CHAPTER 8
EDEN
From the moment I stepped off the bus, the entire walk to the apartment became a rehearsal.
My feet ached in that familiar way that meant I’d been standing too long, and my cheeks were sore from smiling too much, but I barely noticed.
I was too busy running through the words in my head.
How I’d start. How calm I’d sound. How I wouldn’t let my voice shake because he was going to understand.
Ryan, we need to talk.
No. Too cliché.
Ryan, I can’t keep doing this.
Better. Stronger.
By the time I reached the apartment complex and started up the cracked concrete steps toward our place, I’d already replayed the conversation a dozen different ways in my head.
But the music hit me before I even reached the door.
Bass pounded through the thin walls, rattling the door hard enough that the knob quivered on its own.
I slowed, dread pooling in my stomach, and stopped with my hand hovering inches from the latch.
For a moment, I simply stood there, my shoulders rigid, and my eyes drifting shut as I drew in a few deep breaths while the noise pulsed on the other side.
Please don’t let this be what I think it is.
I pushed inside, and smoke rolled over me immediately, clinging to my clothes and hair like it had been waiting. The apartment was hazy, the air heavy with weed and cheap alcohol, too many bodies crammed into a space that was barely big enough for the two of us on a good day.
Ryan was on the couch with a group of guys I didn’t recognize, a joint between his fingers, and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. When he saw me, he lurched to his feet, swaying slightly as he grinned. “Hey, babe,” he said, blinking hard. “Why’re you home already?”
Already. Had he really just said that?
I stared at him, then at the clock on the oven, its glowing numbers screaming the truth he clearly hadn’t noticed. His smile faltered as realization dawned, a brief flash of embarrassment crossing his face far too late to help him.
“It’s—” he started, then stopped. “Oh.”
Something in me snapped. “Everyone out,” I screamed, the sound tearing out of my chest. “Get out. Now.”
The room immediately went quiet except for the music, like they were all waiting to see if I meant it. Then one of them laughed under his breath and headed for the door. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as he passed me. “What a bitch.”
The word hit, but I didn’t react. I just stood there, shaking, watching them file out one by one, smoke trailing behind them, bottles clinking, laughter fading down the stairs.
When the door finally slammed shut, somehow the apartment felt smaller than ever.
The music kept playing, obnoxious and loud, and I crossed the room to turn it off with a jab of my finger.
Ryan stood there, swaying slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Eden, I didn’t know what time it was,” he said, already defensive. “They just stopped by. It wasn’t—”
I laughed, but it came out broken. “I was going to talk to you,” I said, my voice shaking with emotion. “I was actually excited to talk to you.”
He frowned. “About what?”
I looked around the wrecked living room, at the smoke-stained walls, the empty bottles, the couch that smelled like everything except home, and a tear slipped down my face. “It doesn’t matter,” I whispered.
I turned toward the bedroom, kicking off my shoes as I went, exhaustion dragging at every step. I had barely enough energy left to stand upright—and somehow I still had a full shift ahead of me at the casino.
For a fleeting second, I considered the appeal of simply collapsing where I stood and letting the universe take it from there. At least then I’d be out of my misery.
I barely made it three steps before Ryan started talking, his words tumbling out like if he said them fast enough, I’d forget what I’d just walked into.
“They’re business associates,” he said quickly, gesturing back toward the door like that explained the smoke, the mess, and the strangers.
“You were gonna be excited, Ed. I was gonna tell you. Things are finally happening. I’ve got stuff lined up. ”
Business associates.
I turned slowly and looked at him, really looked at him, at the hope flickering there, at the familiar shine in his eyes that used to mean belief and now just meant he was high.
“I was excited,” I said quietly. The calm in my voice surprised even me. “I was walking home, thinking about how to talk to you. About quitting one job. About maybe taking classes. About us finally moving forward.”
His mouth opened, then closed.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, and the words felt heavy and true, like they’d been waiting years for air.
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re just tired. You don’t mean that.”
“I need to take a nap, and then I have to get ready for my second job,” I replied, already turning away. “We’ll talk later.”
I went into the bedroom.
And stopped.
There were bodies on my bed—three of them, slick with sweat and tangled in my sheets.
