Give us a chance, Haven.
The joy—the possibility—in those words still caused my heart to gallop, but they terrified me too, because chances were risky. Chances could go either way. Chances offered no guarantee.
I’d been forced to grieve. What kind of fool would I be to willingly put myself at risk of that again?
And the scariest part of all was that I saw a future with him too. The beautiful way it might look. I’d pictured it, clear as day, our bodies connected and our eyes locked as visions of wildflower meadows under a setting sun and a myriad of other visions—dreams—I wouldn’t think about now had flashed through my mind. Each time we were together and I was wrapped in the protective cocoon of his arms, the visions grew stronger and stronger until I could no longer shut them out.
And as I’d learned more about Travis, the question I’d asked as I’d sat reading about the terrible way his father had died, was answered.
Who had helped Travis grieve, I’d wondered.
And the more he divulged about himself, about the shames and the burdens he carried, the more I realized that my hunch was correct: no one had. And so he’d tried to heal on his own and gone about it the wrong way. Maybe the hurt part of me that had never received any closure, recognized the same wound in him.
And that had scared me too, because it had made my heart reach for him, wanting—needing—to soothe, to care for, to love.
And so yes, I’d used Gage like a wooden child’s sword, held up against a monster looming out of the dark. A useless shield against something too mighty to fight.
And all a moot point because we were leaving.
I rinsed my toothbrush, setting it on the sink just as a knock sounded at the door. I stilled, meeting my own eyes in the mirror.
“Haven, open up.”
I huffed out a breath. Easton. Simultaneously, my heart sank and relief carried me quickly to the door.
I’m leaving in the morning.
He was really gone.
I pulled it open to see my disheveled brother, sporting a serious case of bedhead, his eyes bloodshot. “You look awful.”
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically, entering the room and sinking down onto the edge of the bed. I took a seat next to him, pulling my legs beneath me.
“Rough night?” I guessed.
“Nah. Good night. I went out with the guys from the firehouse. We had a few too many, but nothing worse than that.”
I sighed internally, watching him for a moment. “So what’s up?”
He paused, running his hand through his hair before meeting my eyes. “What do you think about staying here a little longer?”
“Staying?” My eyes widened. “What? In Pelion? No. Our plan—”
“I know what our plan is. But . . . I like it here. I fit in here.”
“You burned bridges here, Easton.”
“Chief Hale? No . . . I think . . . I mean, I don’t think he carries a grudge.” He looked away as if considering something he wasn’t saying.
Fear licked at my heart like the flames that had decimated our building, our life. I swallowed. Picturing a future with Travis was one thing. Knowing he might want one with me too, if that wanting could be trusted, was another. But staying to find out? Well . . . that would take a certain measure of courage I just didn’t have, nor could I afford to gather.
“No. We have to keep moving.”
“What happens if you stop, Haven?”
My gaze snapped to his. “What?”
“What happens when you stop moving?”
My breath came short, heart picking up speed. Easton stood, walking to the bed where he sat on the edge next to me. “Haven, what happens?”
“It catches up to me!” I blurted. “It all catches up.” And then I’d have to start over, risk again, care again. No more excuses. No more temporary.
I wasn’t ready. Was I?
He laid his hand over mine. “It’s time to stop, Haven. You have to stop running. You’re dragging me with you and I don’t want it anymore.”
My head swiveled his way, a ball of despair dropping inside me. “Oh, Easton,” I breathed, my face collapsing as a sob moved up my throat. I put my hands over my face. “I’m trying to protect you too!”
Easton reached over and gently removed my hands. “But you don’t have to. You already did. A thousand times over.” He turned more fully toward me, shifting closer. “Listen, I’ve been guilty too. I acted in ways that ensured I couldn’t stay anywhere even if I’d wanted to. I burned bridges so it wouldn’t hurt to leave.”
I let out a shuddery breath. “You didn’t want to come on this road trip, did you?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, but I knew you needed it and I wasn’t going to let you go it alone.” He gave me a small weary smile. “I admit, I didn’t think we’d still be on the road two years later.” He paused, tilting his head as the smile dropped. “You sacrificed for me all your life, sis. And it was my turn. But we’ve been on the road long enough now. Let’s stay, Haven. For once, let’s stay. I like working at the firehouse. I think I might have a future there. I can see it, can you? Let’s stay,” he repeated softly. “Even if it means facing the past.”