Finding Haven (29 page)

“Evan. Oh my God, Evan.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and buried her head
against his chest. He heard the camera clicks before he had a chance to catch his
balance from the Emmy embrace. The scent of her familiar French perfume invaded his
nostrils.

“Emmy, what are you doing here?” He pushed her off and away. The few reporters who
were observing the exchange crowded closer. “Wait, don’t say anything. Let’s go somewhere
private.”

He put an arm around her shoulder to shuttle her inside, but she dug her designer
heels into the floorboards.

“No, Evan. I’ve been searching for you for weeks. Please don’t make me move a single
inch. I need to just look at you—make sure it’s really you.” She advanced toward him
again. “I missed you so much.”

“Evan, is it true you dumped Emmy?”

“Do you miss her?”

“Does this mean you two are back together?”

The questions came in rapid succession. Emmy spun toward the cameras, smiling sweetly.
“I’m sure you can all understand how special and precious this moment is to us. We’ll
take just a few questions, ok?”

Stepping onto that porch, he had stepped onto a landmine of red flags. Flags that
exploded with each question, with each bat of Emmy’s eyelashes. This entire reunion
was an orchestrated ambush. He slid his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor.

“I’m sorry, everyone. Emmy can take questions, but I’m not making any statements right
now.” He smiled widely. “But, I know a great little seafood restaurant y’all might
want to try—”

Before he could finish his attempt to derail the media inquiries, another reporter
ran from the employee parking lot. “She’s over here! We found the other woman!”

The photographers scurried down the stairs, and Evan froze, trying to sort through
what that even meant. Other woman? Son of a bitch. He jumped the railing and sprinted
to the parking lot.

What he saw tore his heart in two.

“Back off!” he roared as he ran into the center of the circle, pushing bodies out
of the way. He had to get there; he had to control it. Haven was hunched next to her
car, her hands over her head.

He scooped her up. She didn’t protest, or if she did, he couldn’t hear over the crowd.
His Jeep was at the edge of the lot. He placed her in the passenger seat, hopped into
the driver’s side, and sped onto the island road. If he thought he was in a fishbowl
before, he was wrong. This was a fishbowl. There was nowhere to go on the island where
they wouldn’t be found. It was too small. There weren’t enough roads or exits. There
were no gated security systems, and no rock-solid bodyguards. Dammit.

He drove a mile, trying to put some distance between them and the paparazzi nightmare
that had invaded their perfect summer dream. He clutched Haven’s hand, squeezing it
tightly into his palm, but she stared straight ahead as if he wasn’t there.

What had he done? He looked at her, terrified and pale. Right now, he just had to
protect her—do what he should have done in the first place. He reached for his phone
and scrolled until he found Travis’s number.

“Hey, man. I have an emergency.” He spoke quickly.

“Yeah, yeah. What is it? Waves?”

“Do you think you could call Ben? Meet us at his place?”

Travis paused. “Sure, but what’s going on?”

“Don’t talk to anyone. Meet me there in five minutes and come alone. Understand?”
He glanced at Haven, her blue eyes closed off from him. “This is serious.”

“Got it, man. See ya.” Travis hung up.

Evan steered straight and turned at the next road. Ben Jordan had the only house on
the island that he knew of with gates. It might be the only place where he could keep
Haven guarded against the press. They would find her, but she would be safe.

He pulled into the driveway and parked behind a large oleander bush. Until he talked
to Ben, he wouldn’t be able to close the gates. He would have to wait for Travis too.

“Haven, I’m going to fix this,” he whispered. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

She turned toward him; her hands steady in her lap. Her eyes looked at him, but the
light was gone. Like a knife twisting between his ribs, he felt the pain of what he
had done. He was the man who had put out the glow. There was nothing there but cold.

E
VERYTHING FELT
numb, like when your hand falls asleep, and it hurts when you attempt to shift it.
If she tried to move at all, her body seized with the pain of waking up, one piercing,
burning twist at a time.

“Here you go. Ben made you one of those fruity drinks you like so much.” Travis shoved
a cup into her hand. “Just drink.”

She sipped, but her eyes wouldn’t break with the ocean. There were five boats on the
horizon, zipping by on their way into the marina before the sun went down. No, there
were six.

“So, this seems like a lot to take in.” Travis sat next to her. “Who would have thought
all this time that we were hanging out with a movie star? Wild, huh?” He tipped his
drink back, and looked over his shoulder and into the massive Jordan residence.

Ben and Jay were inside talking, presumably about security measures that needed to
be taken. Her stomach twisted. He wasn’t Jay. He was Evan Carlson.

“Did he tell you anything? Did you seriously have no idea who he was?” Travis asked.
“No clue?”

She tilted her head toward him, feeling the sting of the motion.

“Ok. I’m going to guess that means no.” Travis slid his hand along her back. It was
an attempt to comfort her, but she didn’t want anyone to touch her. She shirked from
the contact.

“Please don’t, Trav.”

