CHAPTER 5
EDEN
A tapping sound, one that is both foreign and achingly familiar, has me sitting straight up in bed. I’m positive my exhaustion is playing tricks on me because there is no way I just heard what I thought I did. I’m instantly transported back to a time when Fletcher would sneak over to my family’s ranch and would tap on my window.
I shake my head and try to convince myself that I’m just hearing things. You know, wishful thinking or something.
It’s really not my fault. Seeing Fletcher today and dumping far too much at his feet has made me feel numb since it happened. It was difficult as hell to stay present with Macklin, but he relies on me to be the best mom I can be.
There are times when I’m sure I’m failing at the whole thing. But I keep showing up. How I’m doing as a mom is something I’m constantly worried about. I’m sure I’ve screwed up more than a few times, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that I’ll keep screwing up.
When Macklin was less than a year old, I asked my mom how she dealt with the constant fear and worry. I could hear the smile in her voice, because of course we weren’t face to face due to my stubbornness, “You just keep moving and trying.”
I whined, holding the word out, “Mom.”
She chuckled, her words filled with amusement, “I’m serious, Eden. There is no manual and there is only trial and error when it comes to most things and parenting. What works one day might not the next. It’s hard work, but I do know one thing.”
I whispered, feeling the weight of the responsibility of Macklin’s little life on my shoulders, “What?”
“Bad moms don’t worry about whether they’re screwing their kids up or not. They only care about themselves. You are not a bad mom, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get things wrong. That’s life.”
Even though I didn’t feel very reassured at the time, I’ve often thought back to that conversation and found solace in it. Now that I’m back home, I feel better about the whole thing. I should have come back to Wintervale the moment David abandoned us.
I had to force myself to be present with Macklin the rest of the day, which made me feel like shit because he deserves more than my mind being filled with visions of Fletcher. After getting him to bed, I tried to get some work done which just ended up looking like shit. Face planting into bed felt like the only thing left to do. I was resigned to close my eyes and will the crappy day away. I hoped things would look better in the morning.
And now I’m being woken up by phantom sounds right out of my past.
Just when I’m about to lay back down and snuggle into my bed, the tapping starts again and this time I’m sure it’s not my mind playing tricks on me. I stand up and hurry over to the window, a familiar feeling of anticipation filling me. It’s like I’m 16 again and afraid my parents are going to hear Fletcher at my window.
When I pull back the curtains, the soft light from the moon illuminates the man outside just enough to confirm that it is, in fact, Fletcher. My heart and mind are racing.
I didn’t think I’d see him so soon after our awkward as hell afternoon. I definitely didn’t think he’d show up at my window tonight. Not after the way he walked away from me.
My window makes a soft squeaking noise as I pull it open and wince. I glance over my shoulder, expecting my parents to bust into my room. It’s a holdover fear, the same one I had every time Fletcher would tap on my window in high school.
“I’m coming in, Eden,” Fletcher’s voice is gruff, and I take a step back at his implied directive.
Watching him pull himself up and into my room probably shouldn’t be as much of a turn on as it is, but his arms bulge, even though he’s wearing a coat. Poor coat didn’t know its seams would be threatened tonight. His boots sound loud in the quiet of the room when they hit the floor before Fletcher stands to his full height.
His eyes are intense as he glances around the room. Nothing has changed since I was in high school. It felt kind of like stepping into a time capsule when I first arrived here. I figured I’d change things up over time and one thing I was not expecting was Fletcher to be in this room again.
“It’s a little weird, right?” I break the silence between us and gesture around the room.
“Brings back some damn good memories,” his voice is thick, and I have to look away from him.
Awkwardness wraps around me as I fidget with my fingers and then tuck my hands behind my back and then put one on my hip. What the hell do you do with your hands when your ex is standing in your childhood bedroom after so long?
I shift from one foot to the other as Fletcher takes a step closer to me. Staring at the floor seems like a great fucking idea right now. As curious as I am to watch Fletcher, to soak him in after all this time, I can’t seem to look at him.
“Shooting Star,” he murmurs and pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt my head up. His eyes are so dark as he stares down at me, and I have to swallow hard because there are so many emotions there.
Hearing his nickname for me, the one that always made me feel seen and cherished, after all this time causes something to crack deep in my soul while something else heals. I never thought I’d hear him call me that again. There were so many nights, so many moments, when I wished I could hear him call me that sweet name just one more time.
Those wishes never came true.
But here he is now. In my room and looking at me in a way that has tears pooling in my eyes. I blink a few times because I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of him.
“I’m sorry I just walked away from you this afternoon. I shouldn’t have, but I was thrown for a loop at seeing you. I had no idea you were back in town, and I wasn’t prepared,” his voice is full of sincerity.
I nod as much as I can with the way he’s holding my chin. “I wasn’t prepared to see you either,” I admit softly. The words tumble from my lips without wanting them to, “I never let my parents tell me about you. I was sure it would hurt too much, but now I have so many questions.”
He swallows hard and nods slowly. “What do you want to know?”
So many questions swirl through my head. All the questions I’ve been torturing myself with for years. I’m not even sure where to start.
“Are you happy?”
Even with everything else I want to know, somehow, it’s the most important question of all. I’ve hoped so many times over the years for Fletcher’s happiness. That he wasn’t burdened by the responsibility of Limitless. That he was able to find some solace in the life he was living.
