Reviving Haven

by CORY CYR

  “I know you do. I’m just glad you finally admitted it. I want so badly for you to be happy.”

  “What about you, Weeze. What about your happiness?” I ask.

  “Oh, sweetie, I am happy. You know me. I’ve never felt that I had to have a permanent man to make me happy. I’m fine just fucking around. If saying that makes me sound unrefined, then I’m okay with that. But you, Haven, you need this. I’ve watched you flourish and fall in love with someone who loves you back. Even when Latch acts all ‘paranormal activity,’ I have no doubt that he cares for you. And I want that for you. Now let’s go find our men,” Weezie says with a deep laugh. “I have come to conquer.” She’s still laughing as she unlocks the bathroom door.

  “Oh really,” I reply chuckling, reaching up to my throat to touch the choker.

  A reminder of Latch’s love—as precious as the jewels around my neck.

  “Keenan is mine—well, at least for tonight.”

  She flashes me a grin with both brows arched. I know that look. Poor Keenan, I almost feel sorry for him. Because when Weezie wants something, there is no stopping her.

  God bless that girl.

  Chapter Thirty

  We walk out to the grand ballroom and see that it’s crowded to capacity. There are so many people that we can hardly make our way through. There has to be at least three hundred guests in this one room. Another few hundred are milling about in the courtyard. Everywhere, people are having a good time. The gala is definitely a hit. Weezie and I snag two glasses of champagne as one of the servers goes by. In this mass of people, finding Latch and Keenan appears difficult at best. We both gaze back and forth across the ballroom, trying to locate them.

  Eventually, we try to make our way toward the courtyard, hopefully to find the men mingling among the guests. My eyes lock on one person and I experience that mad rush of tunnel vision that completely tilts my axis. My throat begins to close, making it hard to breathe as I feel the color drain from my face. I feel faint. My champagne flute crashes to the floor, and the sound makes people stop and stare. My eyes grow wide with shock and recognition. Weezie looks at me, and then her eyes drift towards the person who has rooted me to the spot.

  She blinks twice. I see her fists ball at her sides as her face grows tight with rage.

  “What the fuck?” she says loudly, slamming her glass down on a passing server’s tray.

  Jared. Here. Standing across the room, eyes blazing at me, his still handsome face contorting with that arrogant air of superiority.

  Weezie starts to move in his direction. My arm reaches out to grab her elbow, pulling her back.

  “No, don’t,” I whisper.

  My body feels as tight as a bow, fraught with tension. Why is he here? In my head, I’m coming up with a hundred different reasons why, of all places, Jared would show up here.

  “Do you honestly think I’m going to stand here without saying anything to that prick? I think you know me better than that. That. Is. Never. Going. To. Happen.” Weezie punctuates each word with her fury.

  A waiter appears and begins to sweep up the broken glass and, as another waiter passes by, I grab two more flutes of champagne. I gulp the first one down. Then I daintily start sipping on the other one. I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to stifle a burp.

  Oops. Quelling my panic with champagne seems like a good idea at the time.

  “Very nice,” Weezie grins. “Now back to business. Just let me go over there. I swear I won’t make a scene . . . much.” I can tell she is itching for payback.

  Weezie’s face is red and her cheeks are puffed out. I feel nauseous and panic grips my body in a merciless, emotional vice. My hands tremble so violently that I can barely hold the glass.

  “You won’t have to go over there. He’s coming over here,” I say tremulously.

  I take a large sip of my champagne. I watch as Jared crosses the room towards us, a smile on his face. Weezie’s expression is homicidal, her demeanor icy. I focus anywhere but in his direction. Maybe ignoring him will make him stop in his tracks. Alas, luck truly eludes me tonight as he casually taps me on my shoulder.

  “Haven, I can’t believe it’s you. You look utterly amazing,” Jared comments as he scans his eyes up and down my dress, settling on my breasts.

  “It is astonishing what being with the right man will do for you,” Weezie barks.

  I just stand there like a mannequin, speechless, trying to silence memories of my past bombarding my brain while standing here next to Jared. Just seeing him brings forth flashbacks of events that I have tried so hard to bury.

