Chapter 26 Trust the Nudge （Eden）
TRUST THE NUDGE (EDEN)
It’s nearly noon by the time I stumble into my apartment, still a little unsteady.
Nate kept me in bed until he’d coaxed two more orgasms out of me, pinning me there with his body and taking me apart while I could barely catch enough breath to beg.
Only then did he haul me into the shower, pressing me to the tile and making me come on his fingers again while the water poured over us.
After that, caretaker mode. Groceries landed at eight sharp.
He parked me on a stool in his T-shirt and cooked, sliding over eggs and a protein shake.
“To refuel,” he said. “My girl doesn’t leave on an empty stomach.
” When I tried to slip away to get dressed, he brushed my hair back and ordered, “Finish.”
Only once I was full and wrung out did he finally call me an Uber. I spent the whole ride floating, thighs aching, staring out the window, wondering what had just happened.
My body is still humming, my cheeks hurt from grinning, and I barely get the door shut before I squeal, “Liz!”
She bolts upright on the couch, coffee sloshing. “Holy shit, girl, what happened?”
I bounce onto the cushions beside her, grabbing her hands in mine. “I did it. Liz, I finally—” I break into a ridiculous little seated dance, hips wiggling, hair a mess. “—got absolutely wrecked.”
Her eyes go wide, then understanding dawns, and she shrieks so loud the neighbors probably hear. “Oh my God! Was it—Tell me it was that big beautiful goalie crush of yours?”
“It was him,” I blurt, still breathless, still glowing. “And it was…” I flop back against the cushions, throwing an arm over my eyes. “…fucking mind-blowing.”
Liz pounces, practically climbing over me. “Details. Immediately. Every. Filthy. Detail.”
“I came,” I squeal. “Like, actually came. On his cock. Vaginal orgasms, Liz. More than once. I didn’t even know my body could—”
Liz screams into a pillow before I can finish, then pops up, hair wild. “Girl, shut up. No way. You got the unicorn orgasm on the first night?”
I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe. “He just…knew what to do, where to touch, how to—”
She cuts me off, eyes blazing. “You do not walk away from a man who delivers that. Ever.”
“You sound like you’re about to propose on my behalf.”
“I would,” she says, dead serious. “A hockey player who knows his way around a clit? He’s not just a keeper. He’s the Stanley Cup of men.”
I groan and throw a pillow at her, but the grin won’t leave my face. I don’t even want it to. For the first time in forever, I feel…awake.
Liz isn’t done. Her eyes gleam. “Okay, but tell me, was he bossy? Please say he was bossy.”
My stomach flips at the memory of Nate’s hand clamped around my wrists, his voice rough in my ear.
The look on my face must give me away because Liz yelps and whacks me with a pillow.
“Oh my God, he was! You’re living my fantasy.
Does he have a friend? Please tell me he has a friend.
Or, like, ten of them, so I can take my pick? ”
I throw the pillow back at her. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re smiling,” she points out, triumphant.
She’s right. I am. I can’t stop. Every nerve in my body still hums from him. From his weight pinning me down, his mouth luring sounds out of me I didn’t know I could make. I feel different. A part of me that’s been dormant for years has finally woken up, and I’m very happy to meet her.
Liz takes a sip of her coffee, eyeing me. “So what happens now?”
That question lodges in my chest. What now?
Because the high is intoxicating, but underneath it is the reminder that this is all new. He’s my brother’s best friend. He’s everything I shouldn’t want. And yet, last night, I didn’t just want. I leaped.
Maybe that’s why, when Liz finally wanders off to her room muttering about TikTok captions, I start marching across the living room. My body is still buzzing, and my brain won’t sit still.
If I can be brave enough to let Nate Russo ruin me in the best possible way, I can be brave enough to take charge of the rest of my life.
I grab my phone before I can talk myself out of it.
The realtor answers on the third ring, brisk and businesslike.
“Hi, this is Eden Carver,” I say, pacing the kitchen. “I toured the retail space on York Avenue a few weeks ago. Has it been leased yet?”
A pause. “It’s still available.”
My knees nearly buckle. I grip the counter. “That’s…great.”
“We’ve had interest, but nothing signed. Do you want to move forward?”
My heart slams. Do I? Sunlight through the front windows.
The floor plan I already sketched in my mind as two treatment rooms, a small gym, and a front desk.
I’ve got savings for paint and equipment.
With the Defenders money, I can cover first month and two months’ security, sign a good-guy guaranty, and have keys by Friday.
It’s not reckless. It’s trusting the nudge.
Not every detail is solved. But that’s the point. Leap first; let the pieces catch up. It’s me saying yes out loud.
I close my eyes, breathe, listen. It feels right.
“Yes,” I hear myself say. “If we can come to an agreement on the number.”
The conversation turns to terms. Dollars. I point out the space has been vacant for months, and when he pushes high, I push back. My voice trembles, but I hold the line. We settle on a lower figure with an upfront payment.
By the time we hang up, I’m shaky, my whole body humming. But I’m exhilarated.
I’m doing it.
I’m building my life.
My phone buzzes the second I set it down.
Nate
Just finished skate. Thinking about you.
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
Nate
How’s my girl feeling? Still wrecked?
I bite my lip, typing then deleting three different responses before settling on: Busy.
Three dots appear instantly.
Nate
Good. Stay busy. I like knowing I left you useless for anything else.
I let out a helpless laugh, dropping my forehead into my hands. He’s wonderful. Infuriating. Addictive.
Nate
Call me later. Or don’t. I’ll come find you.
My pulse kicks into overdrive. I shove the phone away before I combust.
The realtor emails me the lease that evening. I open it on my laptop, the digital pen hovering over the signature line.
Fear coils in my stomach. What if I fail? What if no one comes? What if this dream swallows me whole?
But then I think of last night. Of Nate’s voice in my ear, low and certain: “You’re safe with me.”
If I can trust that, I can trust myself.
I click Sign.
The confirmation pings.
I did it.
I stagger back from the table, half dizzy, half elated. My entire future just shifted, and it’s terrifying and thrilling all at once.
Liz finds me barefoot, hair a mess, a lunatic grin splitting my face.
“You okay?” she asks, squinting at me.
“I just signed the lease on the York Avenue space.”
She drops her mug onto the counter with a gasp. “Oh my God. Eden Carver, PT clinic owner. Look at you.”
Her eyes flick to the phone buzzing on the table. It’s Nate’s name that’s lighting up the screen, and she smirks. “New business, hot hockey player blowing up your phone… You’re officially unstoppable.”
I laugh, but the sound catches in my chest. Because she’s wrong. I don’t feel unstoppable.
It feel as if I’m standing on the edge of something huge, with the ground falling away beneath me.