Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(16)

His seduction works—soft touches, softer words. When he whispers, “Just let it go, Essalin,” I nod into his hand.

“I’ll let it go,” I murmur.

“No more questions,” he says.

I nod again. “No more questions.” Oh, please keep touching me.

But he lowers his hand from my face, and like a spell that’s been broken, I open my eyes. After a long silence on both our parts, most of which, for me, is spent recovering, Farren says, “So, what about those calls? Do you have any you’d like to make?”

“Um, yeah”—I sigh—“I should call my parents.”

Farren nods an assent, but warns, “Don’t mention anything about Haven being gone.”

I frown. “I wasn’t planning to.”

“And don’t tell your parents how far away you may be traveling.”

My eyes meet his. “You don’t think we’ll find Haven in Indianapolis, do you?”

Pain flashes in eyes as vibrant and green as emeralds, and I have my answer—Indianapolis is just a starting point, a place to search for clues.

I take out my phone and sit on the bottom step. Farren goes outside to give me some privacy, and I then call my parents.

Regardless of his warning, I never intended to disclose all that has happened. But, because I am an adult—like Haven reminded me during our last night spent together—I do finally take a stand.

When I inform my mom I won’t be staying on campus this summer, which means no summer classes, she flips. “What the hell, Essa? Your father and I already told you no to New York City.”

“I’m not going to New York,” I calmly reply. It’s true.

Sounding confused, Mom says, “Where do you plan on spending the summer then, if not at school?”

Like there are no other options, I think to myself with a roll of my eyes.

My silence results in my mother continuing. “Don’t even think about coming home for the summer.”

I wouldn’t.

“Your father and I are not going to put up with you lazing around the house.”

As if.

“Not when you could be doing something much more productive.”

Productive? Wonder if searching for my missing best friend qualifies as productive? As far as I’m concerned, it’s sure as hell a lot more meaningful than taking classes I don’t even need. Bottom line, Haven is in danger and rescuing her trumps everything, including my parents’ priorities.

“I’ll be helping out a friend this summer,” I tell my mother. Another truth told.

She doesn’t ask for elaboration. All I get is a sigh and this: “Do what you want, Essa. But know that there will be repercussions come fall.”

The rent is paid up on the apartment until September, but I suspect said repercussions will include a move back to the dorms for me, just like I told Haven.

“Whatever,” I say, sighing. And then I add, “I have to go.” One final truth uttered.

I do have to go. I so very much do.



Talking with my mom leaves me feeling kind of down, so I don’t have much to say as Farren and I walk to where he parked his car a few blocks away. I spend the time trying to distract myself by imagining what kind of fancy car he may have brought to Oakwood. Haven is always going on and on about how Farren loves expensive sports cars. He supposedly owns more than a few.

When Farren stops next to a white, boring midsized sedan, I am sorely disappointed. He laughs when he catches me frowning. “Expecting something different?” he asks. He turns away and pops open the trunk.

“Yeah,” I admit, hanging back. “I kind of was.”

His muscular body blocks my view of whatever he’s messing with in the trunk’s interior, but I’m cool with that. God, his ass looks amazing in blue jeans. I prefer that view to whatever is in the trunk.

“Like what?” he asks, back still turned, and oblivious to my ogling.

“Um, I don’t know”—I clear my throat and try to focus—“maybe something a little sportier.”

“Sportier?”

“Yeah, you know, like a Ferrari or something.”

Farren coughs out an amused laugh as he places my suitcase in the trunk. With ease, I take note as I watch his rather impressive arms flex.

He slams the trunk shut and turns back to me. “This is just a rental,” he explains, gesturing to the car. “We’ll be changing out vehicles every few hundred miles.” He starts toward the driver’s door and tosses out over his shoulder, “But, hey, I’ll work on getting us that Ferrari.”

I assume he’s joking and roll my eyes. But, damn, I like his witty retorts.

Yeah, you could say Farren is surpassing everything I ever dreamed he’d be. Even when he’s kind of a cocky smartass—which is often—I like him. In fact, I like that he’s not a pushover or some jerky college boy. I like that his face is stunning to look at, and I like that he has a body to drool over. I like his confidence; I like his style. And, truth is, I like that he’s a little dangerous…and a whole lot mysterious.

I just wish the circumstances that have brought us together could be different.





My arm is out the window, my hand swishing through the air. It may not be a sports car, but, damn, I’m making the most of the miles Farren and I are covering in the boring white sedan. We’ve been on the road for a few hours and most recently passed a sign indicating we’ve crossed in to the state of Ohio.