Page 106 of Scoring Eden

She shakes her head with a sad laugh. “I think there would be.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I let my gaze drift back to Eden and watch as she leans into her sister and whispers something in her ear before giggling. Fuck, that smile. That laugh. Every time I hear it, I swear my entire body warms like the sound itself is made of sunrays. She’s wearing the same pink dress and cardigan that she wore to the house showing, the one that sent me fucking feral. And while I’d love to go over there, throw her over my shoulder, and take her somewhere quiet so I can strip her out of it, the feeling I get when I watch her is the same as the one I saw on Brynn’s face just a few moments ago.

Peace.

“You could have it too, you know?” My sister’s soft voice pulls my attention back to her. “What I’ve found.”

Somehow, that breaks my heart even more, and for the first time, I let myself wonder what that would look like. Setting my alarm thirty minutes early so I can worship Eden’s body every morning before Macon wakes up for school and I leave for practice. Stolen kisses in passing. Dinners every night as the three of us. Holding hands beneath tables, daily debriefs in the shower, knowing looks across crowded rooms, and falling asleep in the sanctuary of each other’s arms.

It strikes me then that we’re not too far from that now.

But assigning a label, making those things real, would bring with it a slew of other things that would ruin us before we really started. Because how could I let myself truly love her without wanting to bundle her in bubble wrap every time she thought about leaving the house?

My fear would encroach on her independence. I’d be controlling, too afraid of losing her in an accident that I wouldn’t ever let her drive. I’d be terrified every hour Macon’s at school. I’d overcook chicken because I’d be scared of giving them salmonella. I’d be relentless, obsessive, and suffocating.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Brynn’s eyes glitter with tears. “You wouldn’t be any of those things, and do you know how I know?”

I hadn’t meant to say any of that aloud, but I shake my head regardless.

“Because even at your most overbearing, you never behaved that way with me. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. Yes, you had your moments. You were overly suspicious of people’s intentions with me, you liked to track my progress whenever I traveled anywhere, and we all know how you handled finding out about Leo and me, but you never tried to stop me from living my life.” She lays her hand on my arm. “The only person you’ve ever done that to is yourself.”

TEXT THREAD BETWEEN ALEX AND EDEN

Alex: Where are you?

Eden: Backyard. Just needed a minute to myself.

Alex: Okay, let me know when you come back inside.

Eden: You can join me…if you want to.

Alex: I thought you needed some space.

Eden: Not from you.

THIRTY

EDEN

Macon is passed out on a sofa in one of the many reception rooms as I swing on the hanging daybed beneath the hidden pergola outside. It’s secluded enough to give me the illusion of solitude, yet not so much that if I lean to the side, I can’t see the shadows of everyone inside or hear their laughter tinkling across the grass. Seattle drizzle patters against the cedar shelter, bringing with it a cold sting of wind that makes me tug the moleskin blanket I pilfered tighter around my shoulders.

There's melancholia in the air I’m breathing tonight. Sebastian’s threats to serve me with sole custody papers have intensified in the last twelve hours, and though Alex told me a while ago that he’s set me up with a lawyer, I’ve yet to meet with her and start laying out some plans of my own.

I’ve been distracted…and shamefully naive to think that, because I haven’t heard from Sebastian since the photos of Macon and me outside our old apartment building were released to the press, he’d been reconsidering his pursuit to disrupt our son’s life. The email I received this morning with the subject Last chance or I tell everyone, with several links attached, was an unholy reckoning. It was also way too ominous for me to click on, so it’s still sitting there, burning a hole in my inbox.

Leaves crunch under slow footfalls, and I let my head fall back against the swing with my eyes closed. I know who it is from smell alone. After last night, his masculine, earthy scent has forever imprinted itself in my memory. With my eyes shut like this, I swear I can still feel his hands on me, demanding yet gentle. Can still hear the deep growl of my name on his lips as he came.

Maybe closing my eyes wasn’t the best idea. The images are brighter this way, our bodies writhing in full color and perfect clarity against the darkness of my eyelids.

The swing dips under his weight, and I blink my eyes open to find his boyish smile glinting in the moonlight. His hair is slightly damp from the rain he had to walk through to get to me, and there’s a dusting of goosebumps over his arms from the wind.

I toss him a corner of the blanket.

“Thanks.” He grins wider, his eyes not leaving mine.

It’s the first time we’ve been alone since we fell asleep last night in a knot of arms and legs, my face in his neck, his buried in my hair. For a man so scared of commitment, he’d clung to me all night, pulling me back in each time I grew too hot and tried to roll away. He held me like he was scared I’d leave if he let go.

“Enjoying the party?” I ask. I don’t know why. There are so many things I could say to him right now, and small talk isn’t one of them, but my tongue suddenly feels too big for my mouth.