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5:46 A.M.
The faint sound of music filtered into the room, a welcome disruption from the agonizing silence. The soft melody comforted Haven. She relaxed as the tension left her body, but it did nothing to shut off her mind. She lay awake, listening as she stared at the clock, wishing for relief.
6:30 A.M.
The time they’d gotten up at the ranch. Haven climbed out of bed after the music stopped and wiped the tears from her face. She quietly slipped into the library and wandered along the tall stacks, running her fingertips along the spines of the books. She kept the light off, but the window let in enough of a glow for her to see. A strange sense of peace settled over her. For the first time in a long time—possibly ever—Haven almost felt safe.
Almost.
She walked to the window and gazed out, the sky lightening as the sun rose. The backyard was lush and green, trees scattered throughout the clearing with the edge of the forest a few hundred yards away. Haven wondered how far the trees went and which direction the closest town was, how long it would take someone to get there on foot.
Eventually, a quiet cough warned her she was no longer alone. Carmine strolled toward the stairs with a white bandage on his head that hadn’t been there yesterday. The sight of him made something inside of Haven twist.
His gaze shifted to her, and he jumped, grabbing his chest. “Christ, what are you doing?”
“Just looking,” she said, motioning toward the window.
“In the dark? You couldn’t turn on a light?”
She tore her eyes from his. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Just try to make some noise next time. You’re worse than a damn cat sneaking around. Maybe you need a bell.”
Traitorous tears formed. Don’t let him see you cry, she silently chanted. “I’ll try.”
“Who are you, anyway? What are you doing here?”
“Haven,” she said quietly, peeking at him.
He gazed at her peculiarly. His eyes were bloodshot, dark bags under them. “Heaven? No, this definitely isn’t Heaven. But I get why you’re confused, since I’m standing in front of you.” She stared at him, and he cracked a smile. “I’m kidding. Well, kinda . . . I have been told I’ve taken a girl to Heaven a time or two.”
“Haven, not Heaven,” she said, louder than before. Nothing about the conversation made sense to her. “My name’s Haven. It means—”
“I know what it means.” His sharp voice cut her off. She recoiled from the tone and pressed her back against the cold glass of the window. His moods changed too quickly for her to get a read on his frame of mind. “So, what happened to you? I mean, no offense, but you’re kinda fucked up. Looks like you’ve been to Hell and back.”
ne went through the emergency room entrance at the hospital, bypassing the nurse’s station for his father’s office on the third floor. Vincent sat at his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. He motioned for Carmine to come closer and checked his wound. “You should get a few stitches.”
“Nice.”
Vincent removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What were you thinking?”
“He started it.”
His father shook his head. “It’s never your fault, is it? There are only going to be so many ‘get out of jail free’ cards, Carmine. Someday you’re going to get yourself in a situation that has no way out, and you’re finally going to have to learn to live with the consequences.”
Carmine scoffed. “Right back at you.”
Vincent walked him down to a room in the emergency room, and Carmine took a seat on one of the stiff beds as he waited to be sewn up. After a few minutes, the door opened and a young blonde-haired woman in hot pink scrubs stepped in. “My, my . . . look who it is.”
“Jen.” Carmine nearly gagged as he said her name. If ever the term gold digger was to make it into the dictionary, Carmine was sure her picture would be plastered beside it. Even he wouldn’t touch her, but his father had. He’d walked in on them one day. The memory of what he’d seen was something he often tried to drink away.
Three stitches and a stolen double dose of Percocet later, Carmine strolled toward the exit, feeling like he was floating on air. Vincent cornered him in front of the building, still scowling. “Go straight home. We’ll talk when I get there.”
Carmine mock-saluted him as he made his way to the parking lot. His car was parked in a spot reserved for a doctor, right in the front near the building. Reaching into his pocket for his keys, his brow furrowed when he felt a piece of paper. “Fuck.”
He’d forgotten about the list, after all.
He climbed into the car, debating for a moment before driving through town. He bypassed the road that led toward home and instead took the highway to Lisa’s.
