4. Wick

Haven had fallen asleep by the time we reached my apartment complex.

“God, I hate your truck,” Izzy muttered from the driver’s seat as she passed the only available parking spot directly in front of my place.

“What’re you doing?” I cried as I watched my building flash by. “There was a place right there.”

The idea of carrying Haven’s dead weight more than a block did not appeal.

But Izzy growled, “You’re crazy if you think I can actually parallel park this huge monstrosity anywhere that small. I’m going to circle the block, and then I’ll let you out by your front door before I find somewhere easier to park.”

I opened my mouth to tell her it wasn’t that hard to parallel park and even offer tips, but the glance she shot me in the rearview mirror had me shutting up.

So, I settled for sighing. “Whatever.”

Growing up with three sisters and no brothers had taught me well when to keep my mouth shut to avoid getting my eyes scratched out.

Once she’d made her way back around the block, the one open spot was gone, anyway, so Izzy double parked next to the white car that had filled it. My extended cab didn’t contain four full doors but the suicide kind that wouldn’t open in the back until someone opened the front first, so Izzy had to play chauffeur and throw open her door before letting us out.

As she released us, I clutched Haven to my chest and met my sister’s gaze. “Can you get us into the apartment too? My keys are in my front pocket.”

Izzy glanced around; traffic was light at the moment and no one was out on the sidewalks, so she nodded and fetched my key since hers was connected to the same key ring as my truck key, which was currently stuck in the running ignition.

Leaving my ride unattended, she raced around to the curb and dashed across the small front yard, then up the three steps to my miniature porch, and had my door open and held wide by the time I reached her.

“Thanks,” I said, brushing past.

Izzy barely nodded before she hurried back to my truck.

I watched her from the open apartment door until she’d safely gotten into the vehicle and put it back into drive, then I nudged the door shut with my foot and looked down at the girl in my arms.

My chest filled tight with some emotion I couldn’t name, so I shook my head, trying to move past it, and carried her to the couch, where I knelt and eased her down as gently as possible. Since she was asleep, she didn’t latch on to me again or try to keep me close. A part of me was going to miss that bit of dependency, but the rest of me was relieved she no longer needed it.

I reached out hesitantly, then slowly grasped a curl of hair that had fallen into her face to tuck it behind her ear. She didn’t stir but continued to rest peacefully. Closing my eyes, I bowed my head, glad she was done falling apart. I honestly hadn’t known what to do when she’d cried all over me. Not even having three sisters had prepared me for that. Usually, they went and cried on each other, not me, when they needed a hug.

It made me wonder if Haven Gamble had been the first person who’d ever turned to me for comfort. I kind of thought she was. I hadn’t realized holding someone through their grief did shit to you. Like it changed an integral part of your chemical makeup or something. It made me feel responsible for her now, in the most unexplainable way.

Kneeling beside her, I watched her face as she slumbered, and I realized I would probably go to the ends of the earth to keep her from falling so low again. She had trusted me to keep her safe, so a part of me now owned that duty.

“Her phone won’t stop blowing up,” Izzy blurted, startling me into popping to my feet as she crashed through the front door, talking a mile a minute before she was even fully inside. Kicking the door shut behind her, she dumped all her bags on the first open chair she came across and then dug a ringing phone from one of the pockets. “Seriously, Wick. It’s just one call, text, or social media message after another.”

“I thought you’d turned it off,” I said, scratching the back of my burning neck and hoping to conceal the fact I’d been ogling the sleeping girl on my couch.

“I did,” Izzy began, “but then I started to worry that… I don’t know. It just felt wrong to keep it off when we actually need to talk to one of her people and let them know where she is, so I turned it back on, and holy criminy. Topher and three other people tried to get a hold of her just while I was walking from your truck to the front door.”

“He must’ve called her friends, thinking she’d gone to one of them.” I released a groan, wondering how many people Nicholl had just sent into a tailspin from his fervent search. “Asshole probably started a panic among them. I bet everyone’s worried about her now.”

“Well, they should be. Just look at her.”

I did, and my heart cracked in my chest.

Shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from going to her and touching her again, I shook my head and ground my teeth, wondering how the hell all this had fallen on me. How could I help her? I was not at all the right person to help her.

“We should answer one of her friends,” Izzy spoke up, sounding logical. “One of them should be taking care of her right now. Not us.”

“Yeah, but who do we trust?” I muttered and continued to watch Haven. She was in no position to be thrust at just anyone. “If Nicholl got to them first, who knows what he told them or what they think happened? What if they call him as soon as we call them, and she ends up right back in his hands?”

Because that possibility would happen over my dead body.

When her phone started ringing again, Izzy looked down before brightening. “Oh!” she exclaimed and answered the call before I could stop her.

“Iz!” I hissed. “What the hell—?”

She lifted a hand in my direction, silently commanding me to hush. “Hello?”

Motherfucker. I was going to strangle her.

“Yes, sorry. I’m Izzy. Haven can’t come to the phone right now. She’s—what’s that? Yeah, she’s here now, but she’s—Yes, she’s okay. Physically, I mean, but she’s not really…hmm? Oh, um. No. I haven’t actually met her before. I mean, I knew who she was, of course, but I—we’re at my brother’s apartment. He—”

I ripped the phone from her hand, glaring. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Her eyes were wide but she waved her hands as if trying to soothe me. “No, shh, it’s okay. I think it’s her dad. The screen said home anyway, and—”

“So?” I exploded. “Just because we have a good relationship with our parents, doesn’t mean she does with hers. What if having them know where she is makes things worse for her?”

“I…” Izzy’s mouth stayed open a second longer before she cringed. “I didn’t think of that. Sorry. I just knew I’d want Mom or Dad at a time like this, so I assumed—”

Shaking my head, I looked down at the phone, where the caller had probably just heard everything Izzy and I had said to each other. I could definitely hear someone yelling through the receiver at us.

Great.

Nervously swiping my tongue over my bottom lip, I glanced back at the girl lying on my couch. She was still sleeping peacefully, and I’d do anything to keep it that way. No one was getting to her unless she wanted them.

Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and lifted the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Who the fuck is this?” a man growled into my ear. “And where the fuck is my daughter? If she’s not okay or you even laid a hand on her, you worthless piece of shit, I swear, I’ll—”

“She’s fine,” I said cutting him off, except, no, she wasn’t really all that fine, was she? “Um… I mean, she’s…”

Shit. What did I say to this guy?

“Don’t jerk me around, asshole. Where…is…my…daughter?”

“Look,” I said slowly, calmly. “Haven needs someone who will take care of her right now.”

“Well, that’s me,” he growled in a furious rage. “I am her father. So tell me where she is, and I will come get her.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I countered. “I was visiting my sister at her dorm this evening, and when I opened the door to leave, Haven exploded inside, frantic to escape the jackass who was chasing her. She had no idea whose room it was; she just needed a safe place to hide. And though I know my sister and I aren’t the best people for her right now—because we’re basically strangers—I am going to keep providing that safe space she needs until I’m certain someone she trusts and cares for can come claim her.”

“Were you not listening when I said I was her father? Boy, you don’t just keep a man from his only child when he knows something’s wrong. Now tell me where Haven is before I—”

“I don’t know you,” I broke in with a hard, unyielding voice. “All I know is that she is an emotional wreck right now. And she really needs someone who loves her—someone she trusts—to come take care of her.”

“She can trust me. I love that little girl more than I do my own life. I would die for her. And I certainly have no qualms about reaching through this fucking phone and strangling you to death if you don’t tell me where she is.”

“Sir, I don’t want to upset you. I really, honestly hope you are the person she would want right now. But she can’t talk to tell me that at the moment. Before she passed out, she was so distraught she stopped responding to anything my sister or I said to her. So, while she is in that condition, I’m not going to hand her over to just anyone. I don’t care how much DNA you might share with her. Dads can hurt their daughters too, and I am not letting anyone else hurt her tonight.”

“Jesus Christ,” her dad choked out. “Is she really…? She… What happened to her? Do you even know who was chasing her?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, wincing because I wasn’t all that sure I should tell him this part, even as I admitted, “It was her boyfriend.”