She kicked the cup back and let the coconut mixture slide down her throat. She didn’t
want to get lost in the bottom of a cup. She didn’t want the pina colada to be the
relief that quieted the pain. That was for people who drowned their sorrows in alcohol.
That was for people who had been dumped or were left broken-hearted. She wasn’t one
of those people. Her heart wasn’t broken. No, it just wasn’t beating.

“I know I’ve been a real dick this summer, Haven. But I am here for you. I don’t really
have any clue what’s going on, no clue, but I’m here if you need me.” He stood as
Ben and Evan walked on the deck.

Evan strolled to the chaise lounge where she was propped against a pile of tropical-colored
pillows. He had deposited her there before gathering the guys for a talk. “Travis,
man, thanks for everything.”

“No problem. I’m happy to help.” He slapped Evan on the back.

Evan crouched down, eye-level with Haven. “I have to go back into town. If I don’t
make some kind of statement, they’ll never leave.”

She refused to look at him—whoever he was.

“Ben said you can stay here as long as we need, and Travis is going to stay too while
I’m gone.” He moved to kiss her forehead, but she flinched at the gesture.

“Go.”

“I’ll be back tonight and we can talk.” His voice was soft.

Travis and Ben made a beeline for the living room.

“I don’t want to talk.”

Evan sighed. “I did this. I did all of it. I know I did.”

“Stop.”

The pain in his eyes caught her breath for a second, but she powered through, turning
her attention back to how many boats she could count on the horizon. “Go. And do
not
come back here.”

He pushed against the chair and stood next to her.

“I swear, Haven, I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

The pain turned to something more intense and more physical. She screamed at the top
of her lungs. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out of here!”

Evan turned on his heels and walked down the side steps.

Her body lunged backward into the pillows. Seven, no maybe that was the eighth boat.
She was going to have to start all over again. Damn, him.

T
HIS MIGHT
be the first time she had turned on the TV all summer. Other than a little hurricane
coverage, she didn’t have time and not a whole lot of interest. She read. She wrote
music. She loved Jay all summer. Who had time for TV?

She tapped the volume control so she could hear what was being said about him, about
her.

It was all surreal. Ever since yesterday afternoon, her life had been sucked into
a paparazzi vortex. They had dug up dirt on her she didn’t even know she had. It didn’t
help that Emmy Harper was determined to stick around and spin her story. She realized
though that Emmy might be telling the truth; Haven might actually be the other woman
in this twisted scenario. How could she tell what was right and true anymore when
the compass she had had been smashed into a million pieces?

Travis walked into the living room and slumped into the open space on the couch next
to her. He had spent the night in one of the many bedrooms.

“You don’t want to watch this trash, do you?” He tried to take the remote from her.

“Actually, I do. Did you know that I slept with a married professor?” Her eyes hardened.

“None of the things they are saying about you or J—Evan are true. The people who know
and love you know the truth. Let’s watch a movie or something.”

Haven laughed at the irony. If she had watched more movies, maybe none of this would
have happened. What dingbat doesn’t know she’s sleeping with the World’s Sexiest Bachelor?
That’s what the headline said—he was the most wanted and adored man on the planet.
She clutched the remote.

“Hey, easy tiger. Ben’s parents are pretty generous, but we don’t need to buy a new
remote.” He took it from her grasp and turned the TV off before she could get the
daily entertainment rundown.

“Trav, I want to watch it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sitting in here, beating yourself up for something that isn’t
your fault. None of us knew who he was.” He turned her to face him. “He didn’t want
us to know, Haven. Look at what happened? It’s a circus at the store, all the local
press is here, people are camped out at The Windsheer. It’s crazy. He was right. There
was no reason to subject anyone to this. I have a whole new appreciation for celebrities.”
Travis whistled.

“Did you just say he was right?” She had hit Travis once before and that was a moment
she regretted, but the urge was itching in her palm.

“I know you’re pissed. I’m not telling you it isn’t justified. But, he’s doing everything
he can to fix it.”

“How do you fix something like this, Trav? He lied. He fucking lied to me all damn
summer!” She felt her hands tremble. “Everything, the record label was him pulling
strings with friends, the book—he’s not a fucking writer! Did he just say that to
get in my pants? Is that all guys care about?” She picked up a pillow and threw it
against the sliding glass door.

“I’m glad that wasn’t something breakable.” Travis looked at the pillow and then at
Haven. “What Evan did was shitty, but he’s not a bad guy. It doesn’t take five minutes
around him to know that.” He stood. “And no, guys care about more than getting in
a girl’s pants.” He winked. “Sometimes.”

Haven grabbed the other pillow and threw it at his chest. “Not funny.”

“Oh, I’m hilarious. You’ve just forgotten.”

There was quite possibly a smile forming at the corners of her mouth, but she was
reluctant to give in to it. It felt better to let the misery and hurt consume her.
It kept the memories of Evan farther away. The memories of his mouth, the way he growled
in her ear, the way his skin felt pressed against hers, how he could calm her down
with his arms around her. No, those memories weren’t welcome here and neither was
Evan Carlson.