HAVEN
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello, you have reached Wesley Stone. I am currently unavailable—”
I hung up before the mailbox greeting could finish. I didn’t need to hear it.
I’d heard it at least one hundred times since Sunday.
“Happy fucking birthday to me,” I muttered, tossing the phone on my bed and plopping down on my back.
It had been five days since I’d seen Wesley. Five days since I’d spoken to him. Five days since he’d held me in his arms. I’d taken my time, thinking through every emotion and thought and concern I had about what Wesley revealed to me after our unbelievable night together.
The initial shock, the initial bombshell of him being a werewolf—a lycan
—wore off quickly. The fear of seeing that enormous, monstrous thing in place of my Wesley dissipated faster than I’d have thought possible.
And left in its place was anger. Anger and irritation that he’d lied to me.
That they had all lied to me.
I could understand not telling me when we were kids. How would he have told me back then, anyway? Dear Haven, by the way, I’m a werewolf? I’d have thought he was either crazy or joking.
I could even understand him not telling me before our first date. But after? There had been so many opportunities for him to let me in, to let me know the truth or to show me the truth instead of letting our relationship start with lies.
He’d even called himself my boyfriend before I’d realized that’s what he was to me, what I thought of him as. If he’d considered himself my boyfriend, then he should have told me. It wasn’t too much to ask for him to be honest with me.
So there I sat, on my birthday, alone in my apartment. Maya hadn’t been back, so I hadn’t been able to ask her about any of the werewolf stuff or talk through my feelings about it all. About how the idea of Wesley being able to change into an animal-like creature didn’t even scare me. How I knew my initial fears of him doing something that would injure me were misguided. Or how the idea no longer scared me but made me feel safe.
I didn’t want to think about that. Or what that said about me as a person.
I didn’t even want to think about the fact that it was Tuesday, and I’d been calling him for two days with no response. But there was nothing to distract me, nothing to help me distance myself from it all.
So I sat. And sat. And waited and waited and waited. Only for there to be no return call, no message, nothing.
At first, I’d worried something had happened. Maya said she needed to go home for a family emergency. Her home was in Wesley’s hometown—his pack, I guess, since they were wolves. Kind of.
What if something had happened to him? Or one of his friends? But there was no contact, not even a text to tell me he couldn’t see me yet or anything.
Then, my anger at being lied to turned into anger over being ignored. Being used. He’d given me the most wonderful night, showing me all the ways he could please a woman, please me. He’d held me close and made me feel special, treasured, safe, and loved, and then, when I asked for some space because I needed to think things through, he’d abandoned me.
Just like everyone else always did.
I rolled onto my side and curled my legs up so I lay in a tiny ball, closing my eyes against the bright light of the afternoon. I wanted to fall asleep and stay there, but Jack and Shirley expected me for dinner. Well, they actually expected Wesley and me, but clearly, that wasn’t going to happen.
I forced myself off of the mattress and trudged to my closet. I grabbed the first things I could find and changed out of Wesley’s Stanford T-shirt I’d been wearing since Friday. Then I grabbed my purse and the keys to Maya’s car so I could head over.
I figured she wouldn’t mind if I used it again since she wasn’t even there. I wanted to drive myself because I didn’t want to call Shirley and ask her for a ride and have to explain why Wesley wasn’t driving me. At least this way, I could just say something came up with his job or his family. They didn’t need to know all the details about our relationship. Or lack of. Or whatever was going on between us.
I stood on their porch with my arms crossed to block against the chill in the air since I’d forgotten a jacket, waiting for the door to open and wishing I was anywhere but there. I just wanted to go back to my apartment and hide under my heavy down comforter until rehearsals started again.
The lock clicked and the door opened, and I plastered a fake smile on my face like I had done so many times before in my life.
But that smile faltered when I saw who it was who opened the door.
“Kiddo?” Scott said, his green eyes widening by the second. “Havie, is that really you?”
I nodded, too afraid to open my mouth and say anything else, too afraid of losing control of my already tenuous hold on my emotions.
He reached out and pulled me into the house and into a bear hug, just like he used to when I was a kid. His hand came up and ruffled my hair, and he laughed. “What in the world are you doing here? How did this happen?!”
“It’s kind of a long story.” I chuckled.
“Well, start talking!” he said, leaning back to look at me again, holding me by my shoulders. “I can’t… I seriously can’t believe you’re here!” I spied Shirley and Jack standing behind him, smug smiles on their faces, Jack leaning against his cane with his arm around Shirley’s waist.
I started telling Scott about everything that had happened since I came to California. I told him about seeing Wesley and about Sebastian bringing me to Jack and Shirley. I told him about being in the ballet company, and he smiled just as proudly as Jack had done when he found out.
I told him everything. Well, almost everything. I didn’t mention my dates with Wesley or our trip to the beach or how I’d fallen head over heels for the man who used to be my pen pal.
