to die. But not with you. Alone. We’re all alone.” She felt a shiver deep inside as she twisted her head, squeezing her eyes shut, breaking the connection.
“Kristen. The night I called Kristen,” she said suddenly, leaning up to whisper in his ear, pressing her cheek against his. The clammy chill made her nauseous. “Remember it?” she asked, feeling a flutter of eyelashes as he closed his eyes, concentrating. “You said, ‘Try to say it now.’ Can you see it, Adam? Do you remember?” She felt him nod, the stubble of his cheek prickling. “You said, ‘Try to say it now.’ You said, ‘Tell me there’s nothing here.’ What did I say, Adam?” she asked, pulling away when his arm went limp. She took his face in her hands, watching his eyes, the deep burning brown.
“I can’t…” he mumbled.
“What did I say, Adam?” He blinked, a tear slipping from each eye, racing for his jaw.
“You didn’t say anything.” He opened his eyes again, focusing on her. “You didn’t say anything because you couldn’t.” The realization hit him, the Touch fading back into the background. “You couldn’t,” he repeated, the words coming out a heavy sigh as he leaned against her shivering. She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping it around both of them.
She tried to keep herself from going rigid, the confession that she hadn’t been able to face before now leaving her vulnerable. There was something there. Something between them.
“Better?” she asked. He nodded, holding her close, his embrace tender again.
“I want to check on Jarrod and Libby. Will you be okay?” she asked, trying to shake away the image of violence. He nodded and she stood, helping him lie back down and tucking the blanket around him.
Walking across the room, she cast one last glance to Adam. What she felt wasn’t the raging fire it had been with Az. More of a slow burn, growing larger with each day that passed. Enough to warm her insides, but not consume her. Maybe that’s what love is supposed to be like? she thought. Her stomach fluttered as she knocked quietly on the door. There was a grunt from inside and she opened it slowly, preparing herself.
Jarrod was on the bed. Libby’s head was in his lap, her eyes closed. Her hair was free for the first time since Eden had known her, draped around her in a greasy tangled halo. Around her face, the strands clung to her wet skin.
Jarrod dipped a washcloth in a pot of water next to him, running it slowly across her forehead. Libby grimaced as the cloth slid down her cheek, across her neck.
“She looks better than I expected,” Eden said quietly, careful not to break the thin hold sleep had claimed.
“The first time is always the worst. But she’s strong. She’s holding her own.” He looked up at Eden and she saw the shadows there, darkness behind his gaze. He closed his eyes, wincing.
Eden moved to sit beside him but he held up a hand. “Just give me a minute,” he whispered. A tremor passed through him, Libby’s hair shuddering across the sweat-dampened pillow under her. Jarrod took two impossibly deep breaths, and whatever had threatened to take over was gone.
“I didn’t know how hard it would be for me to resist. My head’s all messed up. I don’t know what to believe. Adam told me what he heard through the walls when he lived at Kristen’s, but I wasn’t expecting it to be like this.”
“It’s been a few days. Shouldn’t be much longer. If you need to stop, I’ll understand,” she said, but he shook his head.
“I got this.” And there it was in his voice. That reassurance she’d been dying to hear from either of them.
Reaching over, he took up the washcloth again.
“You’re doing good, Jarrod,” she said, hoping the praise would help him, but meaning it just the same. He was coming through for her.
“Hey!” he said, stopping her at the door. “I’m sorry. About pushing you. Maybe we could talk about it, make things cool again?”
She wanted to say it back, but it would only lead to them talking about the Siders on the stairs again. Now wasn’t the time to be calling attention to anything that volatile. Eden nodded.
Adam was sitting up when she returned to him, what happened five minutes ago forgotten.
She reached over to the chair, picking up her coat from where she’d left it yesterday for the brief minutes she’d left the