CHAPTER NINE
KADE
I stare at the little table she’s set up, the fake flickering candles, plates of picky bits, an effort she clearly hasn’t had the strength for in weeks. The moment she sees me, Eden stiffens slightly, then forces a smile as she pours wine into her glass.
“Shit,” she laughs softly, “you weren’t meant to come up here yet.”
“I needed some air,” I mutter, glancing out over the city instead of at her hollowed cheeks and tired eyes.
“Well, surprise,” she says with a shrug, trying to sound light.
“What’s this for?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but irritation slips through. She’s been blowing hot and cold for weeks. I never know which version of her I’m going to get anymore.
“I thought we could eat together,” she says quietly.
I look at her properly then––the sharpness of her collarbones, the way her clothes hang on her differently now. She’s lost so much weight she’s becoming a stranger in front of me.
“And you’re going to actually eat?” I ask, raising a brow.
She sits and gestures awkwardly at the table. “I got some of your favourites. Olives, salami.”
I step closer and grab the cold beer waiting for me. “Go on then,” I murmur, “eat.”
She reaches for a piece of cheese, the smallest thing on her plate, and places it in her mouth like she’s proving something monumental. When she looks up and gives me a shaky little smile, my chest tightens.
I sit. “I ate already,” I say bluntly. “Maggie made the steak pie.”
“Oh.” Her gaze drops to the spread she prepared, shoulders curling inward.
“I guess I can manage a bit more,” I add, guilt pricking. “I shouldn’t have—”
“No, it’s fine.” She gets up quickly, stacking plates, flustered. “I should’ve checked. I should’ve—”
I catch her hands mid-motion. “Eden. Stop.” I stand and pull her gently toward me, her small, brittle frame folding into my chest. “It was a nice idea,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
Her shoulders begin to shake. And then she’s crying. Again. My heart twists painfully. I lift her chin with two fingers, brushing my thumbs across her tear-streaked cheeks.“Talk to me, Queenie,” I whisper. “Whatever this is, it’s eating you alive. You can tell me anything.”
I kiss the tip of her nose gently, hoping it’ll calm her.
“I love you so much,” she whispers, voice trembling. “So much.”
“I love you too.”
Then she reaches for me suddenly, her arms circling around my neck, and her mouth on mine, kissing me with a desperation that knocks the air from my lungs. Her fingers drag through my hair like she’s holding on for dear life.
But all I feel is dread.
I pull back, frowning. “No. We’re not doing this again.”
“I want to,” she insists, nodding quickly, almost frantically. “I want to this time.”
“You said you wanted to last time,” I snap, my voice cracking. “And then you spent the night on the bathroom floor sobbing your heart out, while I sat outside the door feeling like the biggest arsehole alive.”
“Please,” she whispers.
I shake my head, fear and confusion swirling. “Eden, I don’t know what’s happening to you. But I’m not going through that again.”
“I just want us to get back to where we were. I want this.” She throws herself at me again, and I let her, holding her by the waist warily.
She rubs my erection through my jeans, eventually loosening my belt and freeing me.
She turns away, lifting her dress. I frown.
This doesn’t feel good. “Eden––” I begin.
She bends over the roof edge and looks back at me over her shoulder “I want to,” she repeats. “Please, Kade.”
EDEN
Fern was right. I need to get us back on track. I need to make things normal again. The dinner, this moment—every bit of it is me trying to claw my way back to the life I had before everything fell apart.
I stare out over the city from the rooftop The tiny people rushing below, all of them going somewhere, belonging somewhere. People with families waiting… with homes that don’t feel broken.
Kade’s hands tighten gently at my waist, grounding me.
“Are you—” he starts for the third time.
I roll my eyes, forcing irritation to hide the terror lodged in my throat. “I’m sure,” I snap. “Just, please stop asking and let’s do this.”
His brows pull together, but he nods, stepping closer. I brace myself, digging my nails into the rough brick wall, focusing on the sting in my fingertips instead of the panic clawing up my chest.
The contact is immediate and it’s wrong. My whole body flinches. A small cry escapes before I can swallow it down.
Kade freezes. “Queenie—hey—are you okay?”
I nod too quickly. “Yeah. Yes. Keep going.”