Two women and a man I didn’t recognize were all naked, with their limbs wrapped around one another in a lazy, postfuck sprawl.
One woman was still straddling the man, her breasts bare and flushed, her hips rocking slowly like she hadn’t quite come down yet.
The other woman was pressed to his side with her mouth on his neck and her hand between her legs stroking herself lazily while she groaned.
The sheets were twisted around their waists, and my comforter was shoved half off the mattress, the pillow I used kicked to the floor and stained with something dark and wet.
The condom wrapper and the bottle of lube that was lying on its side on my nightstand, dripping all over the wood, really capped everything off.
The woman on top noticed me first. She froze mid-roll, and her eyes widened while her mouth formed a perfect little O of shock as she looked from me to the man still buried inside her.
For one long, endless second, no one moved.
Then she scrambled upright, yanking the sheet over her breasts like it could erase the sight of her riding a stranger on my bed. The man sat up fast, his dick bobbing and his face flushed from exertion and surprise.
“Oh my gosh,” one of them said, fumbling for clothes. “We—”
“Out,” I said numbly. “Get out. Now.”
They didn’t argue. They grabbed whatever they could—clothes, phones, dignity—and fled. The front door slammed shut, and I stood there, staring at how my bed was now a mess of twisted sheets, wet spots, and the lingering scent of people who weren’t me. So much for a nap before my shift.
Something inside me went utterly still. There wasn’t rage or heartbreak; there was just . . . nothing. A cold, perfect quiet, like the world had finally stopped screaming and my heartbeat had ceased to exist.
“Eden—” Ryan said desperately.
I turned on him, the room seeming to spin. “You let people into our bed.”
He went pale. “I didn’t—I didn’t think—”
“That’s the problem,” I said. “You don’t think.”
Ryan’s knees hit the floor hard, his body giving out before his pride did. He grabbed at my legs. “Please,” he said in a breaking, panicked voice. “I’ll change. I swear. I’ll stop. I’ll do better. Just don’t give up on me.”
I looked down at him, at the boy who’d once walked me to the bus stop, who’d promised me the world with such certainty I’d believed it without question.
“I’ve been lied to my whole life,” I said softly, “by everyone who ever told me they’d take care of me.”
He shook his head desperately. “I’m not like them.”
“I believed that,” I whispered. “Out of all of it, I believed you’d never be part of that.”
The silence between us felt fragile, stretched thin and trembling as I pulled my legs free and stepped back, pressing a hand to my chest in an attempt to steady what was breaking there. “This is it,” I said. “This is your last chance.”
His head snapped up. “I’ll do it. Whatever you want. I swear.”
“You don’t swear,” I said. “You show me.” I turned away before I could change my mind, before hope could get its stupid hooks in too deep again. “I have work,” I added quietly. “We’ll talk after. And Ryan?”
He froze.
“If this happens again,” I said, my voice steady now, “there won’t be another conversation.”
I closed the bedroom door and leaned against it for just a second, breathing through the ache, knowing even as I gave him one more chance that something fundamental had already cracked.
No matter what he did, we’d never be whole again.
I was stacking glasses behind the bar, lining them up by muscle memory more than thought, when I suddenly became aware of someone standing very close behind me. I turned quickly, my heart giving an embarrassing jolt as I swiveled around and saw my blond stranger.
Not yours, Eden. What the fuck are you talking about?
His suit jacket was gone, his shirtsleeves pushed up, and his tie was loosened like the night had taken a toll on him. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes and a weariness in the set of his shoulders . . . but it didn’t dull him. He was still unfairly, devastatingly beautiful.
Relief bloomed in my chest before I could crush it.
Relief.
Which was insane and completely inappropriate.
I straightened quickly, my fingers tightening around the glass in my hand, as if that would anchor me back to sanity.
“Hi,” he said.
Like it always did when I heard his voice, my breath stuttered, and I had to focus hard on setting the glass down before I broke it. “You can’t just do that,” I said, aiming for annoyance and landing somewhere closer to rattled. “Sneak up on people.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I’ll take that under consideration. Though, I’m fairly certain walking up in full view doesn’t qualify as sneaking.”
I didn’t really have a retort for that. I’d slept maybe an hour in the last two days, and my brain felt like it was wrapped in cotton. “Do you need something?” I asked finally.