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It wasn’t long after that Ream came to live with us and he was seriously screwed up for a while.
“She needs professional help,” Kite said.
“I know that, but she won’t go. She won’t talk about it,” Ream said.
I heard the scrape of a chair and turned as Ream got up. He looked at me for a second then did something I never expected. “I don’t know what it is between you two, but I know it’s something. She trusts you.” He took a deep breath and I knew this was hard for him. He knew my past, and my track record with chicks sucked. But there was resignation in his eyes and maybe he was getting that to me, Haven wasn’t just a chick. She’d become my friend and I cared about her. No, it was more than that. I loved her, but that was not something Ream needed to hear right now.
Ream strode over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. “I love her,” he said.
“I know.”
“Thanks. For what you did tonight.”
“I’d do anything for her.”
Ream paused a second, then nodded and went inside.
Logan had obviously waited until Ream left before he said, “We have another issue.”
Kite shifted and his chair scraped the cement floor. “What’s up?”
“Received a few messages,” I said.
Kite’s brows rose. “That Tammy girl?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know for sure. At breakfast with Ream and Kat, I had the first one. Some rambling about sex. Another one before we went to Avalanche about me liking to fuck whores.” I shut my phone off when Kite and I were at Avalanche, but when I checked, there were three more, all explicitly sexual.
“Your mom or dad give it out?” Kite asked.
I shook my head. But fuck, you couldn’t keep anything private anymore.
Logan tagged his water bottle. “Bad timing.”
I nodded. “This crap with Tammy cannot touch Haven.”
“It won’t,” Kite said. “Go, be with her. We’ll worry about the rest.”
“Thanks.” I squeezed him on the shoulder as I walked by.
I went back upstairs and carried Haven to her bedroom, not wanting her to wake up in Kite’s bed, then lay beside her and fell asleep with my arms wrapped around her.
I WOKE SMOTHERED in weighted heat. My eyes flew open with panic thinking I was back at the club, but I immediately recognized the tatted arms curled around me. His breath lightly caressed the nape of my neck with each exhale while his heart beat against my back, steady and rhythmic.
Soothing.
Comforting.
Why was Crisis sleeping in my bed—?
I sucked in a lung full of air as it slammed into me. I choked back the strangled cry, tears filling my eyes. Last night. Oh, God, last night I broke. The buried particles of me broke through.
Crisis and Kite saw it happen.
My throat was raw and I knew what it was from—screaming.
A tear slid down my cheek and landed on Crisis’ arm, darkening the ink as it soaked in.
I stiffened when his hand reached for mine and linked our fingers together. He rested them on my abdomen and gently squeezed. I was desperate to crawl away, to run and hide, find a place to build up my shield so I could forget and be strong again. That was my strength when I was held captive, to shield myself from what was happening—numbness. But now . . . I knew where I’d find strength. Letting those I cared about in.
“It’s going to be okay,” Crisis whispered, his voice vibrating against my neck. He kissed the back of my head, and for a few seconds, I took in his words and believed them. Reality was there was a chance I’d never repair.
“What if it’s not?” Losing Charlie lived inside me like a rusted chunk of metal ready to slice me open if I took a wrong step.
He was quiet and Crisis rarely had nothing to say. His leg shifted and brushed against mine and I should’ve wanted to get away, but with Crisis I didn’t. There was something deeper in him that I trusted. And right now, I needed that.
“We find a way.”
He said “we” and it was as if a thousand pounds lifted off my shoulders. I wasn’t alone. I never had been, but I’d made it that way. Crisis had been there all along, building something I didn’t even realize, but it was brick by brick until I stood within his encompassing strength and trust.
“Okay.” With that one word, I gave him me.
There was a comforting silence as we laid together, and it was us letting one another in. Trusting. Accepting and giving at the same time. Woven hands interlocked us.
It was going to be okay.
I sighed and, in response, he kissed me on the head again.
“My brother.”
“Yeah, he’s here. He’s worried.”
Shit, that was the last thing I wanted. This was what I’d been trying to protect him from.
“He’s worried about you, but he’s okay, Haven. He’s even accepted this. I think he just wants to know that you’re safe.”
I shifted around so I lay on my back and Crisis moved up on his elbow, so he could look down at me. “Meaning?”
With his teeth, he played with his lower lip, his eyes on our hands that were still linked, fingers lightly stroking. “He’s okay with me being here with you. He knows we’re friends and I think he’s realized that.”
Oh. That was good.
He fell back against the pillow and let my hand go as he put his arm across his eyes. “Jesus, I was scared, Haven.”
And maybe this was why I connected with Crisis. He was real. There was no pretending that he was okay with what happened. That it hadn’t freaked him out.
I wanted to say ‘me too,’ but admitting I was terrified was too hard to say aloud yet.
I was swimming in an ocean of black, unable to find my way back to shore. I didn’t know whether I’d sink to the bottom or if I’d have enough strength to tread water until shore found its way to me. But I had a life jacket. I had Crisis. And if I sank to the bottom, I knew I’d lift back up—to him.
