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TWENTY-THREE
Eden sat in her childhood bedroom that night in her parents’ house wondering how in the hell she’d ended up there again. God. It was so frustrating. If only she’d not moved into Chandler’s place and gotten so comfortable there, with him, with them as a couple—or whatever it was they had been. If only she hadn’t slept with him.
If only I hadn’t fallen in love with him.
The sudden ache in her chest took her breath away. She rubbed the spot over her heart, blinking hard. Nope. Not going to cry. This was so stupid. She was so stupid. She knew better than to get involved with him. He was the guy she had hired to protect her and to help her remember the shooting. That was supposed to be the extent of their relationship. She certainly hadn’t hired him to be her boyfriend.
She flopped back onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, wondering when in the hell her life had gotten so screwed up. Again. Guess the lesson with her ex from California hadn’t taken like she thought because here she was again. Heartbroken. Lost. Starting over from scratch.
It sucks. Big time.
“Honey?” her mom said from the hall. “Everything okay?”
“Great.” Her tone sounded the exact opposite. With a sigh, Eden sat up. “Where’s Dad?”
“He went out to pick up dinner for us,” her mom said, coming in to sit on the bed beside Eden. “We weren’t expecting an extra houseguest, and we were planning to just eat leftovers tonight. But there’s not enough to stretch for three.”
And now she felt worse, if that were possible. “I’m sorry. Everything just happened so quickly, and I knew my old room was available and—”
“I’m not complaining.” Her mom reached over to tuck Eden’s hair behind her ear. “We haven’t seen much of you since you got out of the hospital after your accident, so I’m glad you’re here. I do worry, you know.”
“I know, Mom.” Eden took a deep breath, feeling restless and heavy all at the same time. She wasn’t claustrophobic, but it felt like the walls were closing in on her in there. Pushing to her feet, Eden forced a smile for her mom. “Why don’t we go set the table so we can eat when Dad gets back?”
Her mom looked up at her for a moment, then nodded. “If that’s what you want, honey.”
It wasn’t what she wanted. Not at all. What she wanted was to rewind life to that morning, when she’d woken up in Chandler’s arms and had thought it was going to be a good day. But there was nothing she could do to turn back the clock. There wouldn’t be any more mornings in Chandler’s arms. She needed to learn to deal with it and move on.
In the dining room, Eden got the plates and silverware while her mom handled napkins and drinks. Her dad returned with pizza a short time later, and they took their seats to dig in.
“So,” her dad said around a bite of food. “What precipitated this emergency stay?”
“Jackson!” her mother scolded him. “Don’t ask things like that.”
“What?” He scrunched his nose. “Why not, Danielle? She’s our kid. If she’s gonna move back home, even temporarily, I have a right to know why, don’t I?”
“I’m not staying long,” Eden mumbled from across the table. It felt weird, sitting here at this long table where she’d sat more times than she could count in her life. These days, when she came here, it was generally for some kind of family occasion, and the table was packed with her seven siblings and their spouses and kids. A quiet meal with just her and her parents hadn’t really happened since she’d moved back in with them after leaving California and Trent. There was an odd kind of symmetry to it. Just like then, her relationship was over, her heart was broken, and her future felt up in the air. It was as if all the progress she’d made over the years since had disappeared. Kind of sad somehow. Or maybe that was her broken heart talking again. “Just until the court date.”
“But why?” her mom said, frowning. “You know you’re always welcome, but I thought you liked having your own place. I know there was a fire at your salon, but that wouldn’t have affected your house. Is there some kind of problem with your house? Some reason it’s not safe?”
Eden sighed. She’d kept so much from them, not wanting to scare them or trigger them into hovering over her and being overprotective. She hadn’t wanted to be treated like a baby. But when she looked back on it, she was suddenly aware that keeping the truth from them, hoping she could just hide it forever, had been a little childish. If she wanted them to treat her as an adult, maybe it was time she started acting like one. Considering what she was dealing with, it was probably time to come clean. “I need to tell you what’s been going on. First, the fire at the salon wasn’t an accident. It was arson. It happened while I was trapped in the building. The man who set the fire was trying to kill me.”
“What?” her parents said in unison, gaping at her like she’d sprouted a second head.
She winced. “I’m sorry to spring it on you this way, but you deserve to know that it was attempted murder—and it wasn’t the first attempt.”
She went on to tell them about everything that had happened—starting with the car accident she now believed had been the first attempt to kill her and continuing straight on through the poisoning and the fire to the near-miss she’d had with another car accident earlier in the day. The only thing she left out was the part about her and Chandler becoming romantically involved. That, she was keeping to herself. When she was finished, silence hung heavy in the air as they seemed to take it all in.
Finally, her mother wiped her mouth, frowning down at the slice of barely eaten pizza on her plate. “Well, honey. We’re glad you’re all right and here safe with us tonight. But I won’t lie. I’m hurt that you didn’t tell us any of this before now.”
“You didn’t just keep it from us—you flat-out lied to us. When we called you because the news said there was arson at your salon, you said the broadcaster had gotten it wrong. You could’ve died,” her father said, his expression stony. “You could’ve died, and we wouldn’t have had any idea what was going on with you behind the scenes.”
“I know.” Eden threw up her hands. “I know, guys. And I’m sorry, okay? I was wrong. I shouldn’t have kept it from you. You deserved to know what was going on. I just…” This part was the hardest to say. She didn’t want to hurt her parents’ feelings. It was why she’d never confronted them directly about their hovering. It had felt cleaner and simpler to just ignore their calls and dodge their questions when she felt they were prying. But things would never get better if she wasn’t honest about what she wanted, even when it was hard or messy. “I didn’t want to deal with your reactions because I was worried you’d get overprotective.”
“Overprotective?” Her dad sounded baffled. “Baby, someone’s trying to kill you. They’ve tried multiple times. I’m not sure any level of protectiveness would really count as overkill at this point. What’s wrong with us wanting to keep you safe?”
“Nothing,” she agreed. “But the danger doesn’t make it okay to wrap me up in bubble wrap. I don’t need to be shielded from what’s really going on. I’m a grown woman—it’s time for the coddling to stop.”
“Coddling?” Her dad scowled. “We never coddled you.”
