CHAPTER FIVE #3
Another thing about her: She’s kind. And friendly.
I’ve only been here half a day, and so far, she’s shown no signs of hostility toward me even though I’m a Turner, the real Turner girl.
If anything, she seems sympathetic to my and my best friend’s situation.
After I arrived here and found Reverie in the house—unharmed, thank fucking God—Haven showed us to a room where we could have some privacy, which was where I finally learned the truth.
She even brought us food at lunchtime without our having to ask.
And once that was done, she showed me to this room where I’ll be staying until they let me go.
Yes, she’s supposed to keep an eye on both Reverie and me, something we were made aware of, but so far, she’s been nice about it.
Doesn’t mean I trust her, though. She’s a Grayson.
“Everything’s fine,” I reply.
She accepts my answer with a nod. “I brought you some clothes.”
I glance at the stack of clothes in her arms before pointing to the borrowed dress she brought me earlier that I’m wearing. A simple blue sundress with spaghetti straps and a knee-length hem. “I already have clothes.”
Haven throws me a little smile. “You’re going to need more if you’re staying here for a while.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Does that mean I have a choice to leave?”
She shakes her head. “Not really, no.”
“Didn’t think so.”
She watches me a beat. Then, “I’m really sorry about that.”
Despite her kind behavior so far, I can’t help but ask, “Why are you so nice to me?”
If she’s taken aback by my question, she doesn’t show it. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?”
“Because I’m a Turner.”
“So?”
“And you’re a Grayson.”
“I know.”
“This isn’t normal,” I say, gesturing between us. “Us being cordial with each other. We’ve got beef.”
Her lips twitch. “We’ve got more than beef. I think they call it a war.”
By “they,” I know she means the people of this town.
The Grayson–Turner rivalry is pretty famous in Black Rock.
Actually, it’s pretty famous in the whole state of Montana.
Tales of our family feud have been horrifying and entertaining people for generations.
Everyone who’s anyone knows if they ever started a joke with “A Turner and a Grayson walk into a bar,” there would be no happy ending to it.
“Well, there you have it then,” I murmur.
“But what they won’t say is that it’s a stupid war,” she says. “And it’s between stupid men who can’t break the toxic and violent cycle their ancestors started. I don’t have any particular interest in owning more land, do you?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
“And there you have it.” She shrugs. “There doesn’t need to be any beef or war between us.”
“That easy, huh.”
“That easy.”
I still stand there with my spine straight and my mind racing when Haven breaks the silence and continues, “Look, I don’t blame you for not trusting me or any of us.
What’s happened this past week, it… wasn’t right.
I don’t support it, and I don’t care if you’re a Turner or I’m a Grayson.
I don’t care that we’re supposed to be enemies or whatever they want us to be.
We don’t have to be best friends or share our deepest, darkest secrets.
We don’t even have to talk to each other, but as long as you’re here, in my home, I consider it my duty to make your stay, forced or otherwise, as pleasant as I can.
Which includes”—she raises her arms with the clothes—“giving you more clothes. Plus, there’s a little get-together happening in a couple of hours, and you’re definitely going to need something to wear to that. ”
It surprises me a little, but I believe her. I believe this isn’t an act on her part. So I lose some of my rigidness and nod. She relaxes a little bit, too, and at my nod, she walks farther into the room and hands the clothes to me. I give her a small smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She smiles back. “I hope they fit. I tried to find the closest size possible.”
“So what’s this party about?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s kind of a welcome home gathering,” she says. “For Arsen.”
“Ah, welcome back from doing time for attempted murder. Gotcha.”
She winces slightly. “I didn’t mean—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “There’s no love lost between my father and me.”
And there isn’t. In fact, if I’m being honest, I was kind of disappointed when I realized Arsenal Grayson didn’t finish the job.
That it was an “attempted” murder and not just plain murder.
Maybe that makes me bloodthirsty and evil, but I don’t care.
I’ve seen enough of this world to know that sometimes monsters need to be killed rather than rehabilitated.
I can see Haven wants to ask me questions, but she doesn’t.
She simply accepts my statement and says, “Well, everyone’s gonna be there.
A lot of people from town, all the ranch hands, and…
” She trails off, and somehow I know what she’s going to say.
I know who she’s going to bring up. “And he’s going to be there too.
I want you to know that you’re completely safe.
From him. He won’t… do anything. He’s not even like that. He—”
“I’ll be there,” I say, cutting her off, my heart pounding. “Thanks for the clothes.”
I don’t need to hear about him, not yet. Not until I’ve gathered all of my senses and my courage. And then I plan to find out everything there is to know about my stalker.