“Topher?” he said, his shock evident. “Are you sure?”

“That is the one thing I’m absolutely certain about. He caused this.”

“Son of a—But—” I could actually hear his surprise and confusion morph into rage. “Oh, hell no. That motherfucker called here, looking for her, acting worried and concerned and scaring the shit out of us, and he’s the one who did this? What the fuck did he do to her?”

“I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I glanced toward the girl on my couch. Her closed eyelids looked dark and bruised from the amount of crying she’d done in my arms. “But she’s not in a good place.”

“Okay, okay,” the other man rasped, his voice breaking. “Shit.” He sniffed out a sob and then added, “Here. Talk to my wife. I don’t think I can… Fuck. Not my little girl.”

A moment letter, a lisping feminine voice said, “Hello?”

“Ma’am,” I said softly, starting to feel like an asshole for causing Haven’s dad to cry.

“This is Haven’s mother,” the woman told me, pausing every few seconds to catch a breath as if she had trouble breathing too. “My name is Sarah. How…how is she?”

“She’s sleeping on my couch right now. Before that, her eyes were open and she would blink, but she was pretty much checked out from reality.”

“Does she look as if…if he struck her or hurt her in any way? Does she need a hospital?”

“No,” I said, wincing even as I said it because I wasn’t all that certain what she needed. “I mean, I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital. Earlier, when she was still talking, she said he hadn’t physically hurt her. I think all this is just emotional trauma.”

“Okay, then. At least we know what we’re dealing with. Brandt—my husband—says you won’t tell us where she is until we convince you we’re good parents.”

“I’m sorry,” I started, wincing. “I’m sure you are. I just want to be—”

“No, it’s fine. Your caution actually relieves my mind. She’ll be in good hands until we can get to her. Right?”

“Of course.” I bobbed my head emphatically.

She paused a moment before asking, “What do you need to know to be convinced we’ll take care of her?”

“Uh…” Shit, I had no idea what to ask. “I don’t know,” I confessed lamely.

I was going to ask them to name Haven’s favorite color or her first pet—shit like that—but there would be no way for me to know if whatever answer they gave was correct. And besides, would knowing any of that honestly prove they were good parents or that Haven would want them here? I wasn’t sure.

When I stalled too long, Mrs. Gamble patiently asked, “What’s your name?”

“Wick,” I answered automatically.

“Wick Webster, the safety?” She sounded surprised.

I pulled back, a little surprised myself. “Uh, yeah. I play safety in football.” How had she known that?

“You’re on the team with Topher,” she went on. “Brandt watches your games.”

Okay, that made sense. Then I cringed, realizing I’d just linked myself to the guy who had hurt her daughter. Lovely. Now they were never going to trust that I was taking care of her.

“Brandt mentioned your name to Topher once, about how good of a season you were having this year.”

“Oh,” I said, my voice growing smaller. Because, oh shit. “I bet that went over well.”

My sarcasm made Haven’s mom chuckle. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Topher had a lot to say about you.”

Double shit. They were probably freaking the fuck out, thinking I was the devil incarnate, all because of Topher fucking Nicholl. There was no way he’d ever said anything good about me.

“I’m sure,” I hedged uneasily and glanced toward Izzy, who was watching me with a squint as if trying to overhear what was being said on the other end of the line. Turning away from her, I added, “Topher and I don’t exactly get along.”

“Oh…we could tell.”

I winced. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I’m as bad as I’m sure he made me sound.”

“I certainly hope not,” she replied, “since you have our daughter.”

Triple shit. “You can come get her,” I blurted, inwardly cursing myself even as I gave in because I didn’t want this to be the wrong move. I wanted what was best for Haven; I just wished I knew what that was. Before I could think up a better plan, I rattled off my address, because honestly, her mom scared the shit out of me. Her kind, steady, blunt honesty was unnerving as fuck.

“Thank you, Wick,” Mrs. Gamble told me graciously. “We’ll be there within the hour.”

And then she hung up.

Closing my eyes, I sent up a prayer, hoping I hadn’t messed up royally.