Page 44 of Thanks for Coming Along

"Hello? Am I in the pits of hell?" he answered groggily, his voice still thick with sleep.

"No, sir. This is your 8 AM wake-up call," a pleasant voice chirped over the phone line.

"Of course it is, thank you," Ronan replied, then placed the clown back on its receiver. He glanced at Eden, who was lightly rubbing her eyes with her fingers.

"Who was that? Pennywise asking if we have any children available for his breakfast?" she mumbled sleepily. God, she looked adorable in the morning. Her eyes squinted from drowsiness, and her hair was messy. He cleared his throat, trying to get his bearings.

"No, Jigsaw is asking if we want to play a game. I told him we would play after breakfast,” he replied, getting out of bed quickly so she couldn't see his obvious erection. He rummaged through his backpack, feigning busyness as he attempted to cool the raging fire coursing through his veins. She had no clue what she did to him. He was ready to rip off that stupid T-shirt, splay her on the bed, and take his sweet time discovering that hot body—inch by inch.

He took a deep breath, feeling his resolve to stay away from Eden slipping more with each passing second. After finding out she wasn’t dating Quentin yesterday, he’d nearly lost it. He had been so close to kissing her in her driveway. It took all his willpower to stop himself from devouring her, from claiming those tempting lips for himself.

The only thing stopping him was the desperate need to hold on to some shred of professionalism. After all, she was technically his colleague. Her comment from yesterday, "Anything for my favorite coworker," echoed in his mind, momentarily numbing the fiery desire that surged through his veins. She saw him as a coworker, and the word left an uneasy churn in his stomach, making him feel nauseated.

Then again, this morning, she had ground herself against him, but she had been asleep, and it was the unconscious Eden who sought him out. He wasn't quite sure how to process that. A warm hand touched his shoulder, and his entire body tensed at the unexpected contact.

"You have been staring at that T-shirt for a solid three minutes," Eden said softly. He looked down at the T-shirt he was holding, realizing he had paused his packing while lost in thought.

"Just thinking that my 'Clown Paradise' T-shirt is about to replace this one as my new favorite," he replied with a touch of humor, neatly folding the shirt and placing it into his backpack.

"Whatever you say, Ro,” Eden eyed him suspiciously as she headed to the bathroom. He eyed her long, smooth legs from her oversized "Clown Paradise" t-shirt. He wasn't lying when he said it was his new favorite shirt.

29

Ronan

Ronan took a small, hesitant sip of the lukewarm black coffee, grimacing at the burnt taste that lingered on his tongue. He watched with mild amusement as Eden fiddled with the jukebox on the wall, her eyes narrowing in concentration. In typical Eden fashion, she settled on "I Wanna Be Your Dog" by The Stooges. Only Eden would opt for punk rock at nine in the morning.

She dropped herself on the shiny red vinyl booth and grabbed the large sugar canister from the sticky formica table. She poured a healthy amount of sugar into her coffee and took a long pull from her coffee cup. Her nose wrinkled at the taste of the bitter liquid.

"This coffee tastes like sock water," Eden said loudly, taking another sip. Someone cleared their throat at the front of the table: an older woman with dyed red hair in a retro-style red dress and white apron, her arms crossed over her chest. Eden swiveled her head to face the head of the table and choked on her coffee, erupting into a fit of coughing.

"It's the best sock water in all of the world. Like Emma Watson's socks made this coffee,” Eden said sheepishly. She took another sip of the coffee and smiled with a thumbs up. The waitress popped her gum in response, then flicked open her notepad. She placed her pencil pointedly on the paper.

"I've been making coffee in this diner before you were even a twinkle in your parent's eyes," she replied, her gum popping between her teeth. If that were the case, you would have thought the coffee would have tasted better, but he wasn't about to be the one to tell the sassy waitress. Ronan scanned her name badge, which displayed the name Lola.

"Well, I think this cup of joe is the best I've ever had, Lola." Ronan delivered the compliment with a disarming smile, causing Lola's cheeks to flush slightly. Her demeanor shifted as she turned her eyes towards Ronan.

"Well, thank you, handsome. At least one of you has some sense," Lola replied, batting her eyelashes in Ronan's direction. Her gaze then shifted to Eden, and her expression hardened. "What can I get you, Pookie?" Lola pointed the question at Ronan as if Eden had suddenly become invisible to her.

"Can we have two stacks of blueberry pancakes and a side of hash browns, please? Thank you so much, Lola." Ronan smiled his best winning smile and handed her the menus.

"Of course, darling," she replied and walked away with a pep in her step over the checkered black-and-white tiled floor towards the counter stretching along one side of the diner.

"Pookie? Seriously?" Eden said in disbelief, shaking her head. "I saw her use instant coffee," she mumbled under her breath as she looked out the diner's window. She was lost in thought as her eyes traced the sandy landscape outside. The midday sun hung high in the cerulean sky, its rays casting patterns on the Formica table.

"Can we talk about last night... The nightmare?" Eden's voice was soft and filled with concern. Ronan paused, momentarily struggling to recall the dream's details from the night before. His night terrors were such a regular part of his life that they had almost become mundane, a nightly occurrence. His recurring night terrors were always fragments of that accident in Yemen, haunting him ruthlessly. The terrifying dreams were so frequent that it was surprising when he didn't have one.

What he didn't forget was Eden comforting him, her soothing embrace, the warmth of her body, and the way she held him so gently. Suddenly, a realization hit him: He had slept soundly through the night after she had comforted him. That was pretty rare for him, given how often his night terrors would wake him up. But somehow, being comforted by Eden had made them a little easier to handle.

He picked up the salt shaker from the diner table, its glass body cool against his fingers, and gave it a gentle twirl. It spun on its axis, causing it to spin with a satisfying rhythm before it finally touched down, bouncing lightly on its base. Eden's hand came down gently on top of the shaker, bringing it to a halt. Ronan's gaze lifted from the salt shaker to meet Eden's, her raised eyebrows silently questioning his attempt at distracting himself from the question.

"Ro, I have told you my deepest secrets," Eden said, her gaze unwavering as her deep blue eyes locked onto his. "I can tell something is weighing on you. There are moments when I see it, this weight pressing down on you. Please, tell me the truth."

Ronan considered his options, as he always did. He did carry the weight of the accident, the memory etched so deeply into his brain that it cast shadows on every recess of his unconscious and conscious mind. These past few weeks, something had shifted. Eden had begun to occupy more and more of his thoughts, gradually replacing the haunting memories. Her laughter, jokes, and the way she touched him overpowered the relentless ghosts that seemed to follow him. They were still here but less all-consuming.

He felt the weight of it all on his chest, like he needed to open up and share what was on his mind. But a wave of fear hit him, pulling him back. What if Eden saw him differently once she knew the truth? What if it changed everything between them? His thoughts were all over the place, swirling like a storm in his stomach. But then Eden reached for his hand, like she could sense the inner workings of his mind.

If there was anyone to talk to about this, she was the one. She was a rock standing steady in a sea of tempestuous waves. She had survived unthinkable things, not only survived but persevered and thrived.

---