Fletcher’s mouth turns down in a frown as his eyes search mine.
“I’m not sure how to answer your question, Eden,” he mumbles and my heart sinks.
Did we give each other up, do what we thought was right at the time, and not have much to show for it other than memories that slice like the sharpest blades and a whole ton of regret?
Fletcher clears his throat and releases my chin. The loss of his touch, of his warmth, has the ever-present ache in my chest deepening in a way that takes my breath away. I want him to touch me again; I crave it.
“Limitless is thriving,” he begins, trying to answer my question. “I,” he shifts from one foot to the other, something he always did when he was nervous, “tried to move on, you know?” I nod even though my mouth is dry, and my throat is closing up because I desperately don’t want to hear about him moving on from me. Should it still hurt after all this time? “It never worked.” He looks away, something fierce and determined in his gaze when he looks back at me. “They were never you.”
His words aren’t loud, but the way they reverberate around the room has me swaying closer to him without even realizing it. What is he saying?
“Yeah,” I nod, my voice shaky, “I can understand that.”
“Can you?” His eyes bore into mine and all I can do is nod. He deflates right before my eyes, and it makes me want to sob. “I don’t have a lot of regrets in my life, but that day is my biggest one.” He shakes his head, and I can feel the weight of his regret, it makes the air around us heavy and wraps around us. “I’ve missed you every fucking day since then, Eden,” he whispers.
I take a step closer to him without realizing it. “I’ve missed you too, Fletch, so much,” my voice cracks, the emotion clear in my voice.
Something flashes across his face, and he scowls. “I thought you’d come home so many times. But you didn’t,” his voice is filled with an angry accusation, one I understand.
“I wanted to,” I admit, the words being pulled from me by the rage bubbling under the surface of him.
“Why didn’t you?” He spits the question at me. “It took a long fucking time, but I finally let you go, finally let the hope of you coming home go.”
We stare at each other for what feels like forever. The moment feels suspended between us, stuck in time, and lost to the ethos of our shared past.
It’s not until his hands come up and he wipes my cheeks that I realize the tears I was trying to hold back are sliding down my face. His touch does something to me. It both makes me feel like I’m shrouded in darkness and lit up from the inside out.
Fletcher, the boy, was my first love. But the man in front of me? It feels like I don’t know him anymore, but at the same time our pasts are entwined, and he could never truly be a stranger to me.
There’s still something between us.
I wasn’t sure whether there would be or not, but I had no doubt I’d know the moment I came in contact with him again. Did I want there to just be our memories between us or was I hoping for more?
Now I know there is still so much more.
But what do we do about it?
“I’m sorry I didn’t come home, Fletch,” my words feel like broken glass scraping against my skin with how much they’re filled with my truth.
His eyes slide closed slowly, as if he’s being cut by the shards the same way I am.
“You have a son,” he grunts.
“I do,” I whisper.
“He’s gorgeous,” his voice is filled with pain, his face contorting in a way that makes my heart clench.
“You’re the only man I ever wanted to have kids with,” I admit and his eyes pop open. “I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve laid in bed at night wishing he were yours. You would have never left us, left him. You would have been there, loving us and soaking it all up. But that’s not what happened, and I can’t change it.” My shoulders slump. “I can’t change any of it.”
His strong arms wrap around me, and he hauls me against his chest. I know what I’ve just admitted is something I should be ashamed of, but it’s the damn truth. Why should I hide it? Why should I be ashamed of it?
Everything I just said out loud, giving voice to my deepest thoughts and feelings, is true. Fletcher would have pressed his lips against my growing belly and whispered all of his hopes and dreams against my skin. He would have held me when I was scared and worried about the kind of mother I was going to be. He would have stood by me during the sleepless nights and when I panicked at every sniffle.
He would have been my, our, rock.
But that’s not the way life played out for me and Macklin. I can wish it a million times, I can fantasize about it even more, but that doesn’t make it true.
“Eden,” he rasps as his fingers dive into my hair and tighten at the back of my head. “I wish he was mine too.”
He tilts my head up and we stare into each other’s eyes, and it feels like everything disappears.
The 13 years of time and distance.
The regrets of not being in each other’s lives.
The room around us.
The memories our past is shrouded in.
The missing and the longing.
It’s just us underneath a starlit sky out on the ranch when times were simpler, easier. When there wasn’t so much fucking pain. When there weren’t glass shard words. When we only knew the kind of love for each other that we were sure would last a lifetime.
Then Fletcher’s lips meet mine. There’s a tenderness in the first press, a tentativeness I’ve never felt in a kiss from Fletcher. But that was before.
I wrap my arms around his torso and cling to him, needing to stay right here, under the stars where no one and nothing can touch us, for as long as possible. When my lips part and I whimper, something snaps inside of him.
He deepens the kiss, and it becomes a whirlwind of passion and lost time. I give just as much as he does, and we both take from the other. As our tongues meet and dance, something clicks into place, something I long since gave up on ever feeling again.
I thought I was coming home to Wintervale, but I was wrong. I was coming home to him. It was always him.
When he pulls away and presses his forehead against mine, I can admit that I’m scared. I have no idea what this all means, but right now this moment is enough.
It’s everything.