CHAPTER SEVEN
KADE
Martha was right about one thing––the diary is stacked today. There’s no way Diesel could’ve covered my clients and his own. So, I stay at the shop, working back-to-back sessions, feeling every minute stretch like a taut wire ready to snap.
Between tattoo appointments, I call Martha. Once. Twice. Five times.
And nothing. She doesn’t answer, and doesn’t return the calls. I drop a couple of texts, they also go unanswered.
An ache starts in my chest, a dull, dragging weight that settles under my ribs and won’t shift. I keep picturing Eden from last night, all dressed up, glowing, laughing with Fern, and then the version of her at four a.m.
Confused. Lost. Sick. Terrified.
None of it makes sense. And the longer I sit without answers, the more my mind claws at the worst possibilities.
Diesel’s right, men piss up bins. There’s no way nobody saw her lying there. Not for hours. Not in that area.
My stomach knots tighter.
She could’ve been with anyone. A stupid, drunken mistake she regretted the second it happened. Throwing her phone, losing her purse might have been a frantic attempt to cover her tracks.
I shake my head, furious at myself. My Eden isn’t like that. She wouldn’t.
But doubt is a vicious thing, and it gnaws at me the entire day, picking at every memory, every silence, every flinch she gave me last night.
By the time I get home, I’m hanging on by a thread.
And finding Eden curled up in bed watching a movie with Martha, acting like everything is normal, snaps something in me.
“I told you to call me,” I bark.
Martha sits up straight. “That’s my fault. I made her relax. The doctor said she has a concussion—”
“I tried to call you several times!” I snap; eyes locked on her.
“I couldn’t answer in the hospital, and then I forgot.”
“Get out,” I growl. “I want to talk to my ol’ lady.”
Eden nods weakly, giving her permission, and Martha slips out, though her glare on the way tells me she hates leaving.
I slam the door behind her and lock it.
“Explain,” I demand.
Eden’s voice is small. “Like she said, I have a concussion.”
“Not that,” I growl, stepping closer. “The other stuff. Where you were. Why you’re acting weird.”
“Kade, I don’t remember.”
“Bullshit, Eden.” My voice cracks with something sharp and ugly. “Total fucking bullshit. You remember the beginning of your night perfectly. But the exact bit where you vanished? That’s the part you forget?”
Her shoulders stiffen. “What are you trying to say?”
I drag a hand down my face, trying to steady myself, failing. “Did you cheat on me?”
Her mouth drops open. “You think I lost the girls on purpose?” Her voice shakes. “That I went looking for some random hook-up?”
“I don’t know, Eden!” I shout, slamming my palm into the wall. The sound makes her flinch, and guilt mixes with fury. “I don’t know what the fuck to think, but you’re hiding something,” I add, quieter but no less intense.
Her body trembles. She covers her mouth with both hands, sobbing so hard her breaths come in pieces.
“G–get out,” she chokes.
“I just want the truth,” I say, softer but desperate.
“N–now, K–Kade,” she begs, each word broken with trembling sobs.
And all I can think is, she hasn’t denied it. Not once.
My stomach turns to stone.
I storm from the room, yanking the door open so hard it bangs against the wall, and I nearly collide with Martha.
She’s been waiting outside. Listening. Her eyes burn with fury.
I don’t look at her for long, the rage inside me is too hot.
I walk away, every step heavier than the last, the image of Eden sobbing burned into the back of my skull like a brand.
EDEN
“Shh,” Martha whispers, stroking my hair and holding me against her like she’s trying to keep me from falling apart completely. Her arms are tight. Steady. While mine feel useless, limp at my sides as another wave of sobs rips through me.
“It’s going to be okay,” she murmurs.
But she’s wrong. Nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be the same again.
The doctor’s voice still echoes in my head––calm, gentle, but ending my old life with her words.
She told me the truth I didn’t want to hear.
That my nightmare wasn’t imagined. That my memories might come back in pieces, out of order, jumbled.
But they would only continue to confirm everything I already knew.
She told me the tests had to be done. That I’d have to wait for results to see if this nightmare would get any worse. If that was even possible.
And then the pill.
