anyone, but I suspect Talon has taken that place in her life now.
Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t make me sad anymore.
“How did you meet?”
I smile.
“I have a sister too,” I start. “And I’m a twin as well.”
Her brow lifts at that.
“Ensley. She was the other girl in the photo,” I explain, and Haven nods.
“So the first year of elementary school, a girl was picking on my sister during recess. I caught it going down, but I was on the other side of the playground. I ran over to stop it, but before I could get there, this tiny little slip of a girl had stepped between them and popped the bully square in the face. Gave her a bloody nose that sent her running off crying.”
I chuckle at the memory, remembering how shocked I was that someone so small could do so much damage.
“I couldn’t have been more impressed. The three of us were inseparable ever since.”
“She sounds fierce.”
“She is. But she didn’t have an easy go of things. Locklyn’s human side is strongest, so she doesn’t have any powers.”
“She doesn’t?” Haven asks.
I shake my head. “No. That was hard for her in the creature world. Some creatures, well, most of them actually, equate magic with value, and once everyone’s magic started to come in, and hers didn’t, she was bullied a lot.
It made her tough. Tougher than she should have had to be.
I always did my best to protect her, but I wasn’t there around the clock. ”
“She probably didn’t expect you to fight her battles for her,” Haven says, and a bitter laugh shakes my chest.
“No, she certainly didn’t. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t stop me from trying. Even when maybe I shouldn’t have.”
Giving Locklyn her independence, not believing in her strength, was one of the things that put a wedge between us.
“You love her,” Haven says, and the car jerks a little when I whip my head toward her.
“What?”
“It’s obvious you care about her a lot,” she clarifies. “She’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
Oh, she just means friendship love.
“I’m the lucky one,” I say honestly, and a sad smile appears on Haven’s face, making me wonder what she’s thinking.
But before I can ask, she wipes the expression from her face and, with a smirk, asks, “So tell me, how much do we look alike?”
“Well, you are twins,” I offer.
“Yeah, but not all twins look exactly alike.”
I glance over at her and raise an eyebrow. “You saw the picture in my wallet.”
“That super faded one?” she asks with a light laugh. “Okay, fine. We’re, like, the same person then, at least appearance-wise.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say that,” I hedge, reluctant to admit how many differences I’ve already categorized.
When we first met yesterday, all I saw in her was Locklyn.
But every time I’ve looked at her since, it’s their differences that stand out to me.
The latest one is her fingernails. Locklyn always keeps hers short, since it’s better for boxing and hand-to-hand combat, but Haven’s are almond shaped, painted burnt red.
I don’t even know if Locklyn ever bothered painting her own nails.
Haven leans in, putting her elbows on the raised console between us, and I get a whiff of her scent. Smoky vanilla.
“Really? Is my nose bigger? My eyes closer together? Can she do this?” she asks, and when I steal a look her way, her eyes are crossed and she’s sticking her rolled tongue out at me.
Unexpected laughter bursts from my chest and it feels good.
When have I last laughed like this?
The answer is easy. Last night when we were standing in the red-drenched honeymoon suite. But before that . . .?
Maybe months. I can’t honestly remember.
There’s a lightness in my chest that’s completely at odds with the dire situation.
“I like it,” she says, and I cut my eyes back at her to find her watching me with a soft smile, before refocusing on the road.
“Like what?”
“Your laugh. It’s a good one.”
“There are bad ones?” I ask, arching a brow as I give her another quick glance.
“Oh yes.” Her voice sounds serious, but I resist peeking at her again. “My friend Tate sounds like a hyena when she laughs.”
That brings a smile to my face. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Hand to heart, I’m not. In fact, if anything I’m downplaying it. It’s an auditory offense. She’s lucky she’s so pretty.”
I shake my head, unable to hold in the chuckle that shakes my chest. It falls quiet in the car, and not a comfortable silence. There’s a heaviness that saturates the space.
When I flick my eyes toward her, Haven’s face is still pointed in my direction, but her eyes and the pleat between them tell me she’s not really seeing me.
She chews on her bottom lip, deep in thought, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her that her upper lip is fuller than Locklyn’s, but I hold back.
It’s not that I don’t want her knowing that I’ve stared at her mouth, but . . .
I also don’t want her knowing that I’ve stared at her mouth.
What is going on with you? Pull it together, I order myself.
“Everything okay?” I ask, not able to help myself from asking. She just looks so sad all of a sudden.
I catch a small shake of her head out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about my friends, Tate and Kendra. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I never get to say goodbye.”
My chest tightens, but there’s really nothing I can say or do to help her. Fleeing was a necessity, as is cutting off all communication in order to stay off the radar.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like a jerk.
She sighs. “After all these years, you think I’d be used to leaving people behind. And I guess I am, but . . .”
I stay quiet, secretly hoping she goes on.
“They were good friends,” she says eventually. “The best I’ve ever had.”
Without thinking, I reach over and take her hand, offering comfort the only way I know how. Her hand is so much smaller than mine, I practically swallow it with my giant mitt. Her fingers are cold, so I hold on tight.
“Maybe when this is all over, you can go back to school and pick up like none of this ever even happened?” I offer.
When I glance over, she gives me a sad smile.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” The way she says it makes it obvious she doesn’t think there’s a chance of that happening, but appreciates that I’m trying.
She wipes at the dampness beneath her eye, and something inside me cracks, exposing the softness I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to bury.
The urge to retreat comes fast and sharp, my mind telling me to pull back before the crack splits fully open.
Clearing my throat, I release her hand and grip the steering wheel.
I’m acutely aware that it’s not normal to feel this connected to or comfortable with someone I just met. The only excuse that makes sense to me is that I’m projecting old and current feelings for Locklyn on her, and that’s not fair to Haven.
And dangerous for you, my mind whispers, but I silence that voice and tell myself Haven is just a favor for a friend I care about, nothing more.