36. Dove #3
Her hand tensed in mine. “Are you kidding me? If Zee heard me say any of that it would give him hope that I might stay. All he knows is that I’m contemplating moving to New York.
” Her fingers squeezed around mine, as if in apology for what she was about to say next.
“And that’s still a big possibility. This place has me all confused.
I need to step back, take a moment to think about what I really want.
If being here is what I really want. Who knows, maybe once I’m in New York it will reawaken my love for the city.
You know how this town gets under people’s skin.
” The last part was said jokingly, but it fell flat between us.
Because I didn’t, and I never had. Not like how she’d described it.
For Reverie, Haven made her skin crawl with the need to escape. But I always had a suspicion she was trying to outrun the demons her family had created in her. This town wasn’t to blame for that, but she had to see it for herself. Once she overcame that, I think she could be happy here. With Zeke.
I didn’t want her thinking I was trying to sway her so instead I agreed, “Maybe it will. I just want you happy, Reverie. Wherever that means you call home.”
Her face softened. “That’s all I want for you, too, babe. Even if that means living your best kinky Credence life, then so be it.”
I snatched my hand out of hers with an indignant huff. “Way to ruin the moment.”
She snickered, but I was happy to hear it. I had no problems with my best friend confiding in me, but it hurt me to see her so torn. Uncertain and adrift. She was clearly struggling on where her heart wanted to call home.
There was no doubt in my mind on how much Reverie loved Zeke.
Her leaving wasn’t just for purely selfish reasons.
She wanted him to live his best life, and she’d confided in me all those years ago that if she stayed in Haven and created a life with him, she wasn’t sure she could give it to him.
She was too restless in our small town—too resentful.
She was afraid if she stayed because she loved him, she’d grow to resent him, too.
It had been one of her biggest fears, and one of her biggest motivators for leaving.
“I can’t do that to him, Dove,” she’d whispered to me the night she’d laid out her plan to leave after graduation, both of us sprawled out on our backs on my bed, the house quiet as everyone but us slept peacefully under its roof.
“I love him too much to do that. He deserves more than me. He deserves the world.”
“You are his world, Rev,” I’d whispered back, because it was true. Zeke saw only Reverie when she was around, everyone else fading into the background when she walked into the room.
“That scares me,” she’d admitted, sounding young. But then again, we were. “How can I be his world when he hasn’t even experienced it? How can he be mine? How can we know that?”
Her questions were soft and pleading, and my heart clenched in my chest, wishing I knew the answers.
“I don’t know, Rev. I think you just have to trust your feelings.”
Her hair had swished against the comforter as she shook her head. “No, I can’t. Not on this. If I stay in Haven... it won’t end well for either of us. I know that .”
Her flight had been booked the next day.
The problem was Reverie didn’t trust her feelings.
She second guessed everything, because nothing in her life had ever been stable.
Her mother had crumbled after their father left, and while she never ever said it, I suspected a large part of her was afraid of losing Zeke, and maybe even Haven, in a way.
So, in order to protect herself from the potential hurt, she kept them at a distance.
If she was beginning to want to give it a chance here, that was big. It was the kind of step she had to do because she wanted to do it. No one else.
“I’m proud of you,” I told her as she stood up to go back to drying my hair. “I just want you to know that.”
She leaned over to place a kiss on my head. “I’m proud of you, too, babe. Now let me dry your fucking hair without making me cry all over you about my feelings.” She made a face of disgust in the mirror.
“God forbid,” I muttered, but she couldn’t hear me over the sound of the dryer.
Reverie unsnapped the cape around my neck and pulled it off with a flourish. I ran my hands through my hair, in awe at how different it looked just from a simple haircut.
“It feels so soft," I murmured, my eyes fixed on the mirror where my hair was shiny and bouncy from the way she’d dried it. It still fell past my shoulders, but I could tell she’d cut a few inches off. Nothing I’d needed to hold onto, clearly.
“The power of a good haircut,” she replied as she went to put the used cape and towels in the laundry.
I watched as she rounded the corner into the backroom, and I sprang into action, grabbing the small crossbody I’d brought with me and opening it to find my wallet. I had just begun to pull it out when I heard my name called.
