“Eden.” She flicks up her chin, glancing over her shoulder before opening the door wider.
My gut knots. “You can’t call me that anymore, Camille.”
Her mouth curves into a sinister smile. “Relax. No one can hear us.”
“That isn’t the point, and you know it.”
But she always does whatever she can to upset me.
“This is all your fault.” She draws closer, refusing to let me in. “You ruined everything, and to this day, I can’t even call my friends or even see my boyfriend just because you…” She sticks her finger into my chest. “…decided to be a criminal.”
My muscles tighten. “I’m not doing this today.”
But of course, she’s right. I did do this. Me and my stupidity.
She scoffs. “We had a good life back home. But you had to go and fuck it all up.”
A laugh slips out. “A good life? We had rats in the walls, Camille. We couldn’t leave food out overnight without it being chewed through by morning. Mom was sick, Dad was drunk, and you spent half your time pretending you were better than all of it while I was the one trying to keep things from falling apart.”
Her eyes flash. “And now look at us. Happy fucking family.”
“This place is better. You know it is. It’s clean. It’s safe. And the rent is something we can actually manage. We’re lucky my friend set us up here.”
“Lucky,” she repeats flatly. “I’m not lucky. I’m stuck. Speaking of stuck, I hope you came here to give me the money for the week. I’m not doing this for free.”
My heart drops. I really need to find another job. “I-I-I don’t have it this week. But I promise I will in a few days. I have to get paid first, then you will?—”
“You truly disgust me. A pathetic, alcoholic do-nothing like Dad was. Maybe if we’re lucky, you’ll drink yourself into an early grave too.”
Tears burn behind my eyes. “How can you say that?”
She shakes her head, just like the man from the diner. “Because you’d do yourself a favor. Your little problem has already caused too many headaches. And if you forgot,I’mthe one who saved you from going to prison. You’re welcome.”
My mouth shuts because she’s right. She may have her faults, but she did save me. Mom’s death was ruled an accident, even when I was the one who pushed her.
A small sound comes from the hallway, and I inhale a sharp breath just as his soft footsteps draw nearer before his beautiful face comes into view. He peeks around Camille’s hip, dark hair sticking up in the back, large hazel eyes staring back at me with questions I can’t answer.
The sight of him hits me like a punch straight to the chest, a pain so brutal I don’t even know how to name it. The world constricts to this one moment, this one small body standing there like he’s not the reason my heart keeps beating.
“Mama!” The word tears out of my sweet little six-year-old boy, and emotions clog my throat.
I barely have time to take a step forward before Camille’s arm shoots out, blocking him.
“No,” she snaps. “Go upstairs.”
His face crumples. “But I wanna see Mama.”
“She’s busy. And she needs to go.”
“NO!” His brows furrow, and he pouts in that way he does when he’s mad and sad all at once.
“Do what I said, Milo.” Her tone rises. “Get your ass up there!”
With a cry, he trudges up the stairs, glancing back at me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he looks away too long. My entire soul shatters. I’m not here for him. To comfort him, to hold him, to tell him I’ll be back for him.
I want to run after him. I want to pull him into my arms and breathe him in until my lungs stop burning. Instead, I stand there shaking.
“Don’t yell at him. He’s just a baby.”
