36. Haven
Chapter Thirty-Six
Haven
I’m terrified when he finally stops the van. The door sliding open sounds and feels like a gunshot.
He’s silhouetted by a light, and I’m disoriented for a moment, but then I recognize the cabin behind him.
We came here a few times as a youth group. The first time he tried to kiss me, we were on a walk in the woods between the cabin and the road, and he made an excuse to slow us down from the rest of the group.
I’d been so shocked, I turned into a statue, and I spent the rest of the weekend avoiding his ever watchful gaze.
If there’s intent behind this location choice, it’s chilling. On top of the whole thing being terrifying.
He cuts the zip tie around my ankles. “Get up.”
By myself? My hands are bound.
“This is where you host the youth retreats.” I try to inch my way to the door, seemingly cooperating, but taking as much time as possible. I think it’s safe to show that I’m shocked that he’s brought me here. “People will know you come here.”
“Nobody knows I’m with you. And we aren’t going to be here long.”
Then I need to make sure we stay here as long as possible. “Kaitlyn knows. I was waiting for her!”
“So you could fill her head with lies.” He shakes his head. “She didn’t want to talk to you. She won’t care that you’re missing.”
That’s insane. “Am I that disposable in your mind? Spoiled goods nobody will care about?”
“You did that to yourself.”
So that’s a yes. My skirt pulls up my thighs as I inch toward the door of the van. I don’t want to drag my body out the door, straight to my doom, but I don’t see another option. Maybe he’s not strong enough to carry me. Could I stage a sit-in protest in this van?
“Stop stalling. Do you think I’m stupid? Get up. We’re going inside.”
“I’m wearing a dress. This is hard.”
“Make slut choices, experience slut consequences.” He yanks my skirt down my bare thighs and I recoil.
Swearing under his breath, he leans in and grabs the zip tie binding my wrists. The plastic cuts into my skin as he hauls me upright, dragging me to the edge of the van floor.
“Okay, okay. I’m getting up.” I push to my feet.
Shivering, I manage to keep my dignity as he shoves me up the stairs to the front door of the two-story cabin.
“Did you bring Kaitlyn here, too?”
“Inside.”
“Sounds like a yes. With a group? Or just the two of you?”
“Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Like what? You’re the one with the inappropriate relation—”
He yanks me to look at him, then slaps my face so lightly it’s almost insulting. His expression is mean, no veneer left. “Kaitlyn is a pure young woman.”
“A pure young woman who is going to tell someone that you were the last person to see me, so you should let me go before you make this worse.”
“She isn’t going to say a word.” But he doesn’t sound as sure of himself this time.
That makes me bolder. Fuck it, as Cash would say. What do I have to lose?
Cash. You could lose Cash.
I swallow hard. “Because she trusts you to clean up this mess the two of you made?”
“There’s no mess.”
Is that a thread of confusion? That gives me great joy. “Maybe you don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“She saw me as a threat. Wrote me nasty emails.” I don’t tell him about the notes. That feels raw, and if he doesn’t know, I’m not giving him ammunition.
“You probably deserved them. She’s smart. She sees how you are.”
“She’s sixteen. She’s a child.”
“She’s a faithful young woman.” The words come out with a tenderness that makes my stomach turn over. “Which is more than anyone can say for you. Sit down and shut up.”
He shoves me backwards and I fall onto the couch.
My skirt flies up, and it’s not easy to fix with my hands like this. I shove at the fabric anyway.
Jeb stares at my legs, his brow furrowing before he starts pacing.
I’ve never been here when it’s not full of noisy teenagers. It’s a strange cabin, large but rustic, with outdated fixtures. And very quiet.
Nobody around for miles.
Nobody to hear me scream.
Don’t think about that.
Instead, I try to remember if Cash ever came up here on one of those trips.
Does he know that I’m gone? How long will it take him to realize what a terrible mistake I’ve made?
I need to be smart here. I need Jeb to stop thinking about whatever his next step of this insane get rid of Haven plan is, and to get stuck in this stage of it, where he’s angry at me and confused by me, but talking.
I need to keep him talking, because Cash will come for me, I know he will. I just need to give him enough time.
“Tell me about her,” I say.
Jeb stops pacing. “What?”
“Kaitlyn. You clearly care about her.”
“Of course I do. I care about all of my congregation.”
He always had an overinflated sense of self. It’s not his congregation. In thirteen years, he hasn’t been promoted past youth pastor. And he never will be. “The way you cared about me?”
He glares at me. “You were a mistake.”
“But doing this…getting rid of me…is Kaitlyn worth that?”
“This isn’t about that. You’ll ruin my life, with your stupid questions, misrepresenting everything.”
I swallow carefully. “I disappointed you when I left.”
“Before that.” He sneers. “And still, I waited. Did you know that? I saw your potential, and prayed for you to return to me. And then you came back, but it was all wrong. You were different. And you threw yourself at him.”
“Kaitlyn’s emails started before that. You’re twisting what happened. I kissed Cash after I was ostracized.”
“This didn’t start with that kiss. You were a slut for him from the day you returned. Couldn’t stop staring at him.”
He’s just invented a whole fiction about me, not even based on actions, but perceived attraction.
And he’s been waiting a long time to say this. As much as I loathe him, he has a lot to say, and that’s good in a twisted way. And if he’s talking, then he can’t be figuring out what to do next in this descent into vengeful madness.
“After everything. After all the patience I—” He stops himself.
“You what?”
“I would have taken you back. Even with your reputation.”
“How did I get that reputation?”
But he’s done with the conversation. He stalks to the kitchen and yanks open a drawer.
My pulse skyrockets.
No, no, no, Cash needs more time.
Tears flood my eyes and my mouth goes dry.
I made it too real. He’s built a fantasy in his head for so long that reality is an intrusion that stresses him out. And now he’s unravelling at an alarming speed.
I am the problem here. He doesn’t know how to talk to me, doesn’t like to look at me. He’s overwhelmed by any flash of my body, like my flesh-and-blood grown womanness is painful to look at.
Instead of feeling shame for that, it gives me a burst of unexpected power.
I think about Cash, how he loves my body so much. How proximity to me soothes him, makes him loving and attentive.
I hate that I made three words a dealbreaker when he gave me everything else. I swallow a sob before Jeb hears it, because I can’t make him any more mad.
If I die in this cabin, I’ll never get to tell Cash it’s okay. I can be patient and wait for him to heal. I can love him how he is, not how I want him to be.
I will not die in this cabin.