Chapter 13
chapter
thirteen
“Some truths don’t need to be spoken. They scream in the pauses, in what’s left unsaid.” – Haven
HAVEN
The air outside the venue tastes like dust and burnt rubber.
The concrete steams beneath the heat of the Reno sun, and my boots stick slightly to the asphalt as I pace despite the shade of the transport truck.
We have three of them lined up in the loading dock bays like metal giants casting deep shadows.
The buzz of sound techs, roadies, and production crew preparing for the next show is a chaotic symphony in the background. But all I can focus on is Charles’s voice crackling through my phone. Shit connection. How is it we can put people on the moon, but I still can’t get decent cell service?
“I just don’t think a month is realistic, babe,” he says.
“Things are complicated right now at the firm. Jacobson is on my ass about this new client and making them happy. If I leave, I risk not making senior partner next year. No one has ever made it that fast, but they have hinted that I can be the first. This will be huge for both of us and our future.”
My grip on the phone tightens.
“I know, but it’s not like you’re leaving them. It’s the same company, just a different location. Besides, you promised. We discussed all of this before I took the job.”
“I know what I said,” Charles replies, too calmly, as if I’m one of his clients and not his fiancée.
As if I’m being difficult. “But life isn’t a straight line, Haven.
Sometimes there are bumps in the road that we don’t see coming.
This is a bump, not a roadblock. You’re going to be touring with the band for two months anyway.
Why are you so fired up to have me rush out there? ”
It sure as hell doesn’t feel like that.
“Honestly,” I say, taking a deep breath so I can get this out. “It just feels like if I don’t push, you won’t move at all. I don’t think you ever plan to move from New York, and it doesn’t seem like you support my dream in California.”
“I am supporting you. I’m just doing it at a distance for now.”
“Unbelievable.”
I had a feeling before I left New York that he might drag his feet, but I let him reassure me. Apparently, I need to trust my intuition.
“Look, Haven…everything is falling into place for me here, and it’s a shit time to leave. We both knew this might happen.”
It has been like this since the moment he made junior partner.
Outwardly, everything is great. He is the doting fiancé, supporting me and my dreams. But talk is cheap and behind the scenes, he has become more arrogant and says his job matters more.
He works late every night and is rarely home on weekends.
Our wedding plans have stalled…nay they never really started.
And now he is coming up with reasons not to transfer.
I understand he is living his dream, but it’s not like the law firm doesn’t have a location in California. It’s one excuse after another.
I lean against the side of the transport trailer, not caring that it feels like it’s burning through my T-shirt. Pressing the heel of my hand into my forehead, I try to think.
“It’s not just the move, Charles. Have you even looked at the wedding ideas I sent over?”
“Not yet,” he says. “Work’s been crazy, but I will.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, what’s the rush? Why are you pushing so hard?”
I grind my teeth together.
“I’m not, but I’m excited, and you don’t seem to care,” I say, trying and failing to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Have you at least talked to your mom about using the country estate for the wedding?”
He hesitates. “It’s complicated. It’s my mom, and you know she thinks we are rushing into marriage too soon. I need to approach her at the right time.”
“What you really mean is that she still thinks you can do better than me.”
“Haven…”
“Save it. I know she hates me and thinks I’m not good enough for you.
She’s made it very clear that she wants you to marry a politician’s daughter or someone else she deems worthy.
I can only imagine the party she threw when she found out I was taking a job across the country.
I’m sure she’s trying to convince you that leaving New York and marrying me is a bad idea and will ruin your precious career. ”
“She hasn’t done anything of the sort, and my career is special to me, just as yours is to you. So, don’t make this a fight.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. This has been going on since before we got engaged, and it’s really starting to feel like you only asked me to marry you to placate me. Do you even want to get married?”
A long pause. “You’re really not going to let this go?”
“No, Charles. I’m really not. We are talking about the rest of our lives, not a weekend vacation. And you didn’t answer the question.”
“I’m not going to dignify that question with a response, and—”
Click.
Nope, I’m done. I can’t let Charles rile me up any more than I already am. I don’t even have it in me to be sad. I’m just…tired. Emotionally hollowed out.
I shove the phone in my back pocket and straighten up, brushing invisible dust off my jeans. When I turn, I nearly collide with Cyrus.
He is like a fucking cat and looks way too at ease as he leans one shoulder against the truck, arms crossed, sunglasses down. The smirk he is giving me could break laws in several states.