  “So, Weezie, how’s tricks? And I truly mean tricks, or have you given up your life of sluttery and decided to finally come out of the closet and admit you’re a dyke?” Jared shoots back as he gives her a dirty look.

  “Fuck off, freak. How the hell did you get invited to this soiree anyway? Did your newest whore escort you?” She grins hatefully and bares her teeth.

  Jared rolls his eyes and moves closer to me. His proximity makes me apprehensive.

  “Actually, I was invited by the hostess,” Jared announces cockily while straightening his bow tie.

  Weezie looks at me. Latch’s mother had brought Jared here. She did this to get at me. She has no idea what will happen if Latch finds out. My heart is pounding out of my chest—not because of Jared, but because of Latch. With the mood that he’s in, and all I’ve said about Jared, this situation can only end up in disaster.

  “You do look stunning, Haven. I guess dating a boy is more your forte. Regardless, it has done you wonders.” He runs his finger up my bare arm, his eyes stopping on the diamond collar.

  “I suppose the fact that he’s filthy rich doesn’t hurt either. Although, I imagine he must be fucking you in both holes to have gifted you with such an expensive trinket.” His tone escalates from casual to vulgar, and the danger behind it is radiating off him in waves.

  I flinch and Weezie actually cringes. Jared moves close to my face. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with perspiration and overpowering cologne.

  “I bet he’s taught you quite a bit. I’m even willing to wager that to get a necklace like that one, you must have to suck his cock,” he whispers as his fingers linger on my exquisite choker.

  I close my eyes, desperately trying to will him to move away from me. I want right now to not be happening. I don’t want to remember that part of my life. Just having Jared near me makes my skin crawl, filling me with such anxiety that I almost feel like I will lose total control and completely dissolve into a panic attack. Why did Latch’s mother do this? I hear voices yelling and screaming. I hear Latch and Keenan. People shout as I feel someone grab me around the waist and pull me to one side. I hear the sounds of glass breaking and metal clanging as they hit the floor, echoing throughout the room. The next thing I feel is something warm and wet splash onto my face. I am dazed as I force my eyes to open. I have to adjust my vision as I look around me.

  Jared is lying on the floor, his face covered in blood. I am uneasy as I touch my hand to my face, feeling wetness that turns out to be blood. I cry out and look down, seeing blood all over my chest and seeping into my dress. People are trying to help Jared off the floor while others are yelling in another direction. The band has stopped and commotion is all around. I look over and see Keenan holding Latch around the waist. Latch’s face is distorted with a murderous rage.

  I can see the muscles in his jaw ticking as he yells, “Motherfucker, I will kill you!” He struggles to escape from Keenan’s lock on him, but Keenan holds on for dear life and Latch roars thunderously. “If you ever touch her again, YOU’RE A DEAD MAN! I know all the fucked up shit you did to her.” In his violent tirade, Latch’s face is now a dark purple, and the veins in his neck are bulging dangerously.

  Jared is now standing up and waiters have brought him towels to staunch the bleeding. Latch has, without a doubt, broken Jared’s nose, as well as split open his lip and gashed the side of one eye. Latch
’s tuxedo shirt is torn and covered with blood splatter, but I don’t see any other visible marks on him.

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Haven and I were together for years. When we parted, it was amenable,” Jared grouses as he continues to wipe blood off his face.

  Amenable? That lying, cheating bastard—he left me for a young girl. This entire evening is unbelievable. I really need to leave before I make him bleed more.

  “Bullshit! You put a fucking gun in her mouth. Go near her again and I’ll fuck you up!” Latch is yelling, outraged.

  Wait a minute . . . how could he possibly know that? I never told anyone about Jared and the gun. I was too humiliated.

  But Latch knows.

  This is all wrong. Tonight is all wrong. There’s no way Latch could know about this. Now he’s told everyone, including Weezie.

  Oh my God. My journal. I’ve been looking for it for over two weeks now. I thought I misplaced it. Latch must have taken it . . . it’s the only way he could have known about the gun. He has read my deepest, most private thoughts. He knows everything.

