Words We Didn't Say (What Went Wrong #1)

Prologue

Eden

Six months ago, when the first word was “Hey.”

“My dead grandma can run faster than you!” Andie shouted over her shoulder.

Maybe that was Andie.

I squinted into the morning sun. Tourists shuffled along the boarded path, gawping at the blue sky, the patchwork of cotton ball clouds, the cliffs, the beach, too busy taking photos to get out of my way. I dodged one tourist. Another. I could barely keep track of the blur of red tank top and loose grey sweats disappearing ahead of me.

No way had I fallen that far behind. The smudge on the horizon wasn’t my best friend. That could’ve been anyone.

“Come on, Ed!” she called back. “Move your arse!”

Or not.

Gasping, I staggered another four steps before admitting defeat. My hand flailed for the railing, and when my fingertips brushed the edge, you can bet your booty I latched on for dear life. That bit of metal was the only thing stopping my exhausted body from tumbling off the trail and plunging into the ocean below.

“I just—” I hunched over, gulping in breaths, my palm pressed over a heart thumping overtime. “I just need—”

What I needed was to travel back in time and leave my adorable pink high-tops tucked safely away in my wardrobe where they belonged.

I should’ve ignored the fun run poster on the noticeboard outside the coffee shop. I never should’ve listened to my personal trainer. All the times that overstuffed beefcake had told me I was “killin’ it, babe”—lies! And so what if the fun run was for a good cause? I didn’t have to be one of Sydney’s biggest fundraisers fighting youth homelessness. I was . But I didn’t have to be.

I slumped against the railing.

Now, I was just lying to myself. I had to be the best. Exceptional . My childhood scarred every twist of my DNA. If years of therapy and skimming the occasional self-help book had taught me anything, it was that I was in a never-ending race to win the approval of a father who’d never wanted me. Not when he’d yanked my tiny hand off my mother’s cold, wooden casket. Not when I’d threatened to run away at fifteen or when I’d made good on my promise the following year. Not even now, when I was someone .

My grip tightened around the railing.

Should I let that man’s failings tear down the confidence I’d clawed together despite him?

No. Hell no.

I took a deep breath and pushed away from the edge. I managed one step…and then…another. That was enough. Sometimes, that was how life happened—wobbly baby steps, walking, running, and finally, soaring.

Who stopped Eden Phillips? No one.

Andie loomed around the bend. She was a storm cloud blotting the picture-perfect view. She rarely smiled—including when she saw me hobbling closer—but her tomboy aesthetic suited grim. The full sleeve of intricate black floral tattoos on her arm was the closest she got to ‘cute.’

“Thank you for gracing me with your presence, your majesty,” she said.

My reply was a glare.

“I thought you’d been training for this fun run?” She cocked her head, one eyebrow up. “What exactly do you do at the gym? Clearly, you’re not logging many hours on the treadmill.”

“My time at the gym is better spent looking adorable and scouting the weights room for eligible bachelors to corrupt. We don’t all need to waste our mornings bench pressing a bus like you do, you know.”

Andie smirked.

“That wasn’t a compliment,” I said.

“Sure sounded like one. So? You’ve farted around long enough to get your breath back. Ready to go?”

“No.” I flopped against the railing beside her. “I’d prefer to sit my little cutie booty at a café and order a fresh macchiato and a bacon roll.” I pouted. “Why didn’t you talk me out of this stupid scheme?”

Andie’s eyebrow was up again. “When have I ever managed to talk you out of anything?”

“What about those curtain bangs and, um, my goth phase or the, um…” I huffed out a breath. Alright, Andie had a point. No one could stop me once I’d set my mind to something. “I’ve learned my lesson this time, okay? No more scheming. I’m done.” When Andie’s frown deepened, I doubled down. “I swear.”

But even as the promise tumbled out of my mouth, my mind shifted into gear, speeding full throttle towards a brilliant new plan.

Supporting the fun run didn’t have to end with me scrubbing sweat off my face or sniffing my armpits to make sure I’d rolled on enough mineral deodorant. Where did I excel? Talking. People . Instead of charging ahead, I could slip to the back, motivate the stragglers, and cheer everyone on. I’d let others shine—for once.

I twittered a wicked laugh.

“That’s gotta be an all-time record,” Andie said.

I shot her an innocent look. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh. Sure thing, troublemaker.” She nudged her shoulder into mine. “Dig deep, finish the run, and we’ll get you a bacon roll. The end is just around the corner, up those stairs—”

I groaned. “More stairs?”

“There’s like…two…”

My posture perked up from slumped over to standing tall. “Just two?”

“Or, you know…” Andie lifted a shoulder. “Twenty.”

My eyes narrowed. “Twenty.”

“Maybe forty. Hardly any.” She waved away my impending heart attack like it was nothing. “Come on.”

“I want two bacon rolls out of this,” I grumbled.

Andie started jogging down the boarded trail.

And I lagged behind.

Again.

“Come on, loser!” she called.

And I was struggling along just fine—slow but steady—dodging the barbs Andie tossed back at me on the sea breeze until a man pushing an empty stroller passed me, a toddler wailing on his hip.

My footsteps slowed.

It was just some dude. Some dad. But the sight of that man’s strong arms around his child was a crowbar that wedged in the crack in my chest, prying it open, the morning sun threatening to wake up the secret sleeping deep inside me.

The dream of a family.

The impossible.

