Haven Whitmore's Arc

Chapter 5 of 13

Haven walked back toward the sanctuary with the broken frame in her hands. The kennels were loud ahead — a fluffy white terrier yipping at a tennis ball, a golden retriever pawing at an old Yorkie, a small Yorkie squaring up to a crowned pug. The noise was the only thing holding her together. Then she saw him standing by the gate. Her father. Suitcase down. Eyes already knowing. "I know about the debt," he said, before she could speak. "I know they came for you. I know they named me." His voice was steady, but his hand shook on the suitcase handle. "You weren't going to tell me." Haven set the broken frame on the fence post. She had two days before another secret broke open. She could not carry this one too. "I was going to fix it first," she whispered. "That's what I do. I fix it first, then I tell." "That's not a plan, Haven. That's a habit." He stepped closer. He looked at her hands, her face, the dark under her eyes. "You're going to stop now. You're going to sit down with me, and we're going to deal with this together. I am not leaving." She opened her mouth to argue. Nothing came out. A small girl ran past with a pink bowl of bacon for the terrier, laughing. The sanctuary kept moving without her, the way it always did now. Haven's knees felt loose. She nodded once. "Okay," she said. "Okay, Dad." He carried his suitcase inside her kitchen and set it by the long table. He pulled out a chair. He pulled out another for her. Haven sat. The secret about the baby still pressed against her ribs, and Cherry was still watching from somewhere across the yard — but the debt was no longer hers alone. Her father was here. He was staying. And he already knew.