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“Call surrounding hotels, Barbara. Check if you can house the overflow there. And please…” I trail off, pinning her with a serious look. “House them all. Every night. The cost doesn’t matter.”
“Of course, Mr. Burton.” She nods sadly as she moves off to do as I bid.
Barbara Liesmann is the widow of a retired Army sergeant who’d taken his own life. Her devotion to Haven knows no bounds, and so, she is the only one here who knows the true identity of the man who bankrolls the place.
Everyone else knows me as Vinny, the volunteer who gives extra servings of dessert when Barbara’s not looking.
I strip off the now filthy apron, toss it into the wash basket by the door, and move to leave, only to be stopped by Daryl. He’s alone and smiling as he heads toward the overnight quarters.
“You’re no devil.” He shoots me a wink. “You’re an angel, and I’ll hear no more on the subject, Vin.”
I snort as my next words tumble easily from my mouth despite not having spoken them in over a decade now.
“Even the devil was once an angel.”
Those words take me back to the day that I last spoke them. To a little girl with big gray eyes and a cheeky grin who took my mind away from the hurt I’d caused the ones I loved the most.
And suddenly, it makes sense. My stomach dips as my breathing falters at the realization.
Wren is the girl from the cemetery.
The little girl, whose pure non-judgment on a very tough day, stopped me from breaking all vows of staying away and pleading for forgiveness from all parties involved.
The girl whose purple coneflower gave me comfort when all other avenues had been exhausted. When no one else cared.
WhenIdidn’t care.
ThewomanI’ve been inexplicably drawn to, unable to stop my walls from crumbling to dust in the merest whisper of her presence.
ThewomanI hurt today. Deeply.
My jaw tics as frustration flows through me before I slip out onto the dark Tribeca street and jog all the way home to Rogue.
To her.
My feet take me straight to the closed door of her bedroom. Sweat beads my brow as I loiter outside, eventually pressing my ear to the wood, needing just a taste of her presence.
A bare acknowledgment. A moment to breathe the same air as the woman who’s slowly woven a spell over me.
And it’s with that thought I’m unable to stop myself from pulling down the handle gently, peeking around the door to allow my eyes to land on her innocently sleeping form.
She’s on her side, hand tucked beneath her cheek as she snores lightly.
My smile is hesitant but genuine as I watch her, drawing purpose from each breath she inhales. From each moment she exists.
From the knowledge that she’s safe, under my roof, and I’ll continue to keep her safe for as long as she needs.
Especially from my toxic self.
* * *
WREN
Jules kills the engine, pointing down the street to a large building with a huge red placard out front.
“What’s Haven?”
I twist to a pensive Jules, whose eyes are fixed on the four men standing out front alongside an elderly lady. “I met Vaughn here.”
