Loving Eva (Honey Springs #3)

Prologue

Eva

“What do you mean you’re not staying with me?” Brandon’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and disbelieving. He stands at the doorway of my bedroom, arms crossed, his expression tight with frustration.

I lift my gaze from the suitcase on my bed and meet his eyes. “I was very clear from the beginning. I told you I was moving back to North Carolina after I finished school. You said you were willing to move with me. Did you forget that part, or were you just saying what I wanted to hear?”

I remember that conversation like it was yesterday.

Our first date, sitting on the patio of that little taco place in Tampa, laughing over margaritas.

I told him then—I’m only here for school.

My life, my heart, has always been in Honey Springs.

He said he understood. That he admired my drive. That he’d follow me anywhere.

So how are we here now?

“Eva, baby, that was two years ago,” he says, stepping into the room like he’s trying to close the distance between us. “Things have changed. I just got this incredible job offer and finally getting to do what I’ve worked so hard for—I can’t walk away from that.”

“I’m not asking you to walk away from your dreams. I’m just not going to abandon mine either.

” My voice shakes, but I hold his gaze. “I’m not staying in Florida, Brandon.

I’ve told you for months that I was getting ready to move.

You nodded, you smiled, you said we’d figure it out, but now that it’s real, you’re panicking. ”

Exhaling, he runs a hand through his hair. “Just give it a little more time. Move in with me. We can build something here. You don’t even have to work if you don’t want to. Keep doing your skincare videos, I’ll take care of everything else.”

My stomach twists. “That’s not what I want.” It comes out quieter than I mean it to, but firmer too. “I’ve worked too hard for this. I didn’t spend years studying and building my brand on social media just to shelve it for a life that fits you better than it fits us.”

“Eva—”

“No.” I close the suitcase with finality. “You made a promise. I made plans. And now we’re here, and it’s clear that we’re not on the same page anymore.”

He runs a hand over his face, exasperated. “You’re being dramatic. Are you really going to throw everything away over a zip code?”

I blink at him, stunned. “A zip code? Brandon, I’m going home. To my family. To the town where I belong. I’ve been here since I was eighteen—Florida was never the plan. It was just a step toward something bigger. You knew that.”

“Oh? Well, apparently people change. Plans change. I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.”

That stings more than I expect. “So you thought, what? That I’d just stay here forever? Wait around for you to decide what you want while I forget what I’ve worked for?”

I see his jaw tighten. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. We’ve got a good thing here. A real future. And honestly, this whole social media skincare thing… it’s cute, but it’s not like you need to move states for it.”

I stare at him. Cute.

There it is.

The final crack in the illusion I’ve been holding onto.

All the times he smiled and nodded when I talked about formulations or ingredient testing.

All the times he called me “babe” while scrolling on his phone, barely listening as I showed him a brand pitch or a product review I was proud of.

He never took it seriously. He never took me seriously.

I step back, my voice icy now. “It’s not cute, Brandon.

It’s a business. A platform I built from scratch.

Do you know how many nights I stayed up editing videos after studying for finals?

How many times I skipped out on sleep to create content, research ingredients, connect with followers because I actually give a damn about what I do? ”

He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “It’s just social media.”

And that’s it.

That’s the moment I realize I’ve been wasting my time.

All this time, I’ve been explaining myself to a man who doesn’t listen. Fighting for a future with someone who stopped seeing me a long time ago. Or maybe he never did. Maybe he was just playing along until it got inconvenient.

“You said you could be a lawyer anywhere,” I say quietly. “That’s what you told me. That you’d support me no matter what.”

“I didn’t think I’d actually have to,” he mutters, and then looks away like he regrets saying it.

But it’s too late.

I nod slowly, my throat tightening with a cocktail of disappointment and something else that feels like relief. “Well, now you don’t have to.”

Confused, he stares at me, blinking. “Eva—”

“I’m done, Brandon. I’m not going to beg you to love me the way I deserve. And I’m definitely not going to let you minimize my dreams to keep yours alive.”

Scoffing, he throws his hands up. “This is ridiculous. You’ll regret this.”

“No. I won’t.”

Brandon shakes his head, his jaw clenched as he grabs his keys from the counter. “You’re making a mistake,” he says flatly, then walks out the door without another word.

The sound of it slamming behind him echoes through the apartment like a final goodbye.

I don’t move right away, just stand there, staring at the closed door, feeling a hundred different things press in on me at once: anger, sadness, disbelief. But beneath it all, there’s something else growing stronger.

Freedom.

I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed, letting out a shaky breath.

The suitcase beside me is already half-zipped, packed tight with everything I’m taking back home.

I glance around the room at the life I’ve built here over the past five years.

A string of fairy lights still hanging across the wall that I have to take down tomorrow.

The framed degrees above the desk. The skincare shelves I installed myself.

Each corner holds a memory, but suddenly they all feel like they belong to someone else.

This apartment has been my entire world since my first year of graduate school. I’ve studied here, cried here, fallen in love and—somewhere along the way—lost myself here.

And through it all, I’ve missed out on so much.

I picture my nieces and nephew, how much they’ve grown in the time I’ve been away. I’ve watched one of them take their first steps and blow out birthday candles through a phone screen. I’ve missed dance recitals, school plays, Sunday dinners. My chest aches just thinking about it.

And now Noah has a baby named Everly. I still get emotional every time I look at the picture he sent of her tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb. My big brother’s a dad, and I want to be there for that. For all of it.

It’s time to go home.

I rise to my feet and do one last walkthrough, checking the corners of the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Every drawer closed; every box sealed. My eyes linger on the mirror above the dresser—on the reflection of a woman who has changed more than she realized.

I put away the last of my things and finish zipping the suitcase closed.

Tomorrow, I’m heading home to Honey Springs.

To family, to friends, to the version of myself I’ve missed.

To the life I’ve been dreaming about for years.

And this time, I’m doing it on my terms.