Travis by Mia Sheridan

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?”

I watched her, my throat tight. Yes, I’d scored her a date with Gage because she’d wanted to have a fling with him. But now . . . Did what we were doing really change nothing? “If you wanted a fling, why not just stick to the one you’re already having with me?”

She laughed shortly, but there was zero humor in the sound. “Because I have feelings for Gage,” she said. My muscles seized. It felt like a dagger was lodged in my spine. And if she was contemplating her feelings for Gage, then why did she look so miserable?

My jaw set and for a moment we simply stared at each other, her chin lifting slightly. What could I do? There was nothing I could do, not in that moment. You could beg. It might work. I gritted my teeth harder. No. “Have fun, Haven. But if you get your . . . wish . . . if Gage wants to take things in a physical direction, I won’t share you. You should know that,” I said quietly.

No, I wouldn’t beg. The only promise we had made to each other was there would be no promises. She’d made it clear we were friends. So maybe I was the one being irrational. But I wouldn’t be waiting here to extend benefits to her when she returned.

Her gaze danced away again. “Of course I know that. I’m not . . .” She fidgeted with her purse. “I’m not interested in that either.”

I waited but she said no more. Then why bother going on a date with another man? That’s what I wanted to know. She could have a night with me. She didn’t need to see Gage, did she? For what purpose? My chest ached. My entire body ached.

Choose me. Say you don’t want him at all. Physical or otherwise. Say you won’t give me up for him. I felt blindsided. I’d thought . . . What, Travis? That it’s something more than great sex? That because you want her, she automatically wants you too? Hasn’t she made it clear from the beginning that she does not? This is what you get.

God it hurt. It killed me. And I’d put myself in this position. This is exactly why you never have. It was so incredibly clear now. In the past, I’d chosen those who couldn’t hurt me. Because I hadn’t truly handed them any portion of my heart.

But now . . . now . . .

The doorbell met my ears, ringing distantly from the floor below. Her eyes met mine again, those bright spots deepening before she turned, walking stiffly out the door.

Second best. And second best didn’t even deserve a goodbye.

I let out a shuddery breath, clenching my eyes shut and letting the pain roll through me in waves.

I heard her laugh from below, and Gage’s deep voice saying something that was surely charming and complimentary.

I didn’t move a muscle, just stood there alone in her room where she’d left me, until his car doors shut outside and I heard the smooth motor of his Audi—the car that cost the entirety of two years of my salary—pulling out of the gravel driveway.

Only then could I move, propelling myself out her door, down the stairs and back to my truck where I jumped inside and peeled out of the driveway.

I turned in the opposite direction from the one they would have gone in, toward the lakeside restaurants in Calliope where he’d wine and dine her. He’d probably notice she was tense. She had been uncomfortable hurting me because she was kind.

But she’d done it anyway because she didn’t have the same feelings for me that I had for her.

Only when I’d turned down the dirt road that led to my land was I able to take a full breath. I came to a slow stop, rolling down the windows and turning off the ignition, staring unseeing at the faded red barn. It would be years before I saved up for the one thing I wanted. The only thing I had left.

I was spinning. Spiraling.

You will lose it all. Or lose it all.

Desperation spiked, a hot flood of despondency, and I leaned back on the seat, the breeze through the window ruffling my hair, but doing nothing to cool my blood.

The pile of things my mother had given me was sitting on the small space of floor behind the passenger seat and I twisted, reaching for them. Why? To torture myself further? To remind myself that I’d always been thrown away by people I cared about? By people who mattered?

The picture album was on top of the folder of documents and I rifled through that, shutting it after only a few pages. It hurt to look at my father in that moment.

I could have used you right now. I could have used you in so many moments.

But even if you had lived, you left. You chose him over me.

You fucking asshole.

Only I didn’t hate him. I wished I could. And that’s what hurt the most.

Underneath the albums was the file of original documents and I opened it, taking several minutes to read through it, furrowing my brow as I read it again, more slowly.

Holy shit. She was right.

I saw what my mother meant.

I looked up momentarily, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Tap, tap, tap. This amendment to the original contract regarding the ownership of Pelion changed everything. I leaned back, considering. A legal challenge would almost definitely work with the right lawyers involved.

At the very least, Archer and I would split the town. I considered the documents again. I’d regain the social status among the Pelion and Calliope elite I’d once enjoyed. I’d have the money to build the house I wanted on this land in front of me. The land that had once been my father’s but now was mine. Only mine.

I’d meant it when I’d told my mother that Archer did a great job running the town, and that the citizens of Pelion thrived under his leadership. But Archer could still keep doing what he did. He didn’t have to split the ownership of the town. But I could gently demand that he buy me out.

Why should he have everything when Connor Hale had been my father too? Even if he didn’t want to be.

We didn’t have to get lawyers involved.

It didn’t need to get messy.

My pulse slowed and I felt more in control. Tap, tap, tap. Relief descended.

Why not? Even if there was a small possibility of Haven staying, she had walked away from me tonight, showing me that I meant little to her. I had simply been her friend with benefits . . . temporarily . . . something I had done to others many times if I was honest. All over Pelion, women would be—justifiably—laughing their asses off if they knew the pain I was in. Despite what Burt said, Haven would not be the one to fill or complete me. The hope of that potential future had died. If I was going to lose it all—again—this time, why not grab what I could before all of it was gone?