Chapter 6: Miss Emily

Michael's POV

I had plans to return before Jane woke, but here I was on Havana's bed running my fingers through her hair as she slept. I gently brushed the bruise across her cheek. She refused to tell me what happened to her. She just cried in my arms until the tears slowed and her eyes closed from the heaviness.

I felt the phone vibrating in my pocket, but I didn't dare move. I know I needed to leave, but I told her before that I wouldn’t. I promised her I would never leave, and it seemed as though now she needed me more than ever.

With the feel of the vibration, Havana rolled off me, tucking her knees tightly into her chest. I slid off the bed and answered the phone without viewing the caller. "Hello," I answered sternly.

I was hoping that back home there was no immediate danger. This was the first time that I stayed out and did something that I wanted to do. "Where are you? What's this I hear about you leaving Jane last night? You can't just leave your wife alone. This is so irresponsible of you. What do you have to say for yourself?" My father's annoying voice sounded on the other end. I look over my shoulder at Havana, so peaceful.

"I had things to do today. I took an early start, my apologies for not saying anything," I simply say.

The low groan penetrated my eardrums. It was sexy and enticing. I turn around fully. Havana sat up in the bed, her blonde hair wild around her shoulders and cascading down her baby blue tank. The air in the room seemed thinner -- suffocating.

"Let me call you back." I hang up without waiting for his reply. Truth be told I didn't care what he had to say. My mind only revolved around Havana and how desirable she looked sitting in her pajamas.

"Did I get you into some kind of trouble?" she asks. Her voice was harsh from the crying, but still contained a sweetness about it.

“No, not at all. They were just checking in. I don't normally stay out all night," I explain.

She nods and stands from the bed to go into the bathroom. Was she feeling awkward about last night? Had I said something wrong? The bathroom door shut softly, and the sound of water came from the other side.

I stood awkwardly inspecting the room in fresh light compared to last night’s gloominess. The room was powder pink, the walls covered with various bands and pictures, some with Havana and some without. Had she taken these herself? The click of the bathroom door signaled that it was now open. Havana's soft footsteps enter the room but stop at the doorway.

"Sorry I just got up with no explanation. My roommate always reminds me that morning breath can scare anyone away." She laughs.

"It's okay. Did you take these pictures yourself?" The curiosity got the best of me. As much as I didn't want her to think or know that I was studying her room, I had to know more. She moves from the doorway and goes to her bed. She sits down, placing her feet underneath her.

"Growing up I wanted to be a photographer, but that doesn't always pay the bills. I still take pictures, but not as much as I did," she explains. Touching the pictures on the wall I hung onto every word that she had said. I was like a sponge absorbing all that she had to offer and more.

"They're beautiful, much like their photographer." She blushes, her cheeks turning bright red. Covering her cheeks with her hands, she hides under her covers.

"Michael, stop it," she says with her face buried in her blankets.

She was shy with me. Completely vulnerable in my presence. I sit on the bed, removing the covers from her face. My thumb ran across several of her bruises while the rest of my fingers held her face to look at me.

She clears her throat and moves from my embrace. "You should be getting home. I'm sure your fiancée is worried sick. If I were her, I wouldn't be too thrilled about you being alone in another woman's bedroom."

She was right. Not about Jane being worried, but about her not being thrilled of me in another woman's bedroom. What made matters worse was that Havana wasn't just any woman, she was the perfect woman.

"Are you going to tell me who did that to you at least?" I ask changing the subject. We both knew that I was free to leave. Havana needed a shoulder last night and now last night was over. Knowing that I could leave meant nothing when everything else was telling me to stay.

"It won't make a difference. Whether you know or not what's done has already been done," she replies. Her eyes failed to meet my own. She didn't believe her own words, and it saddened me that I had heard them before.

"I'll let this go if you come with me someplace." It wasn't the best bargain, but for her, it would be the most relieving thing, hopefully. She looked at me bewildered. I'm sure her mind was caught between cautious and curious.

"Go where?" she asks. Though we had formed a good friendship within the few days that we had known each other, we were still strangers. It made sense for her to be skeptical, but I wanted her to trust me as I had trusted her.

"Someplace special, I promise." I hold my hand out to help her off the bed. The hesitation was high on her face, but the little gleam in her crystal blue eyes let me know that she trusted me.

"Let me get dressed first." Her hand taking mine. The fit was perfect as if our hands had been crafted by God for one another. She pushed me out of the room and shut the door. Moments later the door reopened, and Havana stood before me. Her pajamas were replaced by a black oversized graphic shirt and a pair of spandex black shorts barely visible under the shirt. Her hair was once again tied high into a ponytail, the loose strands curled around the frame of her face.

"Ready?" I muster the courage to ask. She nods eagerly following me down the hall. "Do you mind if we take your car?" I wasn't opposed to running, but it was broad daylight and the others seeing Havana riding with me could cause her life to complicate.

"Sure thing." She grabs a set of keys hanging by the front door. "How did you get here if you didn't drive?" She asked handing me the car keys as she opened the front door.

"I ran." It was obvious that the statement seemed so surreal to her, but the idea of driving was foreign to my kind.

She stopped walking in front of a white Toyota. It was a car much larger than what she needed. Havana stood no higher than five feet and yet she drove an SUV suitable for a family.

"You're judging, I can see it in your eyes."

She was only half right. I was only questioning why such a tiny woman needed such a vast car. I unlock the door and we both enter. I start the engine and look at her; the sun was praising her beauty. It was as if the two were designed to complement one another. Even with her cuts, she remained the most beautiful.

"Just to be clear, I wasn't judging. I'm just curious as to why you need an SUV.” From my standpoint, it was a logical question.

The drive from Havana's apartment was fairly short. The two of us found comfort in the silence as Havana admired the world while ironically, I admired her.

"Where are we?" She asks.

It was a fair question, but the truth would reveal itself soon enough. Stepping out of the car, I admired the garden that enveloped the front yard of the home. The front door swings open, and a woman with similar characteristics as I ran out.

"Michael!" The woman exclaimed, but like Havana, she wasn't just any mere woman. The woman before us was Emily Michaels, my mother.

"Hey, mom." I hug her tightly before releasing her and turning to Havana. "I have someone I want you to meet. This is Havana," I introduce.

Havana quickly tried to hide her marks, but here she was safe. My mother would understand what Havana was feeling far more than anyone. After all, she went through the same with my father.

"It's alright, dear. Let's go inside," my mother ushered. Following the two inside, my phone vibrated, looking briefly I read the name of the person who sent the text. I didn't need to read it to know it was trouble.

It was from Jane.