I inhaled deeply as Clawdia limped into the room, rubbing against my legs. I picked her up and set her on the couch, and then headed upstairs. I knocked on Haven’s door but there was no answer. I thought I heard the shower running from inside and so I turned and headed to my own room. I had to start getting ready for work anyway.
As I stepped under my own shower spray, washing my body, I felt cleansed in a different way too. I hadn’t thought talking to Phoebe was necessary. But I was glad to get the sense of closure. And I’d meant what I said. I hoped she’d go on to find her own happiness too, whatever that might mean for her.
Dressed in my uniform, I stopped by Haven’s room, but again, there was no answer, and when I walked out the front door I saw that her car was already gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Travis
I stepped out of my truck, unbuttoning the top button of my uniform shirt as I shut the door behind me. The windows of The Yellow Trellis Inn were open, music wafting from inside, the curtains swaying in the breeze and I smiled as I walked toward it.
Haven.
I suddenly felt a burst of energy. It’d been another long day in a very long week. But it was finally over. There’d been a multi-car pileup on the highway just outside town, and two boating accidents out on the lake. Thankfully, no one had been gravely injured, but it’d taken most of my shift before both situations were resolved. Spencer and another officer had gone out on the lake, while I’d managed the highway wreck. In other places, the chief of police might be a desk job, but in a small town like Pelion, that wasn’t the case. Frankly I was glad of it as it kept me active, and every day was just a little bit different.
I’d wanted to call Haven all day but I hadn’t had the chance. She’d been working too though so I was sure she’d been just as occupied. I’d see if she wanted to go to dinner . . . come back to the inn and engage in . . . other enjoyments. I was off all weekend. No work. Just her. Anticipation made me break out in a smile.
I whistled as I jogged up the steps, letting myself in the front door and heading for the stairs. The music I’d heard was coming from the kitchen, and I caught Betty’s laughter, followed by Burt’s, and decided that rather than interrupt them, I’d head straight upstairs.
I knocked on Haven’s room door. “Come in,” she called, and when I opened the door, she was standing in front of the mirror that hung on the wall, securing a necklace behind her neck.
I smiled. “Hey, beautiful,” I said, coming up behind her and taking the necklace from her hands. I met her eyes in the mirror after I’d hooked the clasp. “What are you getting all ready for?”
Her gaze hung on mine for a second. “I have a date with Gage, remember?”
For a moment her words didn’t make sense. I struggled to rearrange them. I took a step back and she turned slowly. “You’re still going?” I asked, incredulous.
Her gaze skittered to the side and then back. There were two high points of color on her cheekbones. “Of course,” she said, stepping around me.
What is happening?
I frowned. My nerves suddenly felt like someone had lit the ends on fire. “This isn’t because Phoebe showed up this morning, is it?”
She slid a bracelet on her arm. “Of course not.”
“Because that was just about closure. We talked. That was all.”
She smiled distractedly as she slid another bracelet up her arm. “Closure’s good.”
“Because this week . . . it’s been amazing.”
“Yes. It . . . has.”
I was confused, caught off guard, at a loss. Why was she acting like this? I turned toward where she was picking up a small purse on the bed, giving my head a slight shake. “I thought . . .”
“You thought what?” she asked, not meeting my eyes.
I watched her as she opened the purse, rifling through whatever was inside. Had someone hit me over the head with a sledgehammer? What was I missing?
She closed the purse, stood straight, and took a deep breath. She smiled but it looked forced as though she knew she was upsetting me and it made her uncomfortable.
But she was still going anyway.
I watched her, despair washing through me, an unfamiliar version of the emotion that made me want to beg.
I thought we had formed a connection. I . . . thought you wanted me.
“Didn’t we have an agreement, Travis?” she asked as if I’d voiced the thought in my head. “This shouldn’t be a surprise. You’re the one who scored me this date, remember?”