That tiny pill in her palm—the one that might erase everything me and Kade have been praying for—just to make sure I don’t carry a stranger’s child.
I fold in on myself, sobbing harder. I can’t breathe around the ache in my chest.
“You need to tell him,” Martha whispers, her voice tight with fear and anger but also love. I shake my head violently. “He knows something’s wrong,” she insists. “You heard him, Eden. He thinks you’ve cheated.”
“I have,” I whisper.
Martha jerks back so fast I’m forced to look at her. Her eyes are wide and horrified. “Eden,” she breathes, cupping my face. “No. You did not cheat. Don’t you dare say that about yourself.”
“It feels like it,” I choke. “It feels like it because—because—” My voice collapses. “I had sex with another man.”
Martha’s face breaks. Her brows knot. Her lips tremble. “You didn’t choose this,” she says fiercely. “You didn’t want this. You didn’t invite it. You didn’t give permission. That is not sex, Eden. And it is not cheating.”
I look away, shame burning through me, hot and blinding. “But it happened,” I whisper, the words shaking. “And Kade will see it as betrayal. I know him. I know how his mind works. He’ll think what I thought—that I left the club and… and did something stupid. I was irresponsible.”
Martha pulls me into her arms again, holding me like she can shield me from the world. “He won’t,” she whispers. “Not when he knows the truth. Not when he knows what really happened.”
“Kade will want answers.” My voice cracks on the last word.
“Until my memory comes back, I can’t give him any.
I can’t tell him what I don’t remember, or what I only half remember.
” I rub at my face, but the tears keep spilling anyway.
“I’ll tell him when I can make sense of it,” I whisper.
“When I can put everything in the right order in my own head. Because right now?” I shake my head, helpless.
“Everything is jumbled and messy, and terrifying. I don’t know which memories are real, and which ones my brain is filling in to protect me. ”
Martha squeezes my hand, but it does nothing to stop the trembling.
“I want to tell him,” I admit, the words barely holding together.
“God, I want to tell him, but how do I explain something I can’t even explain to myself yet?
” My breath stutters. “How do I say it out loud when I still don’t understand how it happened, or why I can’t remember, or why I feel like I’m going to drown every time I try to think about it? ”
KADE
“Pres, you should go to bed,” Jet says gently.
I twist a strand of her dark hair around my finger, drunk and aching, and give her a sloppy smile. “She cheated,” I slur.
Jet’s expression softens. “She didn’t cheat, Pres. Eden loves you.”
I scoff, shaking my head. “You’re a club whore, Jet. You shouldn’t be lecturing me like I’m some good little boy.”
“I’m lecturing you because you’re hurting, and you’ll hate yourself in the morning if you do shit you wouldn’t normally do. Go to bed.”
“She’s right, Pres,” Smoke says, thumping my back. “We’re looking out for you.” He hooks my arm over his shoulder and hauls me upright. “We love Eden too. Don’t fuck it up while you’ve got Jack Daniels for a brain.”
“She cheated!” I snap, the word tearing out of me like it’s been clawing at my insides all night.
Smoke huffs. “She did no such thing, and you know it. We’ve all been drunk and woken up somewhere we can’t explain. Once I slept with my feet in a pond. Some old lady woke me up with a cuppa and a towel.”
I grunt, rubbing my face. “She’s never done this before.”
“No, but birthdays do crazy shit to us, we drink more, take more risks,” he mutters as we climb the stairs. “But don’t go inventing shit in your head.”
He pushes my bedroom door open, the room’s empty. Panic punches through my chest. I shove past him, roaring her name. “Eden!”
Smoke grabs my shoulder. “Relax, Pres. I’ll go find her.”
But she’s already there, rushing from the hallway, eyes blazing when she sees me.
“He panicked,” Smoke explains, stepping aside.
“I’m in with Martha,” Eden snaps. “I’m not sleeping with you when you don’t trust me.”
“I can’t trust you when I know you’re keeping secrets!” I yell, angry at everything and nothing.
Her voice is cold when she says, “Then we have a problem.” She turns and walks away, shutting me out with every step.
Smoke gives me a sad, tired smile. “Sleep it off, Pres. You’ll sort it out in the morning.”
