Chapter 2
two
. . .
Eden
I’ve never felt this steady.
Redwood Falls University is nestled in the Ottawa Valley, backs directly onto Algonquin Provincial Park, and is what I consider one of the prettiest spots on earth. The place just hits different and sings in my chest like an echo. I didn’t expect it to feel so alive, so like me.
I expected buildings, lecture halls, and people trying too hard to sell me a future they don’t fully believe.
Instead, there are trees woven into the campus, and trails leading into the forest from every building, as if the school is truly one with the wilderness.
There are outdoor classrooms and lookouts for research, studying, and yoga.
Even now in the dead of winter, students and teachers are smiling and happily working among nature.
Students sprawl on the grass of the indoor park situated in the middle of the school. It’s a wonderland of green grass, trees, flowers, rocks, and benches enclosed in glass to let in natural light.
I sit in on two classes. The second one really inspires me. The professor speaks about tracking wolf populations, the importance of their presence in our ecosystem, and the need to protect them. Every word is a call to arms. This is the kind of passion I’ve been searching for the last year.
Everyone seems so…happy and dedicated. It feels like a home away from home.
Wildlife Biology. Conservation Ecology. One day I’ll focus specifically on studying and saving sea turtles.
I say the words out loud during the tour, half expecting them to feel heavy or wrong after spending so much time trying to decide what I want to do with my life. They don’t. They fit me perfectly.
Mom cries, of course, when I tell her that this is it. I want to attend. Not tears of sadness, but joy. Her eyes fill with pride and love, making the decision so much easier. She hugs me like she’s afraid the moment may disappear if she loosens her grip.
Dad smiles, his real one. Not the polite one he uses when he doesn’t fully understand me but supports me anyway.
“This fits you,” he says. “You’ve always loved animals and science. You listen to the world differently than the rest of us. My baby girl will help save the world.”
“Oh my god, Dad…I’m only one person.”
He beams. “That’s all it takes, and I have faith.”
After the tour, we eat at a little diner just off campus.
Vinyl booths. Greasy menus. A waitress who calls everyone sweetheart and refills coffee before it’s empty.
We laugh at stupid jokes and eat way more than we should.
We talk about dorms, fieldwork, and how I can’t wait to take a trip to the ocean.
One of the courses is a month-long excursion with hands-on research opportunities.
This weekend feels like a beginning. That should scare me after taking a gap year, but all I feel is excitement.
I sit in the backseat with my shoes kicked off, feet tucked under me, forehead resting against the cool window. The late afternoon sun cuts through the trees. Gold and pink ribbons turn the road into something cinematic. A scene you can replay later and realize it matters.
I’ve always loved this area. Camping and hiking in Algonquin Park is the highlight of every summer. Now that my parents have the fancy RV, it’s even better. I like the air conditioning on a hot, sticky night. I’m getting fussy at my ripe old age of eighteen.
Mom hums quietly in the passenger seat as her fingers weave balls of yarn into something amazing. She’s always knitting something, and I can’t even create a square.
Dad drives casually, the man in charge, with one hand on the wheel and the other hovering near the now cold coffee he forgot to drink. I smirk as he picks it up, takes a sip, and gags.
“Gross,” he says.
“Harold, it won’t magically turn hot again,” Mom teases playfully.
I love their relationship. They’ve been together for twenty years now and are still as much in love today as they were when they first got married. It gives me hope that I’ll one day find the person who completes me the same way.
The car smells like fresh air and pine from the trail we walked this morning, layered with the faint grape of the air freshener.
Dad insists on buying one at every other gas station because ‘you just can’t find these at home’.
We’re officially good if the apocalypse comes and we need to live in a silo without a shower.
We will all smell like sweaty grapes. Mmmm.
I’m scrolling through photos on my phone.
The campus sign. The river cutting through the trees.
A picture Mom took when Dad decided to sit in on an outdoor class.
He looks ridiculous in his business suit and long coat with the collar pulled up.
I’m reminded of the old Dick Tracy movies he loves to watch.
He sat cross-legged with the other students around the outdoor fireplace and became completely immersed in the discussion.
My dad has always taken an interest in the things I enjoy.
I was an ice skater for four months, and the whole time he was the dad at the rink with cute outfits over his arm, helping everyone lace up their skates, and wiping away tears when I fell.
