Page 40 of His Wild Storm
“Storms can destroy,” she points out, her voice gentle as if she expects this to be some revelation. It’s not.
“Sometimes,” I acquiesce, “but not always. Sometimes a storm is just dark clouds and rain. Sometimes it’s more severe. Either way, we’ll deal with what comes our way.”
She makes a humming sound but when I look at her out of the corner of my eye, there’s a small smile playing on her lips, one she can’t hide. While she might not say it, she likes the nickname I have for her.
My storm.
Totally unexpected.
It could be devastating.
It could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I’m more than willing to find out.
When it doesn’t take long for us to pull into the driveway of my home, Haven looks surprised and a little startled. I chuckle and cover my mouth to stop her from seeing the wide grin on my face. She’s so damn cute, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t be amused if I were to tell her as much.
“I don’t live very far from Safe Home,” I admit and rub the back of my neck. “Until I started doing the art class, I had no idea it was even in the neighborhood next to mine, which is the point, for sure.”
“I bet it’s made being over for class so early a little easier.”
“No matter what time I needed to be there, I committed to teaching the class because it’s important. Art is so important,” my voice drops lower, “and it can save someone’s life. Being able to help the kids hone their skills and have it not be about art therapy or sharing their feelings, just the love of art, is powerful.”
“I know how much art has helped Wilde,” Haven admits softly. “Even before we left, he would disappear into his art. I think it gave him solace when so much felt out of control.”
I nod in understanding and take a chance by reaching over and giving her knee a squeeze. Not wanting to push her too far, too fast, I nod toward my house and ask, “Are you ready to head in?”
After twisting her fingers together in her lap, she gives a hesitant nod. I could ask if she’s sure, but I don’t want to give her the chance to change her mind. I also want her to know that I trust her to know her own mind.
“Great,” my voice is far too upbeat, but it is what it is and I’m out of the car before she can say anything.
I help her out of my truck and then up the few stairs of the porch, not a word spoken between us. She’s nervous and her steps are wooden. But I just need a chance to show her she has nothing to fear. We just need a little time.
While Haven is nervous, my hands are steady as I unlock the door and swing it open for her. She’ll always walk into the room ahead of me, unless there’s potential danger. I made sure to leave the lights on in the house, wanting it to be welcoming for her.
Her eyes widen when she steps inside and her head swings one direction and then the other to take everything in. “This is your house?” Her innocent question is tinged with disbelief I completely understand.
“It is.” I pause for a moment while gently ushering her a little deeper inside. “It was not this put together when I found it,” I admit and she looks at me, curiosity shining in her blue depths. “It was mostly a solid foundation and beat up walls of lathe and plaster needing to be replaced.”
“Wow,” she breathes out and looks around again, this time with a deeper appreciation written all over her face. “Did you do the work yourself?”
I chuckle and nod. “I don’t do well if my hands are idle for too long. When I started looking for a house, I was already well established at Vibrant Ink, and I needed a project.”
Her back straightens in a way I don’t like at all. The wariness in her eyes when she looks at me is more than her not being sure about getting involved with a man. This is about me, and my gut clenches because of it.
“Is that what I am to you, a project?” Her eyes widen as the words spill from her lips, as if she didn’t mean to really ask the question.
“No,” I bark and she jumps slightly. I hate that I’ve startled her, but she needs to know how serious I am. “You are not just some project, Haven.” When I step closer to her, she doesn’t move away from me, and I’m damn glad she doesn’t. “You are everything,” I assure her and take her hand in mine. “I’m trying so hard not to move too fast for you because I know someone treated you horribly and broke your trust. I’m trying to take this at your pace, but I have no doubt you and Wilde came into my life for a reason.”
She whispers, “What reason?”
“To be mine. My family. My future. My everything.”
The words float between us like bubbles. Little pockets of hope where rainbows shimmer as the light refracts through the surface. Neither one of us wants to pop them.
“That’s,” Haven pauses and swallows hard, “a lot.”
I can’t help but smile at her. “I know and there’s no rush, but I’m not going to start lying or telling you half-truths now. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.”
