Finding Haven (7 page)

“Mama, why don’t you take a trip without him? Do something for yourself. I can arrange
it for you.” He had offered on several occasions. He knew what her answer would be
before the words were out of her mouth.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know, I know.” He shook his head. “All right, let me get goin’.” Eventually, this
call would circle back to Emmy and his whereabouts. He had to cut her short. It was
better for her sake if she didn’t know where he was, just in case Allan did call and
try to pester it out of her.

“Love you, darlin’. Call me if you need to.”

“You too. I’ll call later in the week.” He usually tried to check in with her at least
once a week. Those check-ins are what had prompted this call. He wanted to talk to
her before Allan tried to reach her first.

“I’ll tell your father you said hello.” The words hung in the air.

“Ok, Mama, bye.” Evan left his phone on the table. His father wouldn’t return the
sentiment. They hadn’t spoken on the phone unless it was because the proud Texan accidentally
answered when Evan called.

Joe Carlson hadn’t quite gotten over the fact that his son turned down an opportunity
to play professional football for a chance to chase imaginary bad guys and gorgeous
women in pictures. It wasn’t that Evan didn’t love football, but at best he would
be a second string quarterback, more likely a tight end on a low budget team. It was
the concussions that scared him more than anything. He had had three: one in high
school and two in college. And he knew the ones coming from the pros would leave a
much deeper impact.

At first, a local department store asked if he would model for them, next it was a
national chain store, until somehow he wound up with an agent pitching him for small
parts in action films.

He fell into acting as easily as he could read an oncoming blitz. He never knew he
needed that creative outlet until he held the first script in his hands. There was
something exhilarating about creating life in the words on a page. He took his roles
seriously and approached each performance with intense focus.

He didn’t tell his father right away that he wasn’t entering the draft. He told his
mother. They both knew she could soften the blow. The way she handled a crisis was
impressive.

Evan wedged himself in the shower. He meant to ask Shug yesterday why the water turned
off so quickly. He didn’t think the entire shower had lasted ten minutes. He made
a mental note to stop by the office later today.

Sufficiently soaped and rinsed, he wrapped a towel around his waist. It was after
one, and he wanted to head back into the village. As much as he enjoyed the junk food
binge yesterday, he needed to make another store run and stock Silver Belle with some
proper groceries.

He dove headfirst into a white T-shirt and pulled a pair of khaki shorts to his hip
before fastening them. The new flip-flops felt funny between his toes, but when in
Rome, he thought.

He grabbed the keys to his Jeep and slid his sunglasses on. The blaring sun hit him
right between the eyes. Ibuprofen would be first on today’s list. He cranked the Jeep
and turned toward the village.

I
T DIDN’T
bother her that on her one day off it was raining. Haven pulled her wrap a little
tighter against her chest and repositioned a pillow behind her back. The ocean looked
flat. The raindrops beat steadily against its waves, creating the illusion that it
was calm. Haven knew it was anything but calm.

She could sit here all day rocking in the hammock with her guitar and notebook of
songs. She was tucked against the side of the house, protected from the wind while
the thunderstorm raged on around her.

The way you felt against my lips

The way you—

She changed the key and tried the notes again.

The way you held that kiss

It didn’t seem right. It didn’t feel right. Her stomach turned. Just like kissing
Travis, this song was wrong. She scratched through the words until they were illegible.

You want to clip my wings

Keep me in your cage

But that’s not who I am

And that’s not who I’ll be

Her fingers fell into a rhythm on the guitar as the words tumbled from her lips.

I have my own dreams

No matter what you say

I’m still going to believe

I’m still going to walk away

Haven stopped to write down the last few lines. These words felt right. They were
coming from a place in her heart she knew was true. She kicked her foot along the
deck so that the hammock began to swing again. She closed her eyes and strummed, humming
the words in her head. She might have just written her own anthem.

T
HE RAIN
had finally stopped. Haven stretched her arms above her head and carefully stepped
off the hammock. The only thing she regretted was that it was almost dark and that
meant the day was over. Tomorrow would come early, and so would another full day of
clock watching at the store.

She padded inside and closed the sliding glass door behind her. The air conditioner
had been running all day, and it was chilly in the apartment compared to the humid
air on the porch.

She used the pen in her hand to secure her hair in a twist. It felt good to get it
off her neck. Once she was in writing mode, everything else fell away and out of place.
She hadn’t bothered to take a shower all day or even dab on moisturizer. The plus
side was that she had written two songs that were nearly perfect.

However, her stomach was growling and her brain would need fuel if she was going to
keep up this writing marathon. In ten minutes, she had a pot of water boiling and
a bowlful of spinach leaves washed.

She dumped in a handful of spaghetti noodles when she heard the chime on her phone.
It was Travis.

I need to talk.

Crap. This was exactly what she didn’t want to do. Lucky for her, yesterday was his
day off from work. He told her he was going to surf all day. Today, she was off from
the store so they hadn’t talked since the morning after Ben’s party. Eventually, she
would have to face him. It was stupid to think two days apart would put her back in
the friend zone in his mind.

