Page 9 of Vow

She wished—fuck, she wished so badly—that her parents would have told her the truth about her mother’s health when she had come to visit. Instead, they’d simply chosen to focus on the fact that Haven was there, and the time they spent together. They didn’t think to mention to her at all that her mother had just gotten news only a few days before her arrival that the cancer had come back, and it was more aggressive than ever.

They didn’t want Haven to move to Florida to help. They wanted her to keep living her life, and handling her own business. It’s your life, and your time, they kept telling her. She didn’t care about any of that. She had years yet to go; her mom might only have a few months if the chemo didn’t work.

Nothing here mattered to Haven anymore. All it took was a single man to upend her entire fucking life, and remind her that she wasn’t good enough for him to choose her … and that told her all she needed to know, frankly.

She didn’t need to be here at all.

She didn’t care if she was.

Haven walked the realtor to the front door to say goodbye. The man plucked up a toy from the floor—a doll Haven must have missed in her effort to pick up things that had fallen to the wayside while she packed. It was one of those dolls that Maria loved the most with the big heads, funny colored hair, and huge eyes.

“You have a niece, or something?” the man asked. “I didn’t think you had kids.”

“I don’t,” Haven replied, taking the doll from the man. “It was my roommate’s daughter’s toy. She left it behind.”

Like everything else in her life now, something else was gone, too.

Valeria and Maria.

Haven remembered the night she’d come home vividly, and her friend was gone. No note, no nothing. Valeria had taken only a few things, and left almost everything behind. Haven tried calling her friend’s phone, but got no response.

Valeria had said once she might go, and she wouldn’t say a thing. Haven accepted that was what happened because maybe Val felt it was time to move on, or she was scared that her past was going to catch up to her again.

Who knew?

Haven didn’t.

Nobody thought to tell her.

Nobody thought to worry about her.

This was her fucking life now.

• • •

Jackson pushed off his seat on the bar the moment Haven came into the club for the meeting. She could already see how the girls who danced and served or worked behind the bar glanced her way with a wary stare—unsure of what was happening.

That was her fault, she supposed.

Haven hadn’t really told them anything.

Maybe she hadn’t been ready to.

And then, the realtor showed up at the club a couple of hours before opening a few days earlier, took pictures of the inside and outside, and slapped the FOR SALE sign on the front. There was no hiding what was going to happen. Her employees had questions, and Haven was here to try and answer them as best she could.

Without getting too personal.

Hopefully.

Nothing was ever that simple.

“Sorry I’m late,” Haven said, walking across the floor. “Traffic was horrible.”

Jackson nodded, and took the coat and purse Haven handed over before sitting the items on the bar top. “Everybody is here, and waiting. So, no worries.”

Yeah.

No worries.