Chapter 23 Eden
Chapter twenty-three
Eden
“Not Afraid”
The next morning felt so dim. I had woken to find a cold space where Halo had been the night before.
He was sitting by the window, and I could tell he hadn’t slept.
Something had shifted in him, and I could see it.
The man who had laughed, really laughed, when I’d teased him in bed last night?
Gone. The man who’d let his hand rest on my waist and didn’t flinch when I leaned into him?
Gone, too. This was a different version of him, one I recognized all too well.
I hated this.
I sat in the car with my forehead pressed against the window while he was inside the motel office.
I could only see his silhouette through the window, but he looked tense, and he moved his hands like he was having an animated confrontation.
When he came out, he seemed annoyed, clutching a key in his hand like a weapon.
He had that don’t talk to me look on his face again.
He motioned for me to get out of the car, and I did.
He got my bag out of the trunk and we went into a room on the far end of the parking lot.
Most of the lot was roped off, massive chunks of concrete were scattered in unusable piles.
The door was sticky, and he had to ram his hip into it to get it to open.
The room was cleaner than I expected but still held this weird smell of staleness and pine-scented cleaner.
The paint on the wall bubbled in one corner near the ceiling, but the sheets on the bed looked fresh (if not a little over bleached).
Halo checked the room three times with the methodical precision of someone who knew the shadows could have teeth. Bathroom, window locks, under the bed, behind the curtains.
I stood by the bed, clutching my bed, unsure if I should speak.
Then I realized what the problem was: there was only one bed. Of course there was, because the universe needed to make this as awkward as possible. When we entered, he eyed it like it was a trap, giving it a look of resentment.
He didn’t say anything, though. He just sat in a chair by the window like a guard dog in fight mode. His knee bounced, jittery with unspent energy, and he resumed picking at the already raw cuticle of his thumb with his index nail.
He hadn’t said much to me during the drive other than giving clipped instructions. I hadn’t felt like talking much either, not after I said goodbye to Regret and left my key for Jay. It felt like a more permanent goodbye than it was.
It was already growing dark outside again, the day totally lost.
“You really need to sleep,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I’m fine.”
“You haven’t slept in over a day.”
“I’ve gone longer.”
I stared at him. “That’s not the flex you think it is.”
I saw a flicker of something, maybe amusement, but it didn’t stick.
“So you’re just going to sit and guard all night again?”
“If I have to.”
“You don’t… isn’t this place safe? No one knows we’re here, right?”
He didn’t answer, not even a shrug.
“Do you… want me to be afraid of you?”
The question had to be asked, and it got his attention. He turned, slowly, locking his eyes onto mine. “Yes.”
“I know what you think you’re doing,” I said, voice quieter now.
“You think you can make space because that’s the smart thing to do.
Like that’s how you would protect me. You really do think I’m naive, and you’re some guy with all the answers.
You think you’re this dangerous person and I’m some soft little thing that doesn’t know what I’m getting into. ”
His lips pressed together tighter, like he was locking something in.
“I’m not afraid of you, and you can’t make me be afraid of you. I saw what you did to Parrish, I saw your face after. You hated it, you hated yourself.”
“I didn’t,” he responded, voice sharp. “I didn’t hate it. I only hate that you saw it.”
I lost my bravery and didn’t respond, breath caught in my throat. He stood up, stalking over towards me. I grew a little anxious with the way he had me fixed in his gaze, leaning over me to put his hands on the mattress, forcing me to lean back away from him to be able to see his face
“That’s the difference between me and someone you should trust, Eden. I don’t regret hurting him. I didn’t hate it. I fucking loved it. Do you understand?”
His eyes were so tired. They were bloodshot and dull. It wasn’t the type of exhaustion from lack of sleep, it was more than that. It was that type of chronic fatigue that rested in your bones: a permanent erosion of his soul.
“Yes, because he hurt me. That’s why, isn’t it?” I asked, voice so quiet that it was almost lost to the sound of the air conditioner.
He sighed, looking down at the small space between us as though he couldn’t look me in the eyes when he admitted it. “Yes.”
“You need sleep,” I insisted. I reached up and put my hand on his chest, pushing him away from me, so I had room. “Please. It may be the only opportunity you get for a while.”
He didn’t move.
I kicked off my shoes and pulled the covers back, sliding under the sheets. “There’s room.”
Minutes passed as though he was considering what I had said, then he got into the other side of the bed.
I reached behind me, grabbing his hand and resting it in the same place he had the night before.
He didn’t resist, and when I put the hand against me, I felt him spread his fingers like he was fighting the instinct to curl them around me, but he didn’t.
“Good night, Halo.”
There were several beats of silence, and I had started drifting off to sleep. I thought he had too, but then he spoke.
“I dream about you,” he whispered.
I froze, unable to respond, voice and breath both caught somewhere in my chest.
“In my head there’s always so much blood, but you…” He took a broken inhale. “You’re always clean. You always come back. Every single time.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I just put my hand over his to squeeze it gently and let my breathing be the only answer.