Chapter 6
six
. . .
Felix
Snow crunches beneath my boot and the stupid Aircast as I climb the steps to Eden’s porch. I’m holding two coffees in a tray that is supposed to be helpful but feels more like a circus balancing act. Nestled between the steaming drinks is a paper bag from a local bakery.
The harsh cold clears my head better than the ice-cold shower I took earlier. Being around Eden is…difficult.
I barely slept, but not because of pain.
Eden fell asleep against me, her breathing slow, her face lax in rest, and I didn’t want to miss a single moment. She cried softly on and off as if something inside her had split open beyond repair.
I hate that pained expression and when she looks at me, my heart aches with each beat. And fuck…I like that she let me hold the world together for her, even if only for a few hours. But…she’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.
I wanted to run a few errands including getting a clean change of clothes, so I covered her with a blanket and left her resting peacefully on the couch.
I dislike that Eden is thirty minutes away from my place, but I’ll make it work…for now. I called my employee, who also happens to be my only friend, Matt, and told him I wouldn’t be in and to take the day off. Then I put a closed sign in my store window and hightailed it back here.
The porch light bulb is yellow and dull against the grey morning and needs to be changed before it burns out. I stare at it and decide to fix the problem, so Eden doesn’t get hurt.
My knuckles connect with the wooden door twice. No answer, so I wait another minute and then knock again.
Still nothing.
A strange pressure crawls up the back of my neck that is close to panic. What if she fell and can’t get up? What if someone broke in and hurt her? There is something deeply wrong with me that I’ll break down the door to the house to make sure she’s okay.
One of my errands was to make a copy of Eden’s house key and I quickly fish it out of my pocket. It’s supposed to be only for emergencies, and this can be counted as an emergency. I unlock the door and step inside.
“Eden?”
The house smells faintly of cinnamon and pine with a lingering of fabric softener. I close the door quietly behind me and take off my boot, but leave the Aircast in place.
“Eden?” I call again, louder this time.
She is no longer on the couch. I look up when I hear movement above me.
My body reacts before my brain catches up, and I’m already taking the stairs two at a time despite the ache in my foot. I really should just abandon the air cast, it’s totally overkill. I’ve had much worse breaks skateboarding and barely feel the pain in my left foot.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching the top landing.
Her bedroom door is half open.
Eden stands by her dresser in an oversized hoodie and a pair of underwear, gripping the edge hard enough her knuckles look bloodless. My eyes trace up her bare legs to the ocean-colored underwear. Jesus H…
Her face twists with pain when she tries to put weight on her foot. She isn’t wearing the support. Why is she trying to change alone? She needs me. That single thought has me marching through the door into Eden’s room.
“You shouldn’t be standing without your cast.”
Her head snaps toward me, sleep still clinging to her expression. She looks so strong and yet so vulnerable, pretty in a way that doesn’t feel fair to the rest of the world.
“Felix…how did you get in here?”
She stands a little straighter and pulls the end of the sweatshirt down to try and cover herself, which does nothing.
“You left the door unlocked.”
She stares at me.
I stare back.
“I…I could’ve sworn I had.” She shakes her head, brows knitting together.
I jump in before she questions it further. It’s too soon to tell her I made a key. It will just freak her out.
“I went to shower, change, and grab some breakfast for us.” I hold up my hand with the small offering. “The eau de hospital smell just wasn’t doing it for me.” I tease her, and the hint of a smile is my reward.
“Don’t you remember me telling you that I’m taking you to your physical therapy today?”
Eden’s frown deepens and it’s easy to see that she doesn’t want to go, but she must go or she won’t heal properly. I glance at the clock sitting on her nightstand.
“We have to leave in forty minutes. Do you want me to help you?”
A second passes too long before she sucks in a deep breath and winces immediately after.
“Don’t do that,” I say.
“What?”
“Take such deep breaths. Remember, your ribs are cracked.”
“That’s not something I can forget. I doubt I’ll breathe properly ever again.” She shifts positions slightly.
“You will,” I state and let her see the confidence in my eyes.
I move forward and steady her with my hand on her waist. Eden’s eyes go wide, and she freezes like a shy little deer.
I touch her shoulder and she tenses. “Let me help you so that you don’t end up falling? I promise I won’t try anything.”
She slowly relaxes, and with a sigh, Eden’s eyes soften and my chest warms with that tiny look. She really has no idea how incredible she is or what she is doing to me.