She tried to think of a casual response to keep things light.

What’s up?

I’ll be over in 5.

Haven grimaced.

Maybe another time. I’m not feeling great.

It was a complete lie, but she had spaghetti, salad, and an amazing song to craft.
She watched her phone anxiously. After a minute, she slipped it into her pocket. Travis
must have taken the hint. Relieved, she twisted the cork off a bottle of red wine
and poured a glass of the crimson liquid. It tasted sweet on her tongue. It was amazing
how it soothed all the stress from her body the text had created.

“Haven! Haven!” Travis’s voice carried through her door along with several heavy knocks.

She coughed on the last gulp of wine and rushed to the door. He wasn’t supposed to
be here.

“Trav, what’s going on?” She stepped back as he barreled past her.

He was carrying a straw bag in one hand. From the top, Haven saw pink petals peeping
out.

“Are you ok? Are you really sick?” His brow furrowed, as he appeared to do a quick
assessment of her condition.

“I’m tired. Exhausted actually. I’m having a bite of dinner, and then I’m going to
bed. Can we talk another time?” She followed him to the kitchen. Apparently, he thought
she wasn’t seriously ill.

The straw bag was on the center of her table, and he began emptying the contents:
vanilla pillar candles, pink roses, a speaker, chocolate, and a bottle of wine.

“What’s all this?” The nervous feeling had crept back to her stomach.

The surfer shifted on his feet. “The other night. It was all wrong. All wrong.” His
hair, damp from the rain, clung to his forehead.

“I know it was.” She sighed, wishing they were on the same page, but knowing that
this display of romance said something completely different.

“And I want everything with you to be perfect. So I brought it—the perfect night.”
He crossed the four steps between them and wrapped his arm around her waist.

The smell of his cologne and mint gum invaded her space.

“Trav, I’m really sorry about the other night, but—” Before she could protest, his
lips landed on hers and his hands worked their way under her shirt. The entangled
feelings of want and reason were jumbled in her head. What he was doing felt good.
However, tomorrow, neither of them would feel great when she didn’t return his affection.
Maybe in some other world she could use him this way, but they had known each other
too long, and she would always be in this place with him—not moving forward.

“Travis.” She shoved against him until she was out of his arm’s reach. “No.” She hated
the confused look on his face. “We both agreed. It was the last time.”

He approached her. “But there’s something here. There’s always been a thing between
us.”

If she told him she agreed they had great physical chemistry, it would only lead him
on, but he hadn’t read all the signals wrong. She wanted to give him that at least.
When she was with him at night, she enjoyed it. They were good together in the dark.

She shook her head. “Travis, we have been friends forever.”

“Don’t give me that damn friend speech. I don’t want to be friends. I want to be with
you.” His eyes blazed. “And you’re being stubborn about it as usual.”

“It’s not going to happen.” She crossed her arms. “I tried to tell you.” She realized
then that she hadn’t done a good job of explaining her position. Every time she said
no to him, it was accompanied by kisses. Kisses that led to other, hotter things.
Dammit. She could see how the guy was tangled up in the mess she had created.

“Nothing? You can honestly stand there and tell me you feel nothing?” His fingers
reached for her neck, but she stepped away. The last time really had happened.

“I guess that’s my answer, isn’t it?” he whispered.

Haven didn’t recognize the look in his eyes. She had known him since they were kids
and thought she knew every expression on his face. It hurt to see him look at her
as if she were a criminal. The kind of criminal who picks up a knife and plunges it
deep into someone’s heart.

“I am sorry. You know I care about you, don’t you?” This was the worst possible end.
She had to make him understand. She was trying to keep from hurting him more. He had
to see that.

“Don’t. I don’t need to hear it. This probably has nothing to do with me, and everything
to do with that.” He pointed at the guitar resting in its stand. Haven had dropped
it there on her way through the door.

It was as if he had attacked her child. Protective instincts rushed through her, and
she stepped a little closer to the instrument. She always thought Travis liked her
songs. It didn’t occur to her until now that maybe he only listened to them so he
could spend more time with her.

“You know what music means to me.” The realization that he might not understand or
even like her music mixed with hurt and betrayal in her heart.

“Yeah, I do. It means more than me, or any one else on this island.”

“You aren’t being fair. You know I could leave any day. I’m sending out songs every
week. One of the labels
is
going to call me. I am leaving, and then what? You’re going to pick up your surfboard
and follow me to Nashville or Austin? There’s no ocean in either of those places.”

“I took geography.” He leaned against the door. “You know there’s more to me than
surfing and working at the store. There are things I want to do too.”

Haven studied him. She could name his favorite foods, his favorite bands, his beer
of choice, but she had no idea anything else interested him.

“Ok, then tell me. What do you want to do? Do you really want to pack up your life
and leave Perry Island?” She had never asked because she didn’t need to. Travis was
an open book. One that she had read repeatedly.