I drop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, my heart thudding like I’ve been stabbed clean through.
But even through the haze of alcohol, one thing is clear.
This won’t be fixed in the morning.
EDEN
Things between Kade and me have reached a standstill. A cold, heavy silence neither of us knows how to thaw.
Days have passed. Days of avoiding him, of slipping out of rooms when he walks in, of pretending I don’t hear his footsteps in the hall.
I’m furious at him. The accusations. The shouting. The way he made my heart feel small when I needed him to hold it steady.
And Jet… God, Jet. The moment I argued with him, he turned to a club girl. My friend. That betrayal stings deeper than I want to admit.
On top of that, the doctor was right, the memories have begun to drip back, slow and jagged, like broken glass cutting through fog. Not clear, not whole, but enough.
I remember the weight pressing me down. The panic. The wrong smell. The roughness. The fear. I remember not being able to move.
And the doctor’s words keep echoing in my mind. The internal bruising she found was consistent with an assault. Not a drunken fall. Not a mistake. Not something I imagined.
Martha took photographs of the bruises on my arms and ribs, just in case. They’re fading now, but the ones in my mind feel permanent.
I climb onto the roof of the clubhouse because it’s the only place that feels untouched by all this. From up here, Nottingham stretches out in every direction - lights, roads, rooftops. The world looks normal. Peaceful.
My world isn’t.
I hear the rusty door hinge creak. I don’t need to turn around to know it’s Kade.
His presence changes the air, making it heavier. He steps closer, but not too close, as though whatever I have is catching. Or maybe it’s just in my head.
“Do you need a jacket?” he asks quietly.
I shake my head. He hesitates, then says, “When I couldn’t see you at the dinner table, I panicked.”
I swallow hard, keeping my eyes on the skyline.
He panicked?
I’ve been living inside panic for days, drowning in it, while he got drunk and tried to stumble into Jet’s arms.
“I don’t feel hungry,” I mutter.
“Me either,” Kade says quietly.
He walks toward the edge of the roof, stopping dangerously close to the drop. Normally, I’d warn him. Tell him to step back. Tell him to stop tempting fate.
But today? Today, all I can do is watch.
Because for two days straight, the same thought has circled my mind like a vulture. What if I just let go? Would the fall feel like freedom? Would the noise in my head finally go silent?
I wrap my arms around myself, swallowing the thought before it takes shape again.
“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, voice low. “I should’ve handled everything better.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
His brow creases. “I miss you.”
“I haven’t gone anywhere.”
He lets out a short breath, half laugh, half heartbreak. “Oh, you have, Queenie. You checked out days ago.”
I don’t respond. I don’t know how.
“I love you,” he says, the words rough. “Not being around you is killing me. We’ve been inseparable since the day we met. Can we move forward?”
I nod, because I do miss him. But the anger still sits in my throat like smoke.
“Really?” he asks softly. “Because you’re not acting like you want to sort this.”
I finally look at him, really look, and he shifts under the weight of it.
“Jet?” Is all I say.
He groans. “I knew she’d tell you.”
“You picked her. My friend.” My voice shakes. “So what was it? Did you want to hurt me because you knew she’d tell me, or did you want to hurt me by choosing someone close to me?”
“Queenie, I was upset. I wouldn’t have gone there—” His voice fades into a ringing in my ears. The world tilts. A flash of a memory hits hard and disjointed—a voice using Kade’s nickname for me.
Queenie. Queenie. Hold still, you slut. Be quiet. That’s it, take it like a greedy little bitch.
I blink. The roof snaps back into focus. Kade’s staring at me, panic rising in his eyes.
“Eden—Eden, where do you keep going?” he asks, stepping toward me.
I stumble back, shaking my head, my throat closing up. The truth hits me with cold, brutal clarity.
He knew me.
“I’m sorry,” I choke out, pushing past Kade. I ignore his desperate voice calling after me.
I run.
Down the stairs, through the hall, straight to Martha’s room.
She’s sitting on her bed knitting, the soft click of needles stopping the second she sees my face.
“He knew me,” I squeak, barely able to breathe. “He knew me as Queenie.”
Martha drops the needles instantly, reaching for me.
And the moment her arms close around me, I break.