“Okay. Thanks.”
The glimmer of trust mixed with uncertainty is a new drug to my system.
“I hate this so much. The pain, the restriction of what I can do, the knowledge that even if my body heals…this emptiness…it will stay. They’re never coming back,” she chokes out.
“But I’m here now. So…” I set the coffee tray and bag down on her dresser and then wrap my arm around her waist to help her to the bed. Eden’s face twists in pain as she sits, but she doesn’t cry out.
There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair is tangled on one side from sleep.
Her sprained ankle that is an ugly shade of purple and green.
It is the least flattering look ever. Something about her looking wrecked and human, but choosing to lean on me, punches straight through my ribs. My heart beats faster.
“You brought me coffee,” she asks quietly, glancing at the tray.
“And muffins. Maple pecan.”
“Those are my favorite,” she says, her face brightening a little. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to.”
That’s the thing. I didn’t have to call the physiotherapy clinic yesterday or the funeral home early this morning to leave messages about making arrangements.
I didn’t have to spend thirty minutes on hold arguing with her parents’ insurance company to get information, schedule the consultation with the estate lawyer, or even set reminders in my phone for when Eden needs her next dose of pain medication. But I want to.
No one else will do all of this, and she keeps looking around like she expects the world to end every few seconds. I understand that look. I’ve been there.
“Have you taken your meds yet?”
“No.”
Grabbing the bottle off her nightstand, I drop one in my hand and take it to her along with the coffee. Opening it, I try it first. Nope, not too hot. I hand it over.
“You need to eat something. Those pills are strong, and the bottle says take with food.”
Heading to the dresser, I grab the muffins and wander back casually.
“You’re bossy,” Eden grumbles and I smirk.
“And you’re stubborn.” I cock an eyebrow at Eden and her lips press tighter together.
“That sounds like an insult.”
“Let’s just call it an observation.”
She giggles softly and rolls her eyes, but lets me sit close to her, our arms touching as I hand over the food. She reaches a little too fast, and her fingers curl into my sleeve as she winces when another flash of pain cuts through her.
It’s a tiny gesture. Barely there. But it still pulls at me in the best way possible. Someone needs me, but not just anyone…her. I love how Eden’s eyes light up when she sips the coffee and am happy that it’s exactly how she likes it.
Standing, I look around, despite knowing where her clothes are located.
“What pants do you want? I’ll grab them.”
“You don’t have to keep doing all this,” she says after a minute.
“What exactly is all this? Being nice? Offering to help? You’re right, but I want to. Hopefully, one of these times I say it you’ll start to believe me.”
Her throat works, and then she looks in the bag, pulls out the muffin, and takes a bite. She finally shrugs.
“But this is above and beyond for anyone.”
I lock eyes with hers, and an ache—that has nothing to do with the accident—pushes in on my chest. The warm glow of the sun is slipping through her blinds and reflecting off her amber eyes, makes her seem ethereal.
A gold shimmer covers the bruises. Gold over sadness. Gold over a girl who survived something she probably wishes she hadn’t. Gold making her look…like a small piece of heaven, and angel that got left behind.
“Stop saying it like it’s a bad thing. Looking after you isn’t a burden to me.”
“I only mean…you barely know me. Just because you got me out of the car doesn’t mean you’re automatically designated as my full-time caregiver. I have friends I can call to help.”
This again. Eden mentioned it last night during the movie as well. Does she really believe people only deserve care once they’ve earned enough hours? As if mutual devastation isn’t enough.
Ignoring the comment and gathering my thoughts, I head over to her closet and pull open the two accordion doors. She has all the items organized and color-coded from lightest to darkest.
Pulling out a grey pair of sweatpants, I close the doors and stop to grab clean, warm socks from her dresser.
“Eden…I know you don’t understand, but I need to do this for you. It’s helping me deal with my pain as much as it is helping you.”
My eyes never leave her face as I head back to the bed and then squat in front of her. I lay my hand on her knee, and she shivers under my touch.
I fucking love her reaction to me.
“Besides, you remember I like classic rock. You notice I hate hospitals. You know about my mother, my father, and what I do. That makes us a little more than just acquaintances, doesn’t it?
I’d go so far as to call us, friends.” My thumb rubs over her bare skin.
“People know each other in strange ways sometimes.”