He hesitates, moving slowly, cautiously, watching me like I’m made of glass. He’s waiting for me to fall apart again, bracing for it.
I force myself to breathe through it. To stay present. To keep from slipping into the dark place where everything still hurts.
I make the right noises. Soft sounds, the ones I know he expects, the ones that reassure him.
Something inside me twists painfully. I’m performing for my own boyfriend.
But it works. It lets him relax. Lets him believe this is okay, that we’re okay.
He chases the moment, but I know him. He won’t let himself finish unless he thinks I’m there too. So I draw in a shaky breath and let out a sound I don’t feel, forcing my body to tense as if something real has hit me.
It’s enough.
His relief rushes out in a harsh exhale as he stills, burying his face against my shoulder as he shudders.
I keep my forehead pressed to my arm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, breathing through the ache in my chest. Because nothing has changed.
Nothing feels better. I take a deep breath, straighten my dress, and turn to face him.
My hands are shaking, so I hide them behind my back and force a smile.
“Will you sleep in our bed tonight?” I ask quietly.
Kade finishes tucking himself away, brows pulling together before he lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Maybe.”
It isn’t the answer I want, but it’s better than no. I step closer and kiss him. He hesitates at first—just a flicker—but he still kisses me back, his lips soft but guarded.
“I love you,” I whisper, needing him to hear it.
“I love you too, Eden.” His gaze drifts to the little rooftop table, then to the empty bottle of wine beside it. “Did you drink that whole bottle?”
I laugh, light and fake and awful. “I must’ve. I was so busy setting everything up, I didn’t really keep track.”
“So you’re drunk?” His voice isn’t accusing—it’s wounded, and that makes everything worse.
My mouth opens, but nothing sensible comes out. I stumble over my own lie. “I wouldn’t say drunk. Maybe tipsy? A bit?”
His jaw tightens. “So that’s what this was?” he mutters. “You had to get shit-faced just to touch me?”
“Ka—”
But he shakes his head sharply, eyes burning with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. “Unbelievable.” He turns and stomps away, the sound of his boots fading across the rooftop.
I stand there, breath catching in my throat. The candles flicker like they’re mocking me. And the night I’d planned so carefully in a desperate attempt to patch us back together, collapses in front of me like everything else.
I groan, pressing my hands to my face.
Well. That didn’t go well at all.
KADE
“You?” I hiss, turning on him. Liam just smiles like this is a fucking joke. “Jimmy didn’t say it was you.”
“Well,” he drawls, shrugging, “did you ask?”
“I wanted a professional to follow her,” I snap. “Not you.”
He rolls his eyes and slides onto the bar stool beside me like he owns the place. “I am good at what I do.”
I nod to the barman for another double. I need it. It’s been days since I last properly saw my ol’ lady. Days of silence, nights on the office couch, hours of walking the floor wondering what the hell she’s hiding from me.
“Do you want the information I have or not?” Liam asks, smug as hell.
“Go on,” I mutter, downing half the whiskey.
He places a small packet on the bar. Then a crumpled receipt. “Found this in her bag.”
My stomach twists. “You went through her bag?” I snarl. “How the fuck did you manage that?”
“I told you,” he shrugs. “I’m good.”
I stare at the packet. An empty blister strip. Then the receipt. Dated a few weeks back. A day after her birthday.
The name of the pill punches me right in the chest.
“It’s the morning after pill,” Liam confirms casually. “I googled it.”
I crush the receipt into my fist, knuckles white. “Anything else?” My voice is ice.
“Not really. She goes to work, comes home. Rinse and repeat.” He yawns. “Doesn’t meet anyone. Sometimes, one of her little mates brings her lunch, but she never eats it. Waits for them to leave, and chucks it straight in the bin.”
I grit my teeth. Hard.
“Okay,” I breathe, placing an envelope of cash on the bar between us. “Keep following her.”
He smirks, dragging it toward himself.
“She’s got a night out this weekend,” I add. “Her friend’s surprising her. First time she’s gone anywhere since her birthday. If she talks to anyone—anyone—I want to know. The second it happens.”
Because the last time she went out, everything fell apart. And if she’s cheating? She’ll try to see him again.