I turn on the shower. “Morning,” she says too brightly, giving me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I thought you’d still be in bed,” I say, watching her scoop up last night’s clothes.
She dumps the whole pile straight into the bin.
“I want to apologise to the girls again. I feel terrible for worrying everyone.”
“And that couldn’t wait?” I step into the shower, keeping my gaze on her. “Why are you throwing your clothes away?”
“I got vomit and dirt on them.”
“So wash them.”
She hesitates, eyes flicking away. “God knows what crap I was lying in, I’d rather buy a new dress.”
Something in me twists. She’s hiding something. I can feel it like a kick to the ribs.
“While we’re on the subject,” I say slowly, “what the hell happened?”
I open my eyes, and she’s staring at me, blank, guarded, like she’s searching for the safest answer.
“Erm… I’m not entirely sure,” she says. “I think I fell over. Hit my head. When I woke up, my phone and purse were gone.”
“That’s a serious knock to the head, Eden.” My voice hardens. “You were out for hours.”
“I know.” Her voice is tiny. Hollow.
“Go talk to the girls,” I tell her gently. “I’ll finish up, and then we’re going to the hospital.”
She laughs, high and forced. “There’s no need. I feel fine now. Honestly. Don’t fuss.”
“I’m not arguing on this, Queenie.” My tone leaves no room for debate. “You’re getting checked.”
Her smile falters, and for a heartbeat, I see pure fear flash in her eyes. She hides it instantly. But I saw it.
And now I know for damn sure, something happened last night.
Something she’s terrified to say out loud.
EDEN
Martha and Fern are in the main room, and the second they see me, they rush over and pull me into another hug.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Fern admits, voice shaky. “I kept thinking about what could have happened.”
“Listen,” I say quietly, pulling back enough to look them both in the eyes. “You have to get me out of going to the hospital. Kade wants to take me and I really, really don’t want to.”
Fern frowns. “Actually, it’s a good idea. It sounds like you hit your head pretty bad.”
“I didn’t hit my head,” I whisper. Their expressions change instantly to concern. “I think I was drugged.”
Martha grabs my hand. “The drink the man sent over?” I stare at her, my pulse spiking because I have no idea what she’s talking about. She leans closer. “Eden, remember? A man sent us drinks. I drank mine and threw up straight away in that fake plant pot. And then I had the worst headache the rest of the night.”
My heart slams painfully against my ribs.
I hear footsteps approaching; Kade’s, and panic grips me.
“I can’t go to the hospital,” I hiss, desperately.
