“Why are you acting surprised?” Eden asks. “That ultimatum is pretty obvious. You should have known that it was going to come to this.”
I tilt my head back to the ceiling and run both my hands back through my hair. “Fuck,” I mutter. I can’t talk about this for a second longer, because I will only end up losing my temper over it all, so I decide to leave while I’m still calm. I head into the kitchen, and a few seconds later, I hear Eden slamming a door upstairs.
Now I am torn. There is no way I am breaking up with Tiffani, but now I’m worried Eden is going to distance herself from me if I don’t. And right now, I can’t even begin to think about which would be worse: breaking up with Tiffani and having her expose all of my secrets or never getting to figure out what more could have happened between Eden and me. My head is spinning, and I know that either way, I can’t win. I’m feeling hopeless and defeated, but also frustrated with a desire to just relax. I will definitely be meeting Declan tonight. I just needsomething.
I fetch myself a glass of water, send Declan another message, thenhead upstairs to my room. Eden is in hers, but I decide not to bother her. I think we both need some space right now. Instead, I pace in my room and try calling Tiffani again. I listen to the monotonous dial tone on repeat for half an hour, calling and calling, begging her to answer so that I can at least try to explain myself. My heart stops beating for a second when she does finally pick up my calls, but only to promptly hang up again before I can get a word in.
I give up at that point and hurl my phone across my room, only angering myself more when I hear my screen smash. As I’m reaching down to pick it back up to examine the damage, I hear my door open, and I’m disappointed when Mom walks into my room and not Eden. She must have heard the thud, because she leans against my doorframe and frowns at my phone in my hands. She’s still holding her car keys, so she must have just gotten back.
“Tyler,” she says.
“What?” I snap. Yeah, I’ve added another crack to my phone. I am always smashing the damn thing, but it always feelssogood just to throw something. Sometimes, I wonder if Dad felt the same satisfaction when he threwmearound. I hate him, but there are moments where I think that maybe I might understand him.
“Okay, so you’re still in a bad mood,” Mom states, releasing a tired sigh.
“I’m not in a bad mood,” I argue, turning to face her directly. I throw my phone down onto my bed and fold my arms across my chest, staring evenly back at her.
“Yeah, sure.” She purses her lips at me and her eyes grow sad. She lowers her voice and softly asks, “Why did you curse at me like you did earlier?”
“Because I’m an idiot, Mom!” I yell at her. I am craving a buzz morethan ever right now, and I am quickly losing my patience. I still feel bad about the way I spoke to her earlier, but I really can’t deal with her questioning me about it. I’m already dealing with enough as it is.
We argue back and forth, growing more and more exasperated with each other, until finally, Mom gives up and leaves my room, most likely feeling even more disheartened than she did when she first entered. I do feel bad, and I contemplate heading out right there and then to meet Declan, but dinner is soon, so I decide to hold off. It’s only for a couple hours. I can cope until then.
Even when dinner does roll around, my mood hasn’t improved. Mom was right, Iamin a bad mood, and I can’t even hide the disgruntled expression I’m wearing as we all sit around the kitchen table. Minus Jamie. He’s at his friend’s house for dinner, which leaves us as only a family of five tonight. Mom is trying to keep the conversation happy and light, and Dave is talking about some meeting he had at work today, but I am totally tuned out.
I am staring across the table at Eden, my gaze never leaving her. I watch as her mouth curves when she speaks, as she glances down at her lap every so often, as she frowns uncertainly when Mom sets a dish of barbecue ribs down on the table. She doesn’t ever really look at me. I think she is still waiting for me to choose which option I am taking in regards to Tiffani, but the truth is I’m not taking either option.
“I can’t sit here,” I announce, pushing my chair back from the table and getting to my feet. The smell of those ribs is making me feel sick, but that’s not the only reason I refuse to stay. My desire for a hit is growing stronger every minute. “I’m heading back upstairs.”
Mom immediately looks at me. She is standing behind Dave, her hands on his shoulders, her smile faltering. “But yours is just comin—”
“I’ve got some stuff to do,” I cut in. Nothing will make me stayat this table, not when I can sense Eden’s anger at me. As I leave the kitchen, I call over my shoulder, “I’ll heat it up later.”Yeah, when the munchies kick in.
I head up to my room, taking two steps at a time, and I fire Declan another message asking if he can hook me up as soon as he possibly can. I am desperate now, but he isn’t replying. I try to call Tiffani again instead, but it’s yet another failed attempt. If she doesn’t talk to me tonight, I will have no other choice but to turn up at her house tomorrow. That’s most likely what she wants me to do anyway. She’ll want to see me beg.
As I impatiently wait for Declan to get back in touch with me, I sit down on the edge of my bed and interlock my hands between my legs, focusing on nothing in particular as I try to calm my breathing. I listen to the silence in my room, inhaling, exhaling. It is quickly interrupted when Eden walks straight in without even knocking first.
“We’re watching Chase,” she casually informs me, her voice back to its usual husky tone. “Jamie’s maybe broken his wrist.”
My eyes immediately flick up to meet hers as my heart misses a beat. It is such a sensitive subject, and I am so protective that I am instantly on my feet and walking toward her. I am ready to kill someone. “What happened? Where is he? Who?” I ask, and already I can find my body heating up from the panic that is flooding through me. Dad used to break my wrist all the time.
Confusion crosses Eden’s calm features. “What?”
I shouldn’t have askedwhodid it. That was my subconscious asking that, a question that is so ingrained in me from my childhood. There was always someone behind my injuries. I clear my throat and swallow hard. “I mean, how?”
“I think he fell on it,” Eden says with a small shrug. She is stillanalyzing me, confused by my questions, and I know I slipped up there. I just hope she doesn’t think too deeply about it. “I heard you’ve broken yours, tough guy,” she adds in a lighter tone, a small smirk on her face.
What the hell? How does she know that? And why is shejokingabout it? I broke my wrist three damn times in one year, because my father was out of control. “Who told you that?” I demand.
“Um, Chase,” Eden says quietly. Clearly, she didn’t realize just what exactly she is reminding me of. She bites down on her lower lip and searches my eyes for answers. “What’s wrong?”
Oh, Chase. He can’t have told Eden the truth about Dad because evenhedoesn’t know the truth. He only knows that growing up, his big brother always seemed so clumsy. “What else did the kid tell you?” I ask. I have to make sure. There are so many things his young, innocent self could say.
“Nothing,” Eden breathes.
I step closer to her, my eyes never leaving hers. “Are you sure?”
“Stop freaking out,” she tells me, though she looks uncomfortable with my reaction. “I’m sure.”
