Page 107 of Lucky Haven

Nobody around for miles.

Nobody to hear me scream.

Don’t think about that.

Instead, I try to remember if Cash ever came up here on one of those trips.

Does he know that I’m gone? How long will it take him to realize what a terrible mistake I’ve made?

I need to be smart here. I need Jeb to stop thinking about whatever his next step of this insane get rid of Haven plan is, and to get stuck in this stage of it, where he’s angry at me and confused by me, but talking.

I need to keep him talking, because Cash will come for me, I know he will. I just need to give him enough time.

“Tell me about her,” I say.

Jeb stops pacing. “What?”

“Kaitlyn. You clearly care about her.”

“Of course I do. I care about all of my congregation.”

He always had an overinflated sense of self. It’s not his congregation. In thirteen years, he hasn’t been promoted past youth pastor. And he never will be. “The way you cared about me?”

He glares at me. “You were a mistake.”

“But doing this…getting rid of me…is Kaitlyn worth that?”

“This isn’t about that. You’ll ruin my life, with your stupid questions, misrepresenting everything.”

I swallow carefully. “I disappointed you when I left.”

“Before that.” He sneers. “And still, I waited. Did you know that? I saw your potential, and prayed for you to return to me. And then you came back, but it was all wrong. You were different. And you threw yourself at him.”

“Kaitlyn’s emails started before that. You’re twisting what happened. I kissed Cash after I was ostracized.”

“This didn’t start with that kiss. You were a slut for him from the day you returned. Couldn’t stop staring at him.”

He’s just invented a whole fiction about me, not even based on actions, but perceived attraction.

And he’s been waiting a long time to say this. As much as I loathe him, he has a lot to say, and that’s good in a twisted way. And if he’s talking, then he can’t be figuring out what to do next in this descent into vengeful madness.

“After everything. After all the patience I—” He stops himself.

“You what?”

“I would have taken you back. Even with your reputation.”

“How did I get that reputation?”

But he’s done with the conversation. He stalks to the kitchen and yanks open a drawer.

My pulse skyrockets.

No, no, no, Cash needs more time.

Tears flood my eyes and my mouth goes dry.

I made it too real. He’s built a fantasy in his head for so long that reality is an intrusion that stresses him out. And now he’s unravelling at an alarming speed.