Page 103 of Versions Of Us

“He left me.” I scoff. “Giving you a place to stay hardly redeems him of everything else he’s done.”

She bows her head. “There’s so much you don’t know.”

More extracts of conversations with Em surface from the depths of my memory. There were the times she spoke about her father.

Our father.

Then there were the days where she barely spoke at all, and I was forced to read between the lines. The times when it was obvious that she was stuck in a violent relationship.

“You had an abusive boyfriend,” I recall. “You were waiting for someone to save you. It was Henley, wasn’t it?”

She looks up at me, her hazel eyes pooling with green. “Henley sacrificed everything to save me. I’m the reason he didn’t return to Cliff Haven all those months ago. It was all my fault.”

I draw away from her. I’m not sure I can handle another revelation right now. “What does that mean?”

“He isn’t this terrible person you make him out to be.” She sighs as she flops down onto the couch. “He’s the one who told me about you. He told me you worked at the helpline. And he’s the one who brought me to Cliff Haven. He rescued me from a really bad situation.” She pauses for a moment, then lifts her gaze to mine, her hazel irises brimming with sadness. “I owe him everything, Kristen.”

I hadn’t stopped to wonder whether there might have been a specific reason that Mackenzie had ended up in Cliff Haven. I’ve spent the past week walking on eggshells around her. Never daring to ask too many questions for fear she’d shut me down. I’d never asked her where she came from, assuming Henley had just met her somewhere along the way.

I guess I assumed a lot of things.

I still have so many questions but there’s no point in directing them at Mackenzie.

It’s time to find Henley and get the truth from him once and for all.

Mackenzie, as if reading my mind, nods toward the door. “Go. Find him.”

Chapter 41

KRISTEN

Ihurry down the street and burst through the doors of the tavern, almost knocking Dylan over as he juggles a stack of plates and a drink tray. “Whoa! Where’s the fire?” he exclaims.

“Sorry. Is Henley here?” I ask, breathless from running the last three blocks.

Dylan grunts at the mention of Henley’s name and then mutters, “He was here, but he’s taking his lunch break. He might be upstairs.”

“Thanks.” I race to the back of the bar and climb the stairs two at a time. I call for him when I reach the top but there’s no answer. He’s not here. I think of all the possible places he could be. His dad’s place, the grocery store.

The park bench by the river.

I take the stairs back down even faster than I ascended them, whirling past Dylan once again. He curses as he almost drops yet another stack of plates. I yell out an apology on my way out the door and run down the cobblestone path toward the river.

I pass friends sipping coffee and children flying kites, running as fast as my feet will carry me. When I make it to the riverbank, the park bench is vacant. He isn’t here either.

I slow down to catch my breath, walking a little further until I find myself at the entrance to the winding trail that leads to the most secluded part of the river.

I push through the undergrowth, stepping over large twigs and broken branches until I reach the clearing. Henley sits on our rock, his eyes steady on the river before him. I say his name out loud and he flinches, a reaction I’ve come to expect with this version of him.

“Thought I might find you here,” I say.

“I come here to think.” He picks up a small rock and skims it across the water’s surface. It bounces a few times before sinking to its depths.

I nod. “I know.”

“Why did you come?” he asks, his eyes still on the water ahead.

“I spoke to Mackenzie. We talked about a lot of things.”

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