When I told him that I wanted to be a famous rockstar, he bought me a guitar and joined me for lessons.
Eventually the shine faded for me, but he kept playing and is now incredible.
He’s my biggest fan and my hero.
I’m so busy imagining myself on campus, attending classes, and meeting hot guys that nothing else exists. I don’t notice the sky darkening. I don’t notice the twisty road or the snow falling.
“It’s getting pretty nasty. Should we turn around,” Mom asks, and I look up for the first time in an hour.
It’s dark, but I’m blinded by the bright headlights reflecting off the blanket of snow. I can barely see the road or the red taillights of the car in front of us. When the heck did we arrive at the North Pole?
“There is nowhere to turn around,” Dad says.
“As soon as there is, let’s turn off. I…I don’t have a good feeling.” Mom’s voice is full of concern.
Mom is the worrier. She frets about everything and is famous for saying, “I knew this was going to happen. I can feel it coming.” I’m pretty sure she thinks that she is part psychic or something. It kinda matches her hippie outlook on everything. I definitely got my love of nature from her.
The car slips a little, and I gasp. Mom grabs the holy shit handle attached to the roof and presses herself back into the seat.
“We need to get off this road. I don’t like this,” Mom says.
I lean forward and grab her shoulder. “Mom, it’s going to be okay.”
She pats my hand.
“Oh shit,” Dad exclaims, slamming on the brakes, but we just keep moving. My phone flies out of my hand and hits the door.
“Mom,” I cry out as my eyes snap open.
I gasp hard, and it feels like I’m being stabbed in my side. Pain blossoms across my chest, and I pull my arms in to protect myself.
“Stop—don’t move.”
Hands press gently against my shoulders. The ceiling above me swims, white, fluorescent, and all wrong. The air smells like lemon and plastic, not pine and sunlight.
I’m not in the car. The scent of smoke and blood attacks my senses. I blink, my eyes darting around the room. I’m in a hospital bed.
Terror surges through me, and I try to sit up again. Pain radiates through my ribs and arm like lightning branching through bone.
“Oh God—” I choke.
“Stop trying to move, please.” I blink and see his face…the guy from the crash…Felix. “You’re okay,” he says, his voice calming. “You’re safe. You were in an accident, and now we are at the hospital. Just breathe for me.”
The words crash into me in pieces that don’t fit together, like a puzzle just dumped out of the box. No, this can’t be real. That was a nightmare. I turn my head too fast, and the room spins. Nausea rolls through me as a monitor beside the bed beeps faster.
“Easy,” he says again, his voice soothing. “You just got out of surgery, and you have a mild concussion. Sudden movements are going to make you dizzy and nauseous.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ground myself, but all I can see are my parents slumped forward in their seats.
My lip quivers as the accident slowly takes shape, and I remember what happened.
“Where are they? Where are my parents?”
A hand closes around mine. Felix is warm and solid, and I take a shuddering breath as I fight to calm my mind. My lashes flutter open, slower this time.
“I’m sorry, Eden. I don’t know. No one will tell me anything about them.”
Felix sits beside me on the bed, his shoulders slumped like he hasn’t slept. Dark circles line his stunning blue eyes. He looks different somehow. A normal guy, and less like the shadow man who smashed my window and pulled me to safety.
He’s incredibly good-looking. Shock white hair that’s mussed like he has been running his hands through it, and is that a lip piercing?
I shouldn’t even be thinking about that right now, but there is no denying it either.
I can still see, which I guess I’m grateful for, but I don’t know how to process anything at this point. My thoughts are a jumbled mess.
“I’m here,” he says. “You’re not alone. Someone will be in shortly to talk to you, and they’ll have more information.”
The room is quiet, except for the beeping machines. Two beds, one window, two doors.
“You stayed,” I finally whisper.
He nods. “I stayed.”
“You didn’t have to,” I say, but the words hurt at the selfish thought of being alone.
“I wanted to.” Felix’s jaw is set firm despite his soft tone.
My gaze drifts down, and that’s when I really see myself.
White bandages wrap my torso. There’s a dull, constant ache beneath everything, layered with sharper pain that flares if I breathe too deeply.
“Do you know what’s wrong with me?” My voice sounds small.