Eden glances at my hand and bites her lip. That is a dangerous look. My muscles tighten. Very dangerous indeed. The longer she stares at me, the harder it becomes to remember where the line is supposed to be. I want to cross it and kiss her right now and find out what she tastes like.
“Yes…I suppose you’re right, but please know that if at any time you—”
“I won’t,” I say, cutting her off. “Hurry up and eat your muffin. We need to get going so that they don’t run over time. We have an appointment with the funeral home immediately after.”
“We? What?”
“Physiotherapy. Don’t you remember?”
“Oh…yeah, sorry.”
“And then we need to go to the funeral home,” I say, casually putting on her left sock.
Her eyebrows pull together. “I…I don’t understand.”
“I booked it this morning. They are super busy but agreed to talk to you today and have the service next weekend. This is a good thing. I know you don’t want them waiting for a funeral service.”
“Felix…that’s not your call.”
“Eden, you can’t ignore this. They are very busy and you need to bury them. They shouldn’t be left in some morgue freezer. I know it’s difficult, but this is the right thing to do.”
“I know, but you made an appointment again without asking me about it.”
“Yes, I know. You weren’t in any shape to talk about it last night, and you were asleep when I left this morning. I didn’t want you to miss getting in to see them today.”
Her bottom lip quivers and her eyes fill with tears.
“Felix…that was a personal decision that I should be making.”
“And you will,” I say with a shrug. “All I’ve done is set the ball in motion.
That’s it. This was such a weight with my mother, and I didn’t know where to start and wished I had someone to help relieve the burden.
Let me help you. I know what needs to be done.
Why let yourself be overwhelmed when I’m right here?
” Cupping her cheek, I trace her cheekbone and then jaw. “Please, Eden? Do this for them.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. I watch and spot the exact moment she realizes she doesn’t actually have the energy to argue. She’s exhausted and drowning.
Too many people think grief looks dramatic all the time. Screaming. Crying. Collapsing. Most of the time it looks like this. A girl too tired to fight. All I want to do is make her life easier, if she can just find it in herself to let me.
“I also made another call.”
Her eyes narrow immediately. “Felix.”
“What?”
“Who did you call?”
I gingerly slip the sock onto her injured foot and strap the Aircast into place before helping her into the sweatpants like a child unable to dress herself.
“The lawyer.”
Her face drains. Too far…I pushed too far.
“I know,” I say quickly. “I know it is too much. But the funeral home, the hospital paperwork, and lawyers all happen at the same time. Listen to me first before you get upset.”
Her coffee trembles slightly in her hands.
Fuck.
“I’m not trying to bulldoze you. Someone has to help you sort through everything. Do you agree that this is a lot?”
“Yes…but…”
“There is no but. It’s not going to go away.
I’m sorry that is painful, and yes, it can be Kyle, Kris, or a family member who helps.
But have they ever been through something like this?
Have they lived through a traumatic event while having to make extremely difficult choices about a loved one’s death?
Can they take you to all the appointments? ”
“No,” Eden admits softly.
“I have and I can. But I promise not to be so…bossy.”
I give her my best puppy dog eyes and try to smooth things over.
“But…I don’t want to think about wills, and paperwork, and death certificates right now.”
“The call was only to set an appointment, Eden.”
“I can barely breathe,” she whispers, her chest rising too fast.
Tears slide down her cheek, and my heart constricts. I take the coffee from her hands before she spills it and set it aside.
“I know,” I repeat. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone. I’m here. I want to be here. Let me help you. Let me be the person you lean on.”
Her eyes shine, and she looks away fast as if she hates being vulnerable in front of people.
Too fucking bad. I’ll hold every ugly part of her grief if she lets me. Every panic attack, nightmare, and shaking breath.
Mine.
It’s all mine.
Everything about her is mine.
Not mine like possession. Mine like responsibility. Mine like if she breaks apart again, I’ll be the one putting her back together.
“Okay…fine, you can help.”
Silence stretches between us while outside the snow falls. Eden finally looks at me like she’s trying to understand why I’m still here.
The truth is I don’t fully understand it either. I just know leaving Eden alone this morning felt wrong in a way I can’t explain. It’s as if I’m walking away from a loaded gun sitting on a table and trusting that no one will touch the trigger.
“We’ve got this.”
She nods once, the action small but obedient without realizing it.
And something dark inside me likes that far too much.