“You have the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen,” Alexa said. Dare couldn’t disagree. Which was why the compliment dropped a rock of guilt and regret into his gut. Since he was going to tell her she had to change it and all . . .
Haven’s cheeks flushed pink on another smile. “Thank you,” she said, and then she looked up at Dare. “Any chance you have something like butterfly stitches around here?”
“Yeah,” Maverick said, already moving toward the medicine cabinet. How had Haven become so competent at providing first aid? And why did it always seem like those who had lost the most or had the least were always among the most generous, the most giving, the first to put themselves out for others?
Haven’s default in this situation had clearly been to do what needed to be done, and that resonated so fundamentally with Dare that it had his chest feeling tight with need, with want, with appreciation. For her.
“Here you go,” Maverick said, eyeballing Haven’s every move where Alexa was concerned.
Nodding, Haven accepted the little packages into her hands and set about applying a few of the adhesive strips to Alexa’s cheek and eyebrow. “Okay,” Haven said. “I think that’s as much as I can do. You should probably go to the ER to get—”
“No doctors,” Alexa said on a rushed exhale, her eyes going wide with what looked like fear.
What the hell had happened to her?
Haven gave her hand a squeeze, and then passed her the bag of peas. “No doctors, then,” Haven said. “Don’t worry. Okay?”
Alexa nodded and shivered as she gingerly pressed the cold package to her face.
Finally, there was nothing to do but to ask again. “Why don’t you tell us what happened, Alexa?” Dare asked. “We want to help however we can.”
Maverick glanced at him, a look of appreciation clear on his face.
Alexa’s gaze darted between the three of them, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head. Earlier she’d said she shouldn’t have come, so clearly she was second-guessing herself or talking herself out of thinking the situation was as serious as it was. They saw that so often—how women in abusive relationships internalized the criticism and twisted worldviews of their abusers, how they explained away abuse or blamed themselves. Dare really hoped that wasn’t what was happening here, because that would mean Alexa was in trouble. And that realization would torment the fuck out of Maverick, especially if she wouldn’t let him help.
Pulling a chair in front of her, Maverick took a seat and grasped her hand. “Al, talk to me.”
The look they exchanged suddenly felt loaded, intimate, and Dare wasn’t the only one who thought so, judging by the way Haven shifted her feet and ducked her chin.
“Hey Haven,” he said in a quiet voice. “Why don’t we give them a minute?”
A quick nod, and then Haven was following him toward the doorway to the mess hall. “I’m not going far if you need me,” she said, looking between Alexa and Maverick. They both nodded.
“Thanks, Haven,” Alexa said.
Dare hadn’t suggested they leave to get Haven alone, but the minute they stepped into the mess hall—and in front of the observing eyes of his brothers and grandfather—he wanted her all to himself. More than that, he needed to let her know what they’d discussed in Church, before she heard it from somebody else.
“What’s the deal?” Jagger asked, jutting his chin toward the kitchen. Maverick’s unreturned interest in Alexa wasn’t exactly a secret around the club.
“Don’t know all the details yet,” Dare said, clasping his brother on the shoulder. “But see that nobody bothers them in there, will ya?” Phoenix and Jagger nodded. “I’ll be in my office.” He turned to Haven. “Come with me.”
“Okay,” she said in a quiet voice.
A rock parked itself in Dare’s gut as he led the way to the back of the clubhouse. He wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, not one damn bit. But it wouldn’t be fair to her to put it off, either.
Rock, meeting fucking hard place. For both of them.
He pushed into his office and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Close the door and have a seat, Haven. We need to talk.”
CHAPTER 14
Haven closed the door and leaned back against it, too keyed up to sit, too anxious to be still. Between the adrenaline coursing through her while helping Alexa and the dread weighing her down from knowing the Ravens had essentially been discussing her fate, Haven felt a little like she might come out of her skin.
Arms folded over her chest, she stared at Dare, her gaze running over the hard angles of his face, the way his club cut emphasized the breadth and bulk of his shoulders, how the old denim of his jeans hugged his thighs.
“Haven,” he said.
Her gaze cut to his. And, oh, man, she was so busted, wasn’t she?