Felix glances toward the doorway, then back at me.
“I may have snuck a look when no one was watching. But I shouldn’t be the one to give you that information.”
“Please, if you know, then tell me. It will help me focus on things I can fix.”
“Alright….” He sighs and shifts a little closer on the edge of the bed. “You have a few cracked ribs, a badly sprained ankle, and a mild concussion. Your arm is broken, but it’s been set and is in a cast. Other than that, you have some minor cuts from the glass and bruises.”
“So, I’ll be okay? I’ll walk?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Yes, you don’t have any injuries that would stop you from walking again,” he says without hesitation.
“Are you okay?”
He holds up his leg to show off an air cast.
“I broke my left foot, but I didn’t feel it at the crash site. Other than that, just some bruised ribs. I got off easy. A guardian angel was watching over me,” he says with a tight smile.
Tears spill before I can catch them. Silent wet streaks that make me feel weak when I’ve watched a person burn to death right before my eyes.
I survived. I should be relieved. Felix tightens his hold on my hand and lets me cry.
A nurse sweeps into the room carrying a tablet.
“How are you feeling?”
Felix stands to move out of the way, but I grip his hand tighter.
The nurse looks mildly annoyed, but she doesn’t comment. Her finger is poised and ready to take down whatever I say.
“I don’t know.”
It’s the only honest answer.
She checks my vitals and adjusts the IV in my arm. Then she asks me my name, the date, and where I am. I answer slowly, afraid that if I say something wrong, the world will crumble all over again.
“How is your pain level from one to ten?”
“Seven, I guess. Ten when I move.”
“I’ll be back shortly to give you more pain meds.” She points to the slowly dripping bag.
I nod, not really caring.
When she leaves, it’s quiet again.
“My head feels…so fuzzy,” I admit. “Like I’m underwater or high.”
“So, you’ve gotten high…good to know,” Felix says with a smirk.
At another time I would’ve smiled, maybe even laughed, but I can’t bring myself to feel much of anything other than worry.
“That’s the concussion. They’ll keep an eye on you to make sure it doesn’t get worse. Don’t be surprised if they keep waking you up. That’s what I’ve seen in movies. I don’t really know if it’s true.”
I bite my lip and try to hold back the emotion threatening to choke me.
“You’re going to hate the spirometer,” he adds.
“I don’t want to know what that is,” I murmur.
“It’s to test your lungs.”
I slowly turn my head and look at him.
“How do you know that I’ll need that?”
Felix lifts a shoulder, then lets it drop, before hitting me with a grin.
“I’m good at listening.”
“You mean eavesdropping?”
“Maybe,” he says with a smirk.
My lips turn up a little for the effort.
“How long was I out?”
“It’s been a while, five…maybe seven hours now. I can’t remember when we got here, and they took me for x-rays and stuff. I’m sorry.” He shifts in his chair. “Does that mean you don’t remember everything?”
My chest aches.
“I remember the crash. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Not much after. It’s all in bits and pieces.”
His jaw clenches.
“Understandable.”
I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling.
“I was dreaming,” I whisper. “About before it happened. I had such a great weekend with my parents. I tried to wake them. I kept trying.”
Something flickers across his face. Sadness, maybe guilt or something deeper.
“Please look me in the eye and tell me if they’re alive or dead. That’s all I need to know.”
Felix squeezes my hand once.
“I know it is.” His voice is soft and filled with concern. “I genuinely don’t know, but…this many hours later…I’m sorry, Eden. I don’t think they made it.”
The tears fall harder. The sobs cause a stabbing pain in my ribs. But I would take the ache a million times for them to be alright.
“This can’t be happening.”
I don’t ask more. My body is too tired and my mind too fragile.
The weight of everything presses down on me like a massive boulder.
My future feels suspended somewhere out of reach.
Something I almost touched and then lost. Why did I take a gap year?
Why didn’t I just go to university last year? None of this would have happened.
As my eyelids grow heavy again, fear curls tight in my chest.
“Felix?” I murmur.
“I’m here.”
“Please don’t leave.”
“I won’t. Not ever.”
The beeping of the monitor is steady, becoming a strange little lullaby. The pain dulls into something manageable as sleep pulls me under again.
I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back, and then…nothing.