CHAPTER FIVE
EDEN
The second we get into my bedroom, I spin on Pete.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I rush out, slamming my hands over my mouth.
“I told him I was seeing someone and then your name came up and I just rolled with it. He’s leaving tomorrow, so I didn’t think it’d cause a problem, and I really didn’t think you’d come face to face.
” I groan into my hands, panic swallowing me whole.
“And now, you’re in my room, and he’s . . . oh shit, he’s in my spare room.”
Pete grabs my wrists, pulling my hands from my face. “Breathe,” he instructs, and I stare into his eyes, following his inhale and exhale. He gives a nod, satisfied. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that he’s the daddy?”
A laugh escapes me, but this is anything but funny. “Why did I open my stupid big mouth and lie?”
He blows out a breath. “He’s a biker,” he states, like that’s shocking information. “Am I lucky he didn’t rip my head off?”
I sigh, pacing to the window and back. “He wouldn’t dare.”
“If he’s leaving tomorrow, what’s the harm? You can tell him we broke up in a few weeks.”
I sigh heavily, giving a nod. He’s right. And if Kade finds out I’m single, he’d be trying to convince me to go back . . . and that’s not what I want. Is it?
I give my head a shake then force a smile. “You don’t have to stay over. I don’t even know why I said it. Just sneak out, he won’t know.”
He sits on the edge of the bed. “You wanna know what I think?”
I join him, tucking my hands into my lap. “You lied to stop yourself going back there. And if I’m here, he isn’t going to try his luck in the middle of the night.”
I scoff. “You clearly don’t know him. But you’re right, maybe I’m trying to protect my heart cos lord knows I don’t think I’ll survive him again.”
Peter takes my hand in his. “So, if this little white lie saves your heart, what’s the harm?”
KADE
I pace the room, my heart hammering so hard, it feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest.
Peter.
Fucking Peter.
Clean. Polished. Calm. The kind of bloke who probably owns matching mugs and irons his shirts. The kind of bloke who looks like he’s got his life lined up neatly, no blood under his nails, no ghosts following him into every room.
And he’s with her.
My Queenie.
Who the fuck gets with a pregnant woman unless he’s either a saint or a creep? Maybe it’s some kind of saviour complex. Maybe it’s a fetish. The thought twists my gut. and I shudder, disgust crawling up my spine, though I’m not entirely sure who I’m disgusted with.
Him.
Or me.
And now . . . now, he’s in there with her. In her bed. In the space that used to be mine.
My phone buzzes, and I snatch it up.
“D,” I mutter.
“Pres,” Diesel says. “How’s it going?”
“Not how I thought it would.”
There’s a pause. “That bad, huh?”
“Peter,” I say flatly, picking up a stuffed animal from the spare bed and turning it over in my hands. “Fucking perfect Pete.”
Another pause, longer this time. “Dare I ask?”
“Three months,” I snap. “That’s all it took. Three fucking months and she’s sharing a bed with some bloke who wears too much aftershave and looks like he’s never lifted anything heavier than a grocery bag.”
“No fucking way.”
“Oh yeah,” I mutter. “And now, I’m sleeping in her spare room like some distant cousin while he’s tucked up with my old lady.”
Diesel lets out a low chuckle. “Shit, Pres. I almost feel bad for you. How’s this guy still breathing?”
I scrub a hand down my face, dragging it over my beard. “She hates me, D. I can see it. It’s right there in her eyes.” My throat tightens. “There’s so much she wants to say to me, but she’s holding back. And I don’t want to add another reason for her to look at me like that.”
“Killing her new man might push her over the edge,” he agrees lightly.
“I’ll keep it as a last resort,” I mutter.
“So, what’s the plan?” Diesel asks. “You heading back early?”
“No.” I drop onto the bed, sinking into the unfamiliar pillows, staring up at a ceiling that isn’t mine. “Not without Eden. And not without my kid.” My chest aches at the words. “I’m staying. I need her to see I’m sorry.” I pause for a beat. “Everything okay back there?”
“Yeah,” Diesel replies. “Two runs done today. Three booked for tomorrow. Club’s steady. I’ve got it covered.”
“Good,” I murmur, even though my mind is miles away, locked in on a room down the hall, on a woman I broke, and on the realisation that someone else might be holding her together now.
