The name of the pill punches me right in the chest.
“It’s the morning after pill,” Liam confirms casually. “I googled it.”
I crush the receipt into my fist, knuckles white. “Anything else?” My voice is ice.
“Not really. She goes to work, comes home. Rinse and repeat.” He yawns. “Doesn’t meet anyone. Sometimes, one of her little mates brings her lunch, but she never eats it. Waits for them to leave, and chucks it straight in the bin.”
I grit my teeth. Hard.
“Okay,” I breathe, placing an envelope of cash on the bar between us. “Keep following her.”
He smirks, dragging it toward himself.
“She’s got a night out this weekend,” I add. “Her friend’s surprising her. First time she’s gone anywhere since her birthday. If she talks to anyone—anyone—I want to know. The second it happens.”
Because the last time she went out, everything fell apart. And if she’s cheating? She’ll try to see him again.
CHAPTER TEN
EDEN
“This is not a good idea,” I whisper, my stomach twisting.
“I know,” Fern sighs, “but Kade insisted I take you out—so here we are.” She squeezes my hand and gives me a small, soft smile. “Look, I swear I won’t leave your side. Not for a second. If you pee, I pee. If you breathe weird, I’m breathing weird with you.”
I manage a nod. She means well. She always does.
“We’ll just go to Tappers,” she adds brightly. “Nowhere else. Familiar faces, familiar bar staff. No surprises.”
But the dread doesn’t leave me.
When we get downstairs, Kade is slumped on the couch, staring at the TV but not really seeing it. He flicks his eyes to me for half a second—empty, unreadable—before looking away again.
“We’re off,” Fern announces. Diesel grabs her, kisses her hard, murmurs something that makes her laugh.
Kade doesn’t move. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t stand. Doesn’t even pretend to give a shit.
I swallow, stepping closer. “I’ll see you later?”
His jaw tics. “If you don’t disappear again.”
The words hit like a slap—sharp, humiliating, and undeserved, but Fern yanks my arm before anything inside me can shatter.
“Come on, Eden,” she says firmly, pulling me toward the door.
I keep my eyes low as we walk past him. Because if I meet his stare right now, I’m scared I’ll break in half.
Tappers is the kind of place you start the night, not end it. Soft lighting, low music, older regulars hunched over pints of lager. It feels familiar and safe, exactly what I need.
I order a bottled non-alcoholic beer and watch the barman like a hawk as he removes the cap. “Glass?” he asks.
I shake my head quickly. “No. It’s fine.”
Fern doesn’t comment when I keep my thumb clamped over the top as we walk to a table. She just watches me with that mix of heartbreak and helplessness she’s worn for weeks.
“I know this sounds mad,” I whisper, leaning closer, “but I think someone’s following me.”
Fern frowns. “Why do you say that?”