While I spoke, we made our way to the dining room table, and Scott gasped. “Oh! It’s your birthday!” I nodded, and he laughed. “Well, happy birthday, kiddo!”
“No Tiff?” I asked Shirley as she walked into the kitchen to grab the steaks resting on the counter.
She set them in the center of the table and said, “No. The doctor put her on bed rest. Everything is fine with the baby,” she said before I could even ask. “She said she would call you tonight.” I smiled and nodded.
“Is Wesley on his way?” Shirley asked as Scott brought the salad and potatoes into the dining room.
Scott frowned. “Why would Wesley…” He glanced at me and then his parents. “Oh. OH!” His lip twitched, but I just ignored his teasing.
“Um, no. I don’t—I don’t think he’s coming,” I replied as I began to dish up my dinner.
“Did something come up at work?” Jack asked as he did the same. “Yes,” I lied, looking down at my food.
I pushed my food around the plate with my fork as Scott asked Shirley something. I didn’t even hear what they talked about as I ate my dinner slowly, taking small bites.
I was lost in my own thoughts, back to second-guessing every moment Wesley and I had spent together since that night at the lake. Was it all fake? Had it meant nothing to him?
“Haven?” Jack asked.
I blinked, then set my fork down and wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Sorry, what?” I replied.
“I asked if you’re ok?”
“Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said with another one of those fake smiles I’d perfected.
They all just looked at me with varying degrees of “I don’t believe you” plastered on their faces.
I sighed and then shook my head. “No, actually, I’m not. Wesley and I— we um… well, I asked him for some space to think about some things. I
found out he was lying to me about something—something big—and I didn’t know how to feel about it.”
Scott scowled and opened his mouth to speak, but Shirley cut him off before he could even start. “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry.” She reached across the table and grabbed my hand to give it a gentle squeeze. I forced a small, grateful smile. “Is it something you two can work through?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve tried calling him, but he won’t answer or call me back. I—” I inhaled and covered my mouth with my napkin, hoping they wouldn’t notice my trembling hands.
“Well, that doesn’t sound like Wesley at all,” Shirley said, furrowing her brow.
I nodded in agreement. “I know. And now I—I feel—”
I stopped again. I felt like I’d felt all those years ago when I’d lost my family and my only friend. I felt alone and abandoned. Like no one in the entire world cared what happened to me. Like everyone and everything was against me, and didn’t give one thought to how their actions affected me.
And I was the reason for all of it. I was the cause of my pain and my sadness. My one choice had changed the course of everything, had set my life down a path that wouldn’t have appeared if I’d just been a good kid.
Tears pricked the back of my eyes, and I put my elbows on the table and my head in my hands.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, shaking my head.
“It’s okay, Haven, you’re allowed to be upset,” Shirley said. “I ruined everything.”
“It’s just dinner. You’re not ruining anything.”
“I ran away! I ran away, and then they took me away. If I had just stayed, then everything would be different.”
Everyone froze as they realized what I was talking about. And everyone was silent as the truth of my words settled over the room.
“If I’d stayed in my room, then I’d still be Haven Kenway. I’d still be with you. I would never have lost touch with Wesley. And I’d be happy and with the only family I ever really had instead of with people who—” I pursed my lips as a choked sob tried to force its way out.
“It’s all my fault,” I whispered, not even sure if I was referring to being taken away from them or everything that was going on with Wesley or all of it.
“Haven, it wasn’t your fault,” Scott murmured from beside me. I looked at him, and his eyes were rimmed with red. “It was my fault. I should have kept a better eye on you. I should have paid better attention and realized something wasn’t right. And I should have stood up for you and insisted they let you see Dad.”
My lip trembled, and he opened his mouth again, but Shirley started talking first. “It’s my fault. I wouldn’t let you see him because I was too afraid of how you would react to his state. And I—I was too far gone in my own depression to—”
“Enough!” Jack exclaimed, his voice raspy. “It’s no one’s fault!”
I shook my head, but he stood from his chair, limped over to me, and hugged me. “It’s not your fault, anymore than it’s Scott’s or Tiff’s or Shirley’s or mine. It’s just something that happened, and there isn’t anything we can do to change it. You can’t keep blaming yourselves,” he said, looking at each of us. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered, tucking my head under his chin.
I let it all out then. All of it. Every single tear of pain and sadness I’d held back since that day the cop pulled me away from my family fell from my
eyes uninhibited. Scott took my hand and squeezed it, his shoulders shaking as he joined Dad in hugging me, and Mom came around the table and put her arms around all of us.
I realized then I wasn’t alone. Not truly. I wouldn’t ever have to feel the way I had since that day in the hospital because they would always make sure I wasn’t alone.
And as the flow of my emotions ebbed, and I let myself feel the love of my true family, I sent a small thank you out into the universe.
I didn’t believe in fate or a higher power. Not really.
But just in case there was someone out there watching out for me and guiding me, I wanted them to know I was grateful they’d led me back to my parents.