I wake up early. It’s not habit, more reflex. My body doesn’t know how to rest properly anymore.
I lie there for a moment in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling, listening for signs of life.
It’s silent. No Eden moving around. No soft footsteps. No kettle boiling. And more importantly, no moaning or sounds of pleasure.
I drag myself up and head downstairs, rolling my shoulders like I’m gearing up for a fight. The kitchen light flicks on, harsh and white, and I stand there for a second, staring at a space, trying to picture Eden here, living without me.
I open cupboards and find pans, eggs, bread.
Cooking has never been my thing. Maggie feeds the club, Eden fed me. But right now, standing still feels pointless. I need to make every minute count if I want to win her back, starting with change.
So, I cook.
Bacon hits the pan and sizzles loud enough to fill the room.
I crack eggs with more force than necessary, shells biting into my fingers.
The smell starts to build—grease, toast, something warm and almost normal—and for a second, it tricks me into thinking this is just another morning back at the clubhouse.
Like she’s going to walk in half-asleep, steal a piece of bacon, and complain about the mess while perching on my lap.
I’m flipping eggs when footsteps sound on the stairs. I don’t turn right away. Then I hear her voice. Soft. Morning-rough. Too familiar.
“God, that smells—”
I turn.
Eden stands in the doorway, wrapped in a cardigan that hangs loose over her bump. And beside her . . .
Peter.
He’s freshly showered, relaxed, one arm resting casually at her back like it belongs there.
My jaw tightens.
She blinks when she sees me. Surprise flickers across her face, quickly masked by something neutral and polite.
“You’re cooking?” she asks.
I huff a breath. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I am shocked,” she replies quietly. “I’ve never seen you cook.”
There’s a dozen things I could say to that, but I settle on the safest. “There’s a lot you haven’t seen yet.”
Peter clears his throat. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I reply. I hate how comfortable he looks in my life, like he’s here to stay.
I gesture to the table. “Sit. Food’s almost ready.”
Eden hesitates just a beat, but Peter pulls the chair out for her so she sits. That tiny gesture shouldn’t feel like a punch to the gut, but it does.
I plate up and set everything down like this is normal. They start eating and making polite conversation amongst themselves.
Then more footsteps thud down the stairs and Martha appears, her hair messy and her hoodie pulled on. She stops short when she clocks the table.
Her lips twitch before she schools her expression. “Well,” she says lightly, “this is cosy.”
Eden shoots her a warning look.
Martha sits, her eyes flicking between us. “Weird, but cosy.”
I lean back slightly, watching how Eden picks at the toast. “You used to love a cooked breakfast,” I say. “I can make something else if you’d prefer.”
Martha rolls her eyes, huffing loudly. “So accommodating.”
“This is fine,” Eden mutters, now pushing the eggs around her plate.
I try again, quieter this time. “It’s important you eat something, Edes. For the baby.”
She nods without looking at me. “I will.”
Peter reaches for her hand. “He’s right.”
I look away before I lose my mind.
Martha watches the exchange, unimpressed. “Well,” she says, standing abruptly, “I’ve got things to do. Shocking, I know.”
She pauses, leaning closer to me. “Nice try,” she mutters. “But you don’t get points for eggs.” Then she’s gone.
Silence settles back over the table.
Eden finally looks up at me. There’s no anger in her eyes this time, just distance.
“What time do you leave?”
“Actually, I spoke with D last night. He’s coping fine, so I thought I’d stay a few days.” Her eyes snap to mine. I ignore her horrified expression and smile. “Obviously not here. I can stay at the B and B. I think Martha would prefer that.”
Peter stands, grabbing both our attention. “I’ll let you guys talk. I’ve got animals to feed.” He presses a light kiss to Eden’s head and leaves.
She waits for the sound of the door closing before turning back to me. “Why?”
“We still have things to discuss.”
“Like what?” I drag my eyes to her stomach, and she sighs. “The baby isn’t due for months. We can’t make plans until then.”
I shrug. “Maybe I just wanna do pregnancy stuff with you.”
Her eyes narrow this time. “I’ll pass, but thanks.” And she shoves her plate away with the food hardly touched.