“How long have you been standing there?”
From the smug look on his face, I assume the whole time.
“Long enough to know that you’re being played, and that asshole’s never moving. He wanted nothing more than to lock your pussy up with a ring before you left. I bet he has three girls on the side already.”
“Wow. All of that from one conversation.”
Rolling my eyes, I try to walk past him, but he steps in my way.
“Jesus, Haven. You really think he plans to marry you or move? Wake up! That guy might have said it, but he didn’t mean it.”
I don’t take the bait. Instead, I just shake my head.
“You don’t know anything about my relationship, Cy.”
“I don’t have to meet this guy to know a placeholder convo when I hear one,” he shoots back. “Trust me.”
Ouch. I step back like he has sucker-punched me. The worst part…I agree. It is like he’s reaching into my head and heart, tugging at all the insecurities that are already forming.
“Trust your gut,” Cy says, pulling a pack of peanuts out of his back pocket and opening them.
Even the rustle of the bag as he pours some into his hand annoys me.
“Well, my gut is saying to stay away from you. So, I guess you have a point, I should listen.” I take a step, and Cy blocks my path again. “Don’t make me go under the trailer. I will.”
“Haven, you know I’m right.”
I cross my arms and glare at the biggest asshole in my life.
“Right. And what exactly are you an expert in, Cy? Healthy commitment? Stable emotional boundaries? Respect, honesty…” I hold up my fingers, listing off all the things that Cyrus Vale is not.
He plows through boundaries, laughs in the face of respect, has no idea what honesty is, and commitment… forget about it.
“Touché.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
There is something frayed or haunted in his stare.
“But that is actually my point. I was the player. I used those lines. I said all the things to get in whoever’s pants I wanted to and then didn’t bother to wave goodbye.
If anyone knows what a gaslighting convo sounds like when they hear one, it’s me. ”
“Don’t I know it,” I mumble.
“What does that mean?”
Cy’s brow furrows, and he looks genuinely confused. How can he even ask me that? Then again, our one night was nothing more than a blip on his radar. Probably forgot it even happened.
We aren’t going to get anywhere with this conversation. My gaze drops to his hand. The bandage is new.
“What the hell happened to your hand?”
Without thinking, I grab his arm and inspect the white wrapping that is so thick it looks like he’s getting ready to climb into a boxing ring.
He looks down like he forgot all about it.
“Cut it. Shaving.”
“Uh…huh…sure.”
Cy just pulls the glasses down and gives me a wink.
I narrow my eyes.
“Did you punch something?”
“Relax. No walls, doors, or even cars were harmed in the making of this wound,” he teases.
But I’m not laughing as he lists off all the things he’s put his fist through in the past. I know Cyrus, and he is hiding something.
I hold his hand tighter, and his thumb runs over my fingers, making my heart skip a beat. Stepping in closer before I can stop myself, I lower my voice.
“Cy?”
“Haven?”
“Please tell me that the police aren’t going to show up here and that you don’t need stitches.”
A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest. Good to see I still amuse him.
“I’m fine. I promise, Butterfly.”
“Don’t call me that. And saying you’re fine is not the same as answering the question.”
His eyes linger on me, longer than they should. They bounce around my face and settle on my lips. The moment stretches and warps. Something pulls tight between us like the breath before a scream.
“I should get back inside,” I say, letting his hand go.
He actually steps aside, but his eyes never leave me. As I pass by, he grabs my arm. I freeze and look up at him, then immediately regret that decision. His icy eyes chill me to the bone as much as they warm me to my core.
“Charles may have made his claim public. But I’ve got the pieces he’ll never touch,” Cyrus says, his fingers lingering before he lets go.
“Don’t, Cy.”
“Don’t what?”
“This…whatever you call this. Don’t act like you want something more. We both know that’s bullshit,” I say and turn to leave.
“Haven?” I stop and look over my shoulder. “I prefer your hair in the wild colors, especially the red, it suits who you really are inside. This blonde just looks…like you’re trying to fit into a life where you don’t belong.”
I press my lips together, wanting to jump on him and smack the smirk right off his face. Instead, I choose the high road and walk away. But that doesn’t stop the feeling of his stare on my back. It’s as if it holds electricity, the sensation crawling down my spine.
Dangerous…Cyrus Vale needs to wear a warning label and have an electric fence around him like at Jurassic Park.
So. Fucking. Dangerous.