Fern exhales sharply. “I was thinking, you don’t want to tell Kade. Fine. But how aboutItell him?”
I put the sandwich down immediately. “No.”
Fern stares at me, and I know she’s close to losing her patience. “You’re ruining your relationship as it is,” she says. “Atleast give him an explanation. Diesel says he’s out of his mind with worry. He’s making stupid decisions, he’s messing up, he’s—”
“And how will he be when he finds out the truth?” I cut in, voice shaking. “You know exactly what he’ll do, Fern. He’s kept the club clean for years. He’s built a life away from all that. If I tell him, he’ll kill Liam.”
“Good!” she snaps, fury blazing in her eyes. “He DESERVES it!”
“And what trouble will that bring to the club? To all of you?” My voice cracks. “I will not be the reason Kade goes back to that life. And I will not be the reason he takes a life.”
Fern shakes her head, almost vibrating with anger. “You know, he’s not some sweet, fragile saint, Eden. Before you came along, Kade was one of the most brutal men in the club. None of them have clean hands—not a single one. And getting rid of Liam wouldn’t keep any of them up at night.”
“I said no,” I whisper. “Please. Just let it go.”
She huffs and folds her arms. “Fine.” But her voice drips with frustration. “I take it things are magically going back to normal then?” she says bitterly. “You and Kade? Back to how you were? Since you want to ‘move forward’ so badly?”
I nod, staring down at my notebook and twisting the corner until it nearly tears.
“So he’s back in your bed?” she pushes. “You’re trying for a baby again?” Another nod. Fern’s eyes go cold. “Liar,” she snaps.
My head jerks up.
“I saw him asleep on the couch in his office last night,” she says, her voice sharp with hurt and anger. “Don’t lie to me to keep pretending you’re okay. If you’re so determined to forget what happened, then at least fix things between you.”
Her words echo in the tiny office.
CHAPTER NINE
KADE
I stare at the little table she’s set up, the fake flickering candles, plates of picky bits, an effort she clearly hasn’t had the strength for in weeks. The moment she sees me, Eden stiffens slightly, then forces a smile as she pours wine into her glass.
“Shit,” she laughs softly, “you weren’t meant to come up here yet.”
“I needed some air,” I mutter, glancing out over the city instead of at her hollowed cheeks and tired eyes.
“Well, surprise,” she says with a shrug, trying to sound light.
“What’s this for?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but irritation slips through. She’s been blowing hot and cold for weeks. I never know which version of her I’m going to get anymore.
“I thought we could eat together,” she says quietly.
I look at her properly then––the sharpness of her collarbones, the way her clothes hang on her differently now. She’s lost so much weight she’s becoming a stranger in front of me.
“And you’re going to actually eat?” I ask, raising a brow.
She sits and gestures awkwardly at the table. “I got some of your favourites. Olives, salami.”
I step closer and grab the cold beer waiting for me. “Go on then,” I murmur, “eat.”
She reaches for a piece of cheese, the smallest thing on her plate, and places it in her mouth like she’s proving something monumental. When she looks up and gives me a shaky little smile, my chest tightens.
I sit. “I ate already,” I say bluntly. “Maggie made the steak pie.”
“Oh.” Her gaze drops to the spread she prepared, shoulders curling inward.
“I guess I can manage a bit more,” I add, guilt pricking. “I shouldn’t have—”
