forty-eight
“They’re here!” Faith’s voice calls.
It’s six in the afternoon, and we’re still in their hotel, in Boston.
Eden and I climb the stairs down to the lobby, where I have arranged for us to have complete privacy. I have invited two people to the hotel, but I wasn’t sure they’d come.
My guests didn’t know if they would get off their shift at work in time.
The girls and I can’t delay our flight to Europe any longer, so it would be impossible to meet them tomorrow, but it all worked out perfectly: they are here. I see them from afar as we enter the lobby. A man and a woman, waiting for us.
“Eden,” I say, “I would like you to meet, erm…” I’ve forgotten their names.
“I am Captain Sawyer,” the tall man with the beard says.
“And I am Kim Han,” adds the willowy lady with the low bun. “And we are first responders.”
“Nice to meet you,” Eden says, looking lost. “What are you—?”
“We are the first responders,” Kim says helpfully. “I am a firefighter and the captain is a paramedic.”
“We are the ones who found you,” Captain Sawyer adds, his voice surprisingly gentle for that mountain of a man. “The ones who answered your 911 call. Four years ago.”
Eden takes in a sharp breath, and my arm goes around her waist on instinct. But her breathing is normal, and she does not look pale.
“You remember me?” she asks.
“We sure do, miss Elliot,” Kim replies.
“C-call me Eden,” Eden says, and then she needs to sit down. We all sit around her, and wait for her to catch her breath. “Thank you,” she says finally.
“Thank yourself,” Kim tells her, admiration shining in her eyes. “You had the presence of mind to call 911 after… All that.”
“I don’t even remember doing it,” Eden says, looking like she is about to get dragged under the memories, but she’s safe here. We are all here. We have her. “Someone broke me in that house. I am broken.”
The captain is already shaking his head. “Anyone less broken than you, young lady, I have yet to see. Let me tell you who I saw that day. I remember it as if it was yesterday. You were so brave in the midst of such tragedy, and my heart broke for you. Kim and I checked up on you afterwards, in the hospital. You are a fighter, a survivor. ”
“We have seen terrible things in this world, and I can testify to this: You are not what happened to you,” Kim says. “You are what you did after that. What you are doing now.”
“A rescuer of dogs,” I say, and Eden looks at me strangely.
“What now?” the captain asks, his interest piqued, and I relate the story of how Eden jumped in the waterfall to save Pooh last summer. The captain gets more and more impressed, even as his brows draw together when he understands how close we came to disaster that day.
“Sounds like you’re someone we would like to recruit, Eden,” Kim says, smiling with excitement.
Don’t you start with that.
“I don’t think so,” Eden replies. “I’ve been diagnosed with severe PTSD.”
“So have we,” Captain Sawyer says somberly. His eyes have not left Eden’s face for a second. “It’s what happens when you learn to survive. It happened to you sooner in life than it happened to us,” he points between himself and Kim, “but all it means is that you are brave. Strong. The kind of person who saves lives—including your own, if need be.”
I can confirm this is true. I have known both trauma and success. One does not replace the other. They both require handling—and I have handled both very badly. Eden hasn’t.
“It all depends on how you behave in the face of tragedy,” I say slowly. Mostly so that I can hear it myself. “What you think, what you do… What you choose to do.”
Kim is nodding. “And what I saw that day was a kid who chose to face things head on and be strong. To do what she had to do, even while she was falling apart. You always have a choice, Eden, and you chose strength. That is very rare, and I am lucky to have witnessed it.”
“Hey, stop trying to recruit her, Sergeant,” I joke, but deep down I’m terrified. Because these two are right. Eden would make a perfect first responder. She is calm in chaos, she is wise, responsible, and the most caring and brave person on the planet. And I should know, I have met most persons on the planet at this point.
“I’ve also had an offer from a queen,” Eden muses, her cheeks growing red. I meet her eyes, and she’s biting back a laugh. Oh, she’s enjoying this, isn’t she? Making me squirm.
“You seem to be in high demand. Are you going to make them fight for you, honey?” Kim asks, glowing like a proud mom .
“Sure am,” Eden says.
Suddenly, I remember the slam of jealousy that assaulted me last month when Jude told me that Eden preferred Theo’s security detail to mine.
Well, two can play at this game.
“A movie star is also trying to recruit her,” I add, thinking of Spencer and his idiotic schemes to write with her. Although, knowing him, he and Eden are probably already in talks about it. His idiotic schemes tend to come to fruition these days. “Everyone wants her. Kings and queens and everyone that matters.”
Do I matter? That is the question.
“Sounds that way.” Kim is looking at Eden with open admiration.
“It doesn’t feel that way,” Eden says, turning serious again. “I thought I would have fixed myself by now, but it’s taking time—if it will happen at all. I still struggle with feeling unwanted. It may never pass.” My body freezes up. “I keep having this… This flight response. I’m working on it, but it’s not going away.”
“All that means,” Kim’s tone is gentle but not condescending, “is that you need people in your life who will stay.”