“Dove Riley, you better not be hiding any money in my drawer.”
I winced, wallet half unzipped as she came out from the back room. Her eyes narrowed.
Caught, I protested, “I want to pay you. Let me pay you!”
“What’s the point of having a best friend as a hairdresser if you can’t reap the benefits?” she fired back. “Consider it a perk!”
“You deserve to be paid, perk or not.” I was not going to let this go.
We glared at one another from across the salon, until finally Reverie sighed in defeat.
“I’m not taking your damn money,” she groused, but when I made a noise of complaint she added, “I will take payment in the form of food, however. I’m fucking starving.”
“I can do that.” I tucked my wallet back in for now and slung my crossbody over me. “What do you want?”
Her manicured finger tapped her chin in thought. “You know, I kind of want ice cream.”
“Ice cream for dinner?” I questioned, doubtfully.
“Why the hell not? We’re adults.”
I smiled, laughing. “Hell yeah, we are. Ice cream for dinner it is.”
"Want to go grab it while I clean up?” she suggested. “I should be done by the time you get back.”
I agreed easily, the bell chiming overhead as I made my way outside.
Betty’s salon was just a block or two off Main Street, where most of the shops in Haven were clustered.
It was the busiest part of town, more densely packed with businesses and homes.
The farther you ventured out, the farther apart the houses became, farmland sprawling for miles until you eventually reached the city.
The walk down to The Local Scoop, a small ice cream parlor that boasted handmade ice cream, was barely a five-minute walk.
I enjoyed the fresh air, the breeze picking up enough to run its invisible fingers through my hair, shifting it around my shoulders as I walked down the sidewalk.
After a few minutes I turned a corner and saw the wooden hanging sign that was shaped like an ice cream scooper.
It was a cute little shop with a covered porch sporting iron bistro-style tables and chairs to sit and enjoy your dessert.
As I rounded the porch, making my way to the steps that led up towards the entrance, my good mood soured.
Huddled in the far corner with dishes of kiddie sized scoops of ice cream in front of them was Stella and her best friend from high school, Darla.
Our eyes locked briefly as I climbed the steps.
Their voices grew hushed the closer I got, making me believe, however farfetched, that they’d been discussing me.
Ignoring them, I crossed the porch until the cool metal of the door handle hit my palm and I was entering the store.
The chill of the parlor was sweet relief on my heated skin.
There was a short line consisting of a few kids with their parents, and as the younger ones took their time picking out flavors, I inhaled the sweet, sugary air, willing myself to relax. They hadn’t been talking about me, there was no reason they would be.
I repeated that until it was my turn to order.
Reverie hadn’t asked for anything in particular, so I went with her tried and true.
“Can I get two scoops of mint chocolate chip,” I politely asked the teen behind the counter who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than here, scooping ice cream while wearing an outfit that made him look like an extra from Stranger Things. “And two scoops of cookie dough.”
“Dish or cone?” he asked on autopilot, his voice a monotonous drone.
“Both in dishes, please.”
He nodded, making the paper sailor hat on his head wobble precariously and I pursed my lips to hold in a chuckle.
When he slid the full dishes across the counter, I paid, telling him to keep the change.
He brightened. “Thanks.”
I smiled, grabbing our ice cream. “Have a good day.”
“You, too. Next!”
Another wave of people had come in, making me dodge the kids bouncing around excitedly, chattering about all the flavors they wanted to try. I thanked the gentleman that held the door open for me and walked across the porch. But as my foot hit the top step, I froze.
“Have you heard? It’s awful,” came her artificially sweet voice, pitched louder in a clear effort to make sure I heard her. And I did, heart leaping in my throat and palms instantly growing sweaty in anticipation of what she was going to say next.
Did she know?
“That farm has been in his family for generations. It’s such a shame.”
I willed myself not to turn around, but I couldn’t leave, either. Rooted in place, it was as if my feet were encased in cement, unable to move, even though I knew this was what she wanted.
Just like I knew they’d been talking about me.
“He won’t really do it, will he?” Darla replied, sounding genuinely concerned, making my confusion grow.
What the hell were they talking about?