Chapter 15 Running on Fire （Eden）
RUNNING ON FIRE (EDEN)
Istare at the email, cursor blinking accusingly. Three drafts deleted, and I still can’t find the words that won’t make me sound like a coward.
Finally, I type: Hey, Melissa. Feeling under the weather—can Alex cover my Defenders sessions today? Can you ask Monica to reschedule the rest?
I hit send before I chicken out.
The reply comes fast: No problem, we got you. Feel better, Eden.
Short. Kind. No questions. Which somehow makes me feel worse for lying to her.
I toss the device onto the couch and sink down beside it, knees pulled to my chest. The apartment feels too quiet. Nate’s kiss replays in my head on a brutal loop—I can still taste him on my lips, whiskey and want and ten years of silence breaking. Still feel how my body came alive under his touch.
And then his words, low and dangerous: “Come upstairs with me. Let me show you what you mean to me.”
My stomach plummeted when he said it—not from fear of him, but from fear of what would happen if I let go.
Because I was that close to letting go.
I’ve spent years craving the idea of giving up control.
It’s lived only in my head, tucked away in the quiet, secret corners no one else can reach.
I’ve never trusted anyone enough to give it to them.
The thought of a man truly taking it, owning it, has always been the frightening thing I wanted but never believed I could allow myself, not after what happened to me in college.
And last night, with Nate, it wasn’t just a thought anymore. He’s the one man who could take it from me and make me want to give it. That kiss, that growled command, was the edge of everything I’ve feared and wanted.
And how fucked up is it that instead of allowing him to give me what I imagined for years, I’m terrified? Even more than staying numb forever. What if I surrender, and he decides I’m not worth keeping? What if I fall, and there’s no one there to catch me?
Last night, I ran because the unknown was worse than the predictable reality I’ve lived with for years. At least numbness is safe. What Nate offered was everything I’ve never had, and I don’t know if I could survive it, if—when—he realizes I’m not enough.
I bury my face in my hands. Other men I could keep at arm’s length. But Nate? He already knows every weakness, every crack in my armor. He could slip past my defenses without even trying. He’s the only person I ever trusted completely. Which makes him the only one who could break me beyond repair.
My phone buzzes on the counter, sharp enough to make me flinch.
Nate
Skipping out on me, Trouble?
A short sentence. That’s all it takes to unravel me.
I stare at his message, heart pounding. He makes it sound casual, teasing even, but I can feel the edge under it. The challenge. The fact that he knows exactly why I didn’t show up at the Defenders complex today.
Finally, I type.
Eden
I just...can’t today, Magic Man.
The typing bubbles appear immediately.
Nate
You can run today. But you’re not hiding from me forever.
The message sits there, glowing, burning into me. Because if I see him again, if he looks at me the same way he did last night, I won’t be strong enough to leave again.
The mat smells of sweat and disinfectant, the sharp, clean scent that usually settles me. Not today.
I tie my belt tighter, trying to shake off the tension knotted in my core. The storm in my head hasn’t let up since the bar. Every time I replay that kiss, my stomach twists—fear, want, confusion tangled together.
Lukas grins at me from across the mat. “You ready to make me tap, gorgeous?”
“Always,” I mutter, sliding into stance.
We roll. It’s controlled chaos, but I’m pushing too hard, attacking instead of flowing. My mind isn’t here; it’s back in that bar, under Nate’s hands, burning with the memory of how right it felt to surrender, even for a moment.
I catch Lukas in a choke so tight, he taps faster than usual.
“Damn, girl.” He sits up, rubbing his neck. “Who pissed you off?”
I force a tight smile. “My week fought back.”
He leans on his elbows, watching me with easy charm. “You know, I could help. Whatever’s chewing you up, I’m a good listener. Or a good distraction.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Dinner?”
For a second, I consider it. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to saying yes. Lukas is predictable. Controlled. With him, I’d stay guarded. But safe doesn’t make my pulse race. Safe doesn’t make my body burn the way Nate does just by existing.
“It’s still a no, lover boy,” I tell him.
He shrugs, unaffected. “See you next time, gorgeous.”
In the locker room, I shower quickly, but no amount of hot water can wash away the truth: predictable doesn’t touch the place Nate’s set ablaze.
When I walk in, the apartment is enveloped in the smell of buttered popcorn. Liz is sprawled on the couch, blanket draped over her legs, eyes glued to some rom-com where the couple is kissing in the rain.
“You missed the dramatic declaration,” she says without looking over. “He told her he couldn’t live without her while she was boarding the plane.”
I drop my bag by the door. “Shocking plot twist. Does she stay?”
“Obviously. Get over here. You look like you went twelve rounds with life and life won.”
“I won,” I mutter, collapsing beside her. “Lukas tapped out in under two minutes.”
She snorts. “You choked out lover boy again? Harsh. What’d he do, ask you out again?”
“Of course he did. And I said no as usual.”
“Poor guy.” Liz clutches her heart dramatically. “Fine, then tell me about last night. Did Escort Ken Doll sweep you off your feet with his premium services?”
I groan. “Don’t call him that.”
“Why not? He’s literally a professional. So? Was he worth the hourly rate?”
My cheeks heat. “I wouldn’t know. He didn’t stick around long enough.”
Liz sits up straighter. “Excuse me?”
I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Nate showed up.”
Her mouth drops open, then slowly curves into a grin. “Hold on. The Nate? Childhood-crush Nate?”
“Yes. But this stays between us. I signed an NDA. You can’t breathe a word.”
Her eyes widen with delight. “Oh, this is already my favorite secret. Spill everything.”
I cover my face with a pillow. “It was a disaster.”
Liz yanks the pillow away. “Start over. I’m not following.”
The story tumbles out—how I’m treating Nate Russo professionally, how he arrived with a girl and then went full lunatic mode on Daniel.
“He humiliated me,” I finish. “Scared Daniel off just as I was explaining what my issue is.”
Liz bursts into laughter. “Oh my God, I love this. Nate made an escort—the one guy who’s literally paid not to be rattled—walk out? Babe, that’s power. Pure, primal, caveman power.”
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s hilarious. And here’s my clinical diagnosis: only a man completely gone for a woman pulls a stunt that reckless.” She points a popcorn kernel at me. “That wasn’t a red flag; that was your name in LEDs. And you’re spiraling because part of you enjoyed it.”
“I didn’t.” Weak.
She smirks. “Your pupils disagree. I’m literally trained to notice.
He isn’t just any guy; he’s the one you’ve had on your mental lock screen since twelve.
He knows your wiring. He could give you everything you’ve been too careful to want.
” She tilts her head. “And from the sound of it, he’s into you.
Bad. So call him. Or text him a calendar invite titled ‘Terrible Decisions, my place, eight p.m.’”
I sink deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket over my head. “Watch your movie, woman.”
But even as I hide, her words echo in my head. Because the terrifying truth is that Nate Russo didn’t just burn himself into my skin last night—he reminded me how much I pined for him. And now I don’t know if I can go back to being the woman who settles for numbness when he’s offering me fire.