“I will stay,” I say on reflex.
The captain smiles up at me with approval. “Hear that? This one stays.”
“I have been hearing that,” Eden looks at me. “For a year now.”
“Well, then, seems like he’s telling the truth,” he says. “And you also have a pair of ‘who do I have to kill’ sisters, if I’m not mistaken. Your young man told me about him.”
“She does,” I say. “And the one they mostly want to kill is me.”
“I highly doubt that,” Kim says and turns to face Eden. “You have so many guardian angels. Your bodyguards. And this guy.” Both she and the captain shake their heads at me.
“What?” I ask, on the defensive. “I’m just ‘this guy’? Am I not a ‘who do I have to kill’ sort of boyfriend?”
Eden blushes to the roots of her hair hearing me call myself her ‘boyfriend’. I smile widely—I can’t help it.
I’ve not actually asked her if she wants to be my girlfriend in so many words. I should have done that—I was ambushed by my own feelings today. But I’ll ask her. And if she says yes, she will hear me call myself her ‘boyfriend’ so many times, she’ll get sick of it.
Although it was totally worth it to say it without warning, just so I could make her blush like this .
“Oh, you are, heartbreaker,” the captain says, to my surprise. “I’ll tell you one thing: The day we found her, I was scared. Truly scared for this kid. I have never seen a case of kidnapping so severe—never expected to find her alive in the first place. You have a miracle right there. But even so, I wondered if and how she would survive. And boy did she survive. She exceeded expectations. She thrived. Now I know why: it’s you.”
“You’ll give him an even huger ego,” Faith murmurs. I texted her to come down at some point after the ‘who do I have to kill’ sisters. Now she’s making everyone laugh. I wink at her.
“This is Faith,” I say to the captain and Kim.
“The sister,” Faith adds ominously.
They both shake her hand warmly. She sits down next to Eden, and she doesn’t thank them for saving her—although I know she wants to. But I know her, and if she thanks them, she’ll cry, and she hasn’t cried. Yet.
“Before I forget,” the captain points a finger at me. “I always listen to your songs while I’m on duty. Saint Hope … Man. What a talent.”
Wait—he what?
“Indeed,” Kim says dryly. “My teen daughters are obsessed with you, and against my will, I know every single one of your lyrics.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, grinning.
“No need to apologize,” she says, “but, here’s a thought, how about making a happy song once in a while?”
“I am making them now,” I say, my eyes on Eden.
We talk for a bit, but as soon as they lapse into relaying various first-responder stories, I see Eden go pale and I gently remind them that they have to leave. I have been around my share of first responders because of my concerts, and I know that these guys deserve nothing but my utmost respect and admiration. But once they get started on all the horrible, tragic, or plain-out weird accidents they have witnessed, they can’t stop. It’s just stories to them, stories they lived through and survived, usually saving multiple people in the process. But to us mere civilians they sound like horror movies.
They leave soon afterwards, and Eden just sits there, digesting everything.
“Thank you,” she tells me and hugs me tightly.
“I just wanted to find someone else to tell you what I have known since the minute I met you. ”
“And what was that?”
“How strong you are. I know you don’t always see it yourself but… It’s true. Eden, do you know what you did the first time I met you after four years? You jumped off a cliff to save a dog’s life. When you didn’t know how to swim.”
“Not any dog,” she smiles. “Pooh.”
I close my eyes. “Pooh, yeah. But you almost drowned, Eden.” The memory makes my chest stop working, even now. “The danger meant little to you, because that’s the way you love. Fearlessly. Bravely. You just… That was the moment I recognized you. You were my Eden. I knew you.”
“Because I nearly drowned?”
“Because you jumped into the water for a dog.”
“Doesn’t that just prove I’m stupid?”
I laugh. We need to work on that, on her always getting to the wrong conclusion. I have the rest of my life to do the work. I’m not scared of it. I’m looking forward to it.
“Stupid?” I repeat. “Who writes my songs, huh? My Grammy nominated songs? If they are stupid, then you are millions worth of stupid, Elliot.”
“How romantic,” she says, but she’s beginning to smile. “Are you a poet, by any chance?”
“No,” I say, as I always do. “I’m just a singer. You’re the poet.”
She rises on her tiptoes and kisses me.
She hasn’t done that in more than four years. I kiss her back like a man consumed by hunger, my hands raking her hair. Her breath hitches as she slides her fingers into the hook of my belt, pulling me closer and my body goes hard all over. I stop breathing.
“I miss Pooh,” she says into my lips.
Mine stretch into a smile, but I’m still kissing her. I don’t remove my mouth from hers, instead I deepen the kiss, making her melt right here, in my hands. She starts to go limp against me, but I’m not letting her fall. I’m just going to make her fall apart, but I’ll be right here to catch her.
I murmur something into her lips, and she moans and dips lower. I brace her hipbones against my thighs, wrapping a knee around her to lift her up closer to my height. Then I repeat what I just said:
“Let’s go home, baby.”