Page 15 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

I should move that money into an account for Haven. Steal from him to give to her. That way, she’ll have enough to take care of herself if she decides she doesn’t want anything to do with us once we get her out and safe.

The tight knot in my chest releases somewhat at the idea of doing something for her.

So I spend the next few minutes creating a secure bank account with a high interest rate and adjusting where Bell’s money is funneled to. I watch the amount climb slowly, then blow out a breath, my gaze snagging on the compass rose.

“Take a break, Jude,” I mutter to myself. “Get something to eat. Come back and try again.”

I push to my feet and stumble downstairs. After making the saddest sandwich in the existence of sandwiches—dry bread, cheese and meat—and inhaling it while standing over the sink, I guzzle a glass of water, hoping it will help clear some of the fog from my head.

It doesn’t. If anything, having a full stomach has made my eyes grittier, heavier. I should sleep. I’ll be better if I do, sharper. Maybe I’ll even be able to break through the new security, but I deserve to rest. Not after what I did, not until Haven is back with us.

I head back upstairs, noting for the first time that the door to Haven’s bedroom is cracked open. It’s stupid to hope that she’s in there, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from flipping as I place my hand on the door and push it the rest of the way.

Disappointment hits. Ridiculous, because I knew she wasn’t here.

Hale is stretched out on Haven’s bed, a pile of her journals stacked next to him, one open and propped on his chest.

“That’s fucked up, dude,” I say, my voice coming out scratchier than normal. I haven’t spoken much since Creed kicked us out of the hospital, since my fuck up hurt Haven so badly.

The journal drops and Hale arches a brow at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about. Just in case I clarify. “That’s a major breach of trust, Hale. Reading her private journals.”

“She left them here.”

“‘Cause she couldn’t take them with her. I don’t think it was an invitation to read them.”

He shrugs and turns his attention back to the book in front of him. “Atticus read them all already.”

“He did?” Jesus, can we actually sink further? Can they actually think this is okay? Anger stirs in my belly and I stride farther into the room. Plucking the journal from his fingers andslamming it shut. Before he has a chance to react, I’ve scooped up the stack next to him, and dumped them in the bag, still half full of all of her thoughts and feelings.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Hale growls at me, pushing into a sitting position as I heft the bag onto my shoulder.

“Keeping you from fucking up more. She didn’t give you permission to read those, Hale! Why would you think it’s a good idea? Why would you think it’s okay?”

His shoulders slump, and he runs a hand over his face. “It’s not. I know it. But I couldn’t stop myself from doing it.” He lifts devastated eyes to me. “I miss her so fucking bad. So fucking bad I just wanted to feel close to her.”

I jerk my chin at the stuffed bunny on the bed. We found it in the empty building Ren told us Haven holed up in. “Then snuggle BunBun. Don’t betray her further with this bullshit.”

He swallows thickly and to my surprise actually reaches for the bunny, dragging the raggedy stuffy to his lap, nearly engulfing it with his big hands. “You’re right.”

My chin tips up. “I know I’m right.” But then, because I’m curious and I need to know. “How was it?”

Those devastated eyes meet mine again. “Bad. So fucking bad. Near as I can tell, she started journaling as a way to cope with her mother leaving her. Not because a therapist told her to, but because she looked up ways to deal on her own.” My heart lurches in my chest imagining tiny seven-year-old Haven googling ways to handle grief. “I know,” Hale says. “Broke my fucking heart, too. And it only gets worse from there.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how it gets worse, but I’ve already fucked up so much with Haven, I don’t want to make it worse. “If she wants to tell me, she will,” I say instead.

He nods, lifting the bunny to his nose and inhaling. His eyes close as he holds his breath, keeping the small traces of our girl in his lungs for as long as he can.

Fuck, we’re broken. So fucking broken. And the only person who can fix us is trapped, locked away from us, at the mercy of a man who values her so little, he’d smother every spark of light in her, force her into a mold of his perfect daughter.

Need to get her out. Need to get her safe. Need to make everything fucking better for her.

Those thoughts pound in my head as I leave Hale in Haven’s room.

“Any luck getting into his security system?” Hale follows me down the hall, then into my bedroom, where his nose wrinkles in distaste. It’s been a while since I’ve done any kind of cleaning or tidying, and it’s not like I was good at it to begin with. But now there’s a stack of dirty plates on one corner of my desk, discarded energy drink cans, dirty clothes and towels, empty chip bags and candy wrappers.

Yeah, my room’s turned into a mess since we lost Haven, and I don’t see that changing until we have her back.

I stuff the bag of my girl’s journals into the closet and firmly close the door before plopping into the chair at my desk and motioning to the monitor. “No luck. Every time I think I find a way in, I get hit with this bullshit.”

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