“I tried to call you several times!” I snap; eyes locked on her.
“I couldn’t answer in the hospital, and then I forgot.”
“Get out,” I growl. “I want to talk to my ol’ lady.”
Eden nods weakly, giving her permission, and Martha slips out, though her glare on the way tells me she hates leaving.
I slam the door behind her and lock it.
“Explain,” I demand.
Eden’s voice is small. “Like she said, I have a concussion.”
“Notthat,” I growl, stepping closer. “The other stuff. Where you were. Why you’re acting weird.”
“Kade, Idon’t remember.”
“Bullshit, Eden.” My voice cracks with something sharp and ugly. “Total fucking bullshit. You remember the beginning of your night perfectly. But the exact bit where you vanished? That’s the part you forget?”
Her shoulders stiffen. “What are you trying to say?”
I drag a hand down my face, trying to steady myself, failing. “Did you cheat on me?”
Her mouth drops open. “You think I lost the girls on purpose?” Her voice shakes. “That I went looking for some random hook-up?”
“I don’t know, Eden!” I shout, slamming my palm into the wall. The sound makes her flinch, and guilt mixes with fury. “I don’t know what the fuck to think, but you’re hiding something,” I add, quieter but no less intense.
Her body trembles. She covers her mouth with both hands, sobbing so hard her breaths come in pieces.
“G–get out,” she chokes.
“I just want the truth,” I say, softer but desperate.
“N–now, K–Kade,” she begs, each word broken with trembling sobs.
And all I can think is,she hasn’t denied it.Not once.
My stomach turns to stone.
I storm from the room, yanking the door open so hard it bangs against the wall, and I nearly collide with Martha.
She’s been waiting outside. Listening. Her eyes burn with fury.
I don’t look at her for long, the rage inside me is too hot.
I walk away, every step heavier than the last, the image of Eden sobbing burned into the back of my skull like a brand.
EDEN
“Shh,” Martha whispers, stroking my hair and holding me against her like she’s trying to keep me from falling apart completely. Her arms are tight. Steady. While mine feel useless, limp at my sides as another wave of sobs rips through me.
“It’s going to be okay,” she murmurs.
But she’s wrong. Nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be the same again.
The doctor’s voice still echoes in my head––calm, gentle, but ending my old life with her words. She told me the truth I didn’t want to hear. That my nightmare wasn’t imagined. That my memories might come back in pieces, out of order, jumbled. But they would only continue to confirm everything I already knew. She told me the tests had to be done. That I’d have to wait for results to see if this nightmare would get any worse.If that was even possible.
And then the pill.