I’d skated past the dreaded 3-0 without a breakdown. Some people stressed about missing milestones—a husband, kids, settling down—and I was living my best life, wasn’t I? As thirty-two hurtled closer, everyone still believed the only thing I craved was collecting more designer shoes to stuff in my closet. They had no idea. I ached for a family of my own more than anything in the world.

I pressed a hand to my chest to stop the feeling from spreading. Too late. The thread of loneliness around my heart twisted until it knotted tight. My chest heaved, but no air got in my lungs.

I…can’t…

Defeated, I flopped on the bottom step, my head falling between my knees. The dribble down my cheeks wasn’t tears. The salty sting was sweat. I never cried.

“Hey.” A man. Footsteps padded closer. “Um, are you…okay?”

Just peachy.

Would the humiliation ever end? I quickly dashed my palm over my eyes and craned my neck, ready to shoo my good Samaritan on his way so I could crumble in peace.

I blinked.

Oh no.

The man crouched in front of me.

Yeah, not just any man.

The man.

His mouth flattened to the same serious line he always wore at the coffee shop, and his dark brows furrowed like he was examining—judging — every tiny detail about me from behind his black-rimmed glasses. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Not him. Anyone but him.

Maybe I was delirious. Maybe on death’s doorstep, you hallucinated the suit you’d been seducing with flirty smiles for the last month. I cracked one eye open. No suit today. His workout gear seemed strangely casual after only seeing him in fine tailoring, and his dark hair flopped adorably over his forehead instead of being slicked back, but—

I gulped.

It was him.

The God of Nerds.

This isn’t happening.

Our first official meeting wasn’t supposed to happen when I sat defeated at the bottom of some stairs in Clovelly, drowning in sweat and the bitter memories of childhood. I’d schemed up a plan to be coy for another week or two before sinking my claws in him for one night we’d never forget. You had to be patient with a man like him. He was shy. Every time I’d ducked my head in a calculated, demure smile, his cheeks had burned the sweetest shade of pink. Only sometimes had he been brave enough to smile back.

“I can find help,” he said, his eyes travelling up the stairs. “Or maybe I could wait with you until your friend comes— oh .”

Sneakers pounded down the steps two at a time. Frantic, I shooed Andie away. She rolled her eyes and mimed a phone with her hand.

“Call me,” she mouthed before disappearing.

This wasn’t her first rodeo.

I turned my attention back to my good Samaritan. Oblivious to the commotion, he was back on his feet, his eyes on their new home examining his running shoes.

“I appreciate you stopping to help.” I waited for him to lift his gaze before flashing my cutest smile. “Thanks, um—” I gestured to him to share his name.

He stared at me blankly. A beat of silence. His eyes grew wide. “I’m, um…” He braced his hands on his hips and gulped down a breath. “Yeah, you know, I’m…Zach.”

This man was adorable— awkward, but adorable. “You sure?” I grinned.

He nodded, a cautious smile spreading across his face.

“Well, thank you, Zach. I’m—”

“Eden.” My name whooshed out of him like he couldn’t believe he was saying it out loud. “Long macchiato with an extra dollop.” His brows shot over the top of his glasses. “I—I’m not a weirdo o-or anything. I’ve seen you at Brew HaHa a few times.”

A few, huh? Smooth. “And you noticed me all the way out here?”

“Yeah, I noticed your—” Zach’s guilty eyes darted in the direction of my backside and then everywhere—anywhere—else. “Um—” He coughed into his fist.

“Sir!” I faked a scandalised gasp. “Have you been peeking at my booty?”

His cheeks flushed a brighter pink than my high-tops. “Well…”

Oh, he’d been peeking, alright, and I loved it. “Sir!”

“In my defence”—he bit back a shy smile—“you have a very nice booty.” He chuckled. My strait-laced companion had probably never said that word before in his life. “Can I help you up?”

Out shot his big hand. His palm swallowed mine when I curled my fingers around his, and he tugged me up, pulling a little too hard, my chin bumping against his shoulder.

“S-Sorry,” he whispered.

I fought the urge to burrow my nose into his neck. How did he smell so clean? Cologne and just…luxe. “That’s okay.” Why did I whisper back?

“So, um…” Zach puffed out a nervous breath. “Now we’ve officially met… If you’re not busy later this week, there’s this restaurant… Montecito.”

Spanish food. He was talking my love language. “Sir, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Attempting to. You’ll be shocked to discover I don’t usually approach unsuspecting women for dinner dates.”

“What about peeking at their booties?”

“Also exclusively a you thing.” He grinned. “So… Dinner?”

“Sounds fun.”

“How about tonight?”

“Tonight?”

Zach rubbed the dark stubble on his jaw. “You’re right. We shouldn’t wait that long.” His grin was back. “I hear Montecito also does a great lunch special.”

I laughed and bumped my shoulder against his. I’d misjudged this shy Casanova. I should’ve pounced sooner. “Sir, I accept. There’s just one thing I need to do first.”

I waved for him to keep walking.

Cautious, Zach’s brows furrowed, but off he went.

I nibbled my lip, enjoying the view of his powerful stride from two steps behind. He was a fine example of a man. Slimmer than some. Definitely no beefcake. But he had the perfect triangle of broad shoulders cutting to narrow hips, and damn, what a sexy li’l butt.

He’d been worth the wait.

A confused look turned over Zach’s shoulder when I didn’t follow. “E-Eden?”

I grinned. “Now, we’re even.”