She sighs. “After all these years, you think I’d be used to leaving people behind. And I guess I am, but . . .”
I stay quiet, secretly hoping she goes on.
“They were good friends,” she says eventually. “The best I’ve ever had.”
Without thinking, I reach over and take her hand, offering comfort the only way I know how. Her hand is so much smaller than mine, I practically swallow it with my giant mitt. Her fingers are cold, so I hold on tight.
“Maybe when this is all over, you can go back to school and pick up like none of this ever even happened?” I offer.
When I glance over, she gives me a sad smile.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” The way she says it makes it obvious she doesn’t think there’s a chance of that happening, but appreciates that I’m trying.
She wipes at the dampness beneath her eye, and something inside me cracks, exposing the softness I’ve spent the last year and a half trying to bury.
The urge to retreat comes fast and sharp, my mind telling me to pull back before the crack splits fully open.
Clearing my throat, I release her hand and grip the steering wheel.
I’m acutely aware that it’s not normal to feel this connected to or comfortable with someone I just met. The only excuse that makes sense to me is that I’m projecting old and current feelings for Locklyn on her, and that’s not fair to Haven.
And dangerous for you, my mind whispers, but I silence that voice and tell myself Haven is just a favor for a friend I care about, nothing more.
Twelve
HAVEN
We stop for lunch, and when Becks finally gives me enough space to duck into the restroom, I take the chance I’ve been waiting for. He hasn’t exactly been keen on letting me out of his sight, so this is the first real opportunity I’ve had to use the burner phone I bought behind his back at our last stop.
He’ll flip if he finds out I have it.
I hide in the bathroom stall, punch the number into the phone, and listen to it ring.
The phone rings once, twice, three times, and no one picks up. I tried my parents first, but both of their numbers are already disconnected. I’m hoping that means they shut down their phones so they couldn’t be tracked and not something worse.
I chew on my thumbnail, holding my breath as it rings again, willing Kendra to pick up because she’s the only other number that I have memorized besides my parents’.
Two more rings and then . . . “Hello?”
Her voice is groggy, like she just got up even though it’s midday. Kendra is not a morning person, so that’s entirely possible.
“Kendra, it’s Haven. I can’t tell you how happy I am you picked up,” I say in hushed tones.
“Haven? Why are you calling me from this weird number? I almost didn’t pick up. Who even calls anyone anymore? Only psychopaths and stalkers.”
I stare at the stall door, half-convinced Becks will come barreling through it any second. He wouldn’t care that it’s the women’s bathroom. If I’m gone too long, he’ll come looking. I don’t have much time.
“Never mind about that. I need you to do me a favor,” I say in a rush.
“Why are we whispering?” she asks, dropping her voice to match mine. “Is everything okay?”
My throat tightens when I try to respond. I shake my head. No, everything is certainly not okay. But I can’t even begin to discuss it all. There’s no time, and there’s so much she doesn’t know about me.
“Haven?” Kendra snaps when I don’t say anything for a few more moments. “Now you’re starting to scare me. What’s going on?”
“My parents and I were attacked last night,” I say, diving right in.
“What?” she shrieks, her voice stripped of any remnants of sleep.