  I feel sick, but when the bile starts to rise into my throat, I force it back down. Latch has destroyed us. We are nothing. I feel too many emotions right now, but anger and outrage top the list. I am seething.

  I glare at Jared. He has cleaned himself up and is struggling to regain his composure.

  “You’ll be hearing from my lawyers, McKay!” Jared shouts at Latch.

  Latch’s eyes burn with the very fires of hell. “Bring it on, you sadistic cocksucker!” Latch yells back.

  Keenan is still restraining him securely, and I marvel at the strength in this man as he reins in his best friend—who has become fury incarnate. I can see Keenan talking to Latch, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Whatever it is, Keenan breaks through to him, and his words cause Latch’s face to go slack and his body to give up.

  “Your boyfriend is crazy,” Jared says, tucking his shirt into his pants.

  “You have no fucking idea.” It just slips out of my mouth, but the words taste wonderful rolling off my tongue.

  Jared turns, looking at me with distaste. “I guess he taught you to swear too,” he says with a sneer, wiping the remaining blood from his mouth on the towel.

  A burst of self-assurance fills my body and I no longer view Jared as my superior. Of course, he had just been beat down by Latch.

  “That would be correct, Jared. He also has taught me many other things, including, but not limited to, the art of fellatio.” Jared’s eyes open wide in surprise as I continue, “I even swallow now.” I smile innocently.

  I feel so empowered by the look on Jared’s face when the words “fucking” and “fellatio” left my lips.

  Weezie looks at me with pride. Then she moves over by Keenan and they eventually make their way outside, leaving Latch behind. I think they both know there is a storm coming. I’m so angry at Latch. I feel so betrayed. I’m not sure he realizes that he has almost certainly ruined any chances we have for a relationship.

  He has broken my trust.

  “Baby, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Latch asks as he embraces me.

  His fists are torn, bruised and bloody. A strangled sob leaves my throat before I can silence it. Latch releases me from his arms, looking baffled. I forcefully push him away.

  “Oh, Latch.” I look at him, my eyes reflecting disappointment.

  “What is it? Baby, tell me.” His brow is furrowed and his voice sounds concerned, but he is clueless.

  He reaches for me again, trying to wrap his arms around me. I spin around and face him.

  “Latch, you stole my journal.” My voice cracks with anger. I stand scowling, my arms crossed.

  “I . . . didn’t . . . well . . .” He stumbles on his words, and I can tell by his expression that it’s all true—he did take it.

  “Just stop, Latch,” I say, waving my hand. “You say you love me, and then you do this. You want me to love you? I can’t even trust you. I’m done. We’re done—for good.” My eyes flood in the storm of tears as my heart breaks for what now is lost. Latch is dumbstruck by my declaration, and I need to run. Far away.

  I stumble towards the courtyard, wiping the tears off my cheeks and trying to erect my weakened shields around my heart. I’m determined to find Weezie and Keenan so I can leave. Tonight has been a disaster. Latch and I are a volatile combination. Today, my past and present have collided, and it has gotten ugly. No matter how much I love Latch, it would never be enough. The man has darker demons than I do, and he chooses to drown them in liquor and drugs.

  I stop. I know I shouldn’t, but I need answers if I am going to find even a shred of closure for this debacle of a relationship. I turn back towards Latch and walk the few steps to look him in the eye. “Just tell me why? Why would you take something of mine that’s so personal? Help me understand, please,” I plead with him. I try to keep my voice soft, not wanting to attract more attention to us than we already have. I can still hear people whispering while watching us.

  “You kept too much from me, Haven,” he slurs. Clearly, he is drunk. “You wouldn’t tell me shit. I had to know what he did to you.” His eyes bore into mine with searing accusation. “I had to know what you let him do,” he spits out.

  I cover my mouth with my hand to bite back the sob in my throat. My brain is not able to process what this man has just said to me . . . this man who claims to love me. Latch’s face grows dark and disconcerting. I stand toe to toe with him. I have to stretch to reach his chin. He tilts his head down to look at me, and his eyes shoot daggers.