“I wish you’d just yell or scream or something,” I mutter, standing and taking the plates away.
“All that’d do is make you feel better.”
“I hate that I don’t know what you’re thinking anymore,” I admit, scraping the food into the bin. “I used to know just by your expression.”
“We spent a long time apart,” she reminds me, her tone bitter. “Way before I left.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally ask, turning to face her. “About Liam? About the rape?” She inhales sharply. “Sorry, I hate bringing it up, but I have so many unanswered questions, and I know you do.”
“This is what you want to talk about?” she snaps, checking her watch. “At eight in the morning?” She shakes her head. “I don’t have questions. I’ve pushed all that to the back of my mind. I’m concentrating on my future.”
“Is that healthy?”
“You think I should keep reliving it?”
I sigh. “No, of course not. It’s just . . . bottling it up doesn’t help.”
She pushes to her feet, bracing her hands against the table. “Are you fucking kidding me, Kade?” she demands. “Coming from the man who shut down completely the second I told him.”
“I regret it,” I tell her. “If I could go back and change it—”
“Well, you can’t.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t believe you?”
She scoffs. “I thought you’d handle it badly, and I was right.” She heads for the door. “I don’t owe you an explanation, Kade. It was my rape. My attack. And it was up to me who I trusted with that. I’m sorry that hurts you, but it’s the truth.”
We both need a moment, so I let her leave.
EDEN
The fucking nerve of him, telling me I shouldn’t bottle things up when that’s exactly what he did. He’d locked everything away until there was no space left for me . . . until I left.
I pace the living room back and forth, my chest tight, anger fizzing under my skin like it’s looking for a way out. My hands shake. My heart races. It’s a feeling only Kade can bring out in me.
And then I snap.
I rip the door open and march straight back into the kitchen. This is long overdue.
He spins around at the sink, surprise flashing across his face as he twists the tap off. “You okay?”
“No,” I snap. The word tears out of me. “No, I’m not okay.”
He freezes.
“You thought you were protecting me,” I continue, my voice rising, breaking in places as I shake with anger, “but you weren’t. You brought Liam into my life. You.”
His eyes widen. He grabs the tea towel and dries his hands slowly like he’s bracing himself. “I know,” he says quietly, staring at the floor, “and I hate myself for it.”
“All the secrets,” I shout. “All the meetings in church with your fucking biker buddies. You told me you weren’t in those circles anymore, Kade. You told me we were running clean. If I'd known,” I take another shuddering breath, “I would’ve been more cautious.”
“I thought if you didn’t know,” he says, lifting his head now, pain etched deep into his face, “then it wouldn’t touch you.”
“But it did,” I scream. “And then you asked the very man who hurt me to spy on me because you didn’t trust me!”
Something fractures in his expression. His pain is raw, undeniable. “That’s not fair, Eden. I didn’t know. I didn’t know what he’d done. And I never asked him. I went to Jimmy for someone. He sent Liam.”
“You sent someone to spy on me,” I yell, my voice cracking. “Do you even hear how fucked-up that is?”
“I was going out of my mind,” he shouts back. “I didn’t know why you were acting so weird. You just checked out on me.”
“I flinched when you touched me,” I fire back, counting it off on my fingers like evidence in a trial. “I had no memory. I was covered in bruises and blood. And you decided the most logical explanation was that I must have cheated on you. Do you even know me at all?”
He exhales hard, shaking his head, eyes dropping again. “At the time, it wasn’t that clear. I thought you were guilty. I thought—”
“I loved you,” I interrupt, my voice shaking now. “You were my world. I would’ve done anything for you and your club. Anything. And you honestly thought I’d betray you like that?” I swallow hard. “I wanted your baby. We were actively trying.”
He shrugs miserably. “Jealousy does crazy things to your mind.” Then he looks up. “Loved?” he murmurs. “You said loved.”
Something splinters in my chest. “We’re over,” I say, forcing the words out even though they scrape my throat raw.
“But your eyes tell another story,” he says softly, stepping closer. He lifts a hand, brushing his thumb along my jaw, then cups my cheek like we haven’t spent the last few months apart. “I’m not giving up on us.”
I step back, and his hand drops back to his side.
“You already did,” I say quietly.