Travis

I closed the door softly behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I collected myself. Outside, I heard Gage descend the steps and get into his car, the motor purring as he started it up and drove away, the soft crunch of gravel growing more and more faint until it faded completely.

A bird called out. There was a distant splash. And somewhere overhead, a pipe clanked in the wall. I’d already begun to learn the noises of this house. They’d somehow branded themselves on my heart and I was going to have to work to forget them, not to feel an internal piercing whenever I heard a floorboard squeak in some particular way that reminded me of the planks in the hall outside my bedroom door, or the way his footsteps sounded on the porch right before he opened the front door.

Right before he arrived home.

Oh, I’d made a mistake. I’d gotten attached, and now I would suffer for it.

But I hoped . . . God, I prayed there was still time to save myself the worst of what it might have been.

The date with Gage had helped. At first, I’d worried it wouldn’t, but it had. Gage’s smile had been beautiful. His car was beautiful. The restaurant he’d taken me to was beautiful, the food incredible, the twinkle lights strewn along the railing overlooking the lake romantic. Of course, Gage himself was kind. Sensitive. He’d seemed to know I was troubled and, while he hadn’t brought it up outright and made me feel uncomfortable, he’d done his best to make me laugh. And succeeded.

He really was perfect.

“You’re home early.”

I gasped, jumping, and bringing my hand to my chest as Travis exited the sitting room, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “God, you scared me.”

“Fun date?”

I swallowed, standing straight. “Yes. It was . . . perfect.”

“Naturally. Gage is perfect.”

I nodded. “He is. He’s perfect.” I suddenly felt breathless, shaky. Awful.

Travis raised one dark eyebrow, his expression carefully blank. He was gorgeous. And those eyes. Those damned eyes. How was I ever going to forget them? I looked away. “I’m leaving in the morning,” he said.

My gaze flew to his. “Leaving?”

“My house is officially cleaned up. No reason to stay.”

My heart dipped, squeezed. That’s good. Better. Easier. He watched me as I gave a slow nod.

“I thought I’d wait up and say goodbye. I’m glad I’m leaving on a good note. It seems like our plan worked. Hallelujah.” The last word came out slightly choked and I barely resisted going to him. He sounded vulnerable, hurt, and my heart constricted so tightly I feared it might stop beating.

It’s better this way. You know it is. “Yes,” I whispered. “Hallelujah.” I managed what felt like a weak smile. “My feelings for Gage might yet be returned.”

Travis let out a long breath, stepping toward me, seeming to have made some decision. “Haven.”

My heart slammed between my ribs. “Yes?” Don’t, please don’t.

He stopped a few feet away from me. “Have you considered that you really have no feelings for Gage and that’s why he’s safe?” He stepped closer and I caught his clean, masculine scent. “Have you considered that you’re using him to keep me emotionally at arm’s length because your feelings are for me and that terrifies you because when you leave Pelion, when you leave Maine, you’ll be facing yet another loss?” He stepped even closer and I turned my head as though by looking away, I could tune out his voice and what he was saying too. “You didn’t mean to involve your heart, I know. But you did. We both did. And one of us has to be brave and say it. One of us has to be the first to lay their heart on the line,” he finished, gaze beseeching.

Oh no. No. Not that.

Promises.

Promises.

I couldn’t trust promises.

“I know something about keeping people at arm’s length, by only letting those in who pose no risk to your heart. I understand the need. I’ve done it all my life. But I’m telling you now that I don’t want to do that anymore. Give us a chance, Haven.”

“I can’t. And you don’t want me, Travis. Not really.”

He laughed shortly, his brow knitting. He looked upset and affronted. “You can’t tell me how I feel.”

I shook my head, denying his words, denying him. He might think he had feelings for me but he didn’t. It was good sex, that was all. And maybe he’d fallen victim to some of that competitiveness that he’d said would work on Gage. It would fade though. Sooner rather than later, it would fade. I’d seen Phoebe. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on. Silken smooth hair, eyes as blue as the summer sky, legs that went on forever. She was the sort of woman he’d end up with eventually. Naturally. It wasn’t only that she was beautiful, perfect in every single way. He’d been ready to marry her less than a month before. How dare he say he wanted a chance with me, when it was obvious that he’d lose interest when he came to his senses? And I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t. “You’re . . . on the rebound. You might think you have feelings for me, but you don’t. You can’t.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone,” I breathed. “Everyone says.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding me. “So I don’t get to want you—to see a future for us—because of some arbitrary rule about so-called rebound relationships being destined for failure?”

“Yes. And . . . it doesn’t matter anyway. We can’t have a relationship because I’m leaving. I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to.”

I nodded, a jerky movement. “I do. I do. It’s part of the plan.” Don’t stop. Keep moving. Outrun the hurt. Don’t tempt additional pain. Keep your distance. Keep leaving before others leave you.

I deserved that, didn’t I? After a lifetime of not being able to run? I was in control now. Me.

He let out a small rueful laugh. “Yeah. I had a plan too, Haven. Plans don’t always work out. You’re not a rebound relationship.”

“No. I’m not. Because we’re not in a relationship. We’re friends.”

I saw how that word cut him and I looked away, taking a deep breath as I gathered myself. I smiled, looking back at Travis, reaching my hand out to him, but bringing it back before it made contact. “Let’s not prolong this, Travis. I care for you. I don’t want either of us to hurt. That was never the point. We’ve had fun, right?” I gave him a smile I was sure looked as shaky as it felt. “It’s been a good time and I’ll remember you . . . fondly.”

He winced.

The backs of my eyelids burned.

You’re awful, awful, awful.

Better this way.

Better this way.

Better this way.

I could see his mind turning, considering what to say. And so before he could say something that would weaken my resolve, I turned away. “Goodbye, Travis.”

I didn’t wait for him to reply as I practically flew up the stairs to the safety of my room.