  “You’re an asshole. You think I let Jared do all that shit to me? Really, I allowed it?” I shake uncontrollably. “He robbed me of everything—my will, my self-esteem, my self-worth, my dignity . . . He took it all. Excuse me for not wanting to share with the entire fucking world that I’m a poor excuse for a woman.” I bellow, wiping away my angry tears.

  I pick up my dress and run down the stairs of the courtyard, just wanting to get away from Latch. I can hear him calling my name behind me. He follows me out to the courtyard.

  His voice is filled with panic and remorse. “Please don’t cry, baby. Please.” He touches my wrist.

  “You lied to me, Latch. You said you never wanted to make me cry. News flash—that’s all you make me do.” I sit down on one of the chairs, exhausted from the entire ordeal. “I want to go home. Can you call Marlon?” I ask, not even looking at him.

  “Don’t leave me, leannán.” Latch grabs my hand, pressing it to his lips. I quickly snatch it back, not wanting to encourage anything.

  “We’re done. I don’t want you anymore!” I scream at him. “Latch, you’re drunk and I’m pretty sure you’re high too.”

  He studies me for a few seconds, and then turns away. When he looks back, his eyes are dark and his mouth twists into a tight smirk.

  “Is that a problem?” he asks impassively.

  I look at him with disbelief. “Should I even dignify that with a response? Why are you doing this to yourself? You have everything. I don’t get it. Help me understand, please. I’m afraid for you.” My voice fills with anguish at the shadow of the man I thought I knew.

  “I doubt you give a shit, Haven,” he responds icily. “You said we’re done and you don’t want me, so be it. I’m tired of investing in this relationship without any kind of love in return.”

  His voice comes across as callous and cruel, definitely traits he inherited from his mother. I stand up to walk away. If I can’t find Keenan or Weezie, I’ll just call a cab. I need to get out of here. Latch suddenly puts his hands around my waist and pulls me into him. He tries to kiss me, and I almost get lightheaded from the alcohol vapors emanating from him.

  “Latch, let me go,” I demand, struggling to get out of his grasp.

  I turn my head from side to side to prevent him from kissing me. Kissing him would be a mistake, one that would ultimately make me forgive him. Not loving him will ne
ver be possible, so putting distance between us would have to suffice.

  “Remember what I told you in the library, leannán? You may have chosen to forget, but I haven’t. Just think of it as a farewell fuck.”

  He tightens his grasp on me and I feel cornered. This isn’t the man who loves me—this person is chilling and threatening. This isn’t Latch. This is the liquor and drugs.

  “Latch, just listen to me, please. Stop this right now. I’ll go home and we can talk tomorrow, I promise.” I beg him, trying to squeeze myself out of his hold.

  Latch’s grip is firm and strong; there’s no way I can break free. I look around. People are dancing and drinking, ignorant of my obvious distress. Part of me wants to cry out and bring attention to us, but I am afraid—not so much for myself, but for Latch’s sake. I really have to believe that he won’t hurt me.

  “Let’s go talk now. I’m not waiting for tomorrow,” he speaks softly.

  He holds me firmly as he guides us over to a narrow path.

  “Latch, please,” my voice quivers with dread.

  We move along the path until we come to a fountain. It’s made of dark gray marble and has three large tiers. Carved angels embellish the top and sides, and water proudly streams from the top. I can see coins through the shallow water at the bottom. The fragrance of flowers encompasses me. This is a place of tranquility. At least, it should be.

  Latch loosens his hold on me, but it’s not enough for me to get free.

  “People toss money in there and make wishes.” He speaks as though it’s an afterthought.

  “It’s very beautiful and serene here,” I say, attempting to make normal conversation.

  “You know what I’m wishing for?” he whispers, licking along my neck with his tongue. My body stiffens at the sensual touch.

  I tilt my head towards his as he bends toward me. I press my lips to his, slipping my tongue between his teeth. I hear an approving growl come from his throat. I’m quivering in his arms, but it’s not from desire—it’s from fear.