Page 165 of Haunt Me

Eden: I’m can’t go to England now. What if he’s there? Wes is his friend, not to mentionverysneaky, so he might have invited Isaiah too without telling me. How will I ever look Isaiah in the eye again? I thought… I thought, if he was there, it might… It might be time to see him again, to see if we can both stand it, you know? I don’t want us to be complete strangers.

Manuela: You will never be that.

Eden: But honestly, after what James told me… Now that I know what Solomon did to that family, I don’t know how any of them can look at me and not be murderous. How did they come here, in our house, and not spit in my face, Manu?

Manuela: I think you know the reason for that.

Eden: Because it wasn’t my fault. It’s someone else’s fault, what happened between us, right?. But it feels like it was my fault. It feels like it was, Manu.

Eden: Wait, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault and I think I shouldn't say it’s my fault either.

Manuela: Well done, baby. I think that’s what they call a breakthrough.

Eden: I don’t want it. I don’t know what to do with it.

Manuela: Maybe you should start dealing with it.

Eden: …

Manuela: Do you want to go to England, En?

Eden: Yes.

Manuela: Then you should go. Simple as that.

thirty-three

By the time I reach the waterfront, my head is a mess.

A mess of hope, joy, terror, panic. I feel everything all at once. I’m going to see Eden. And she won’t want to see me. But at least I will see her. I will breathe again, if only for a second.

But the minute I step out of the car, Wes, damn him, runs over to me, dressed in his Regency costume. I just gape at him as he jogs over the sand in a pair of breeches, a cravat, shirtsleeves, and a silk light blue vest that brings out his turquoise eyes. The look on his face is slight panic mixed with pure terror.

“Regency much?” I say to him instead of another greeting.

“Hello to you too.” He grabs my elbow, turning me to the side, and fear floods me.

Eden is not coming. Eden has asked him to kick me out. Eden hates me. Eden—

Stop it, brain.

“Something happened,” Wes tells me and it’s so hard to take him seriously right now. His hair is in curls, literal curls, styled to within an inch of its life, and he has these golden sideburns that make his cheekbones look more chiseled than a Roman god’s statue. But I am so scared, I can’t even laugh at him. “I see you’ve gone pale already,” he sighs. “Please don’t freak out for once.”

“Tell me,” I say.

“Eden’s poetry has been discovered online, and her poems have gone viral. Her real name has been leaked and attached to them. Her real… you know, story. Apparently, some people snooped around and discovered that she had been slamming her poems in New York a few years ago; they’ve found her out.”

I swallow hard, trying to concentrate past the icy fear that grips me, but all I can think of is:

No. No no no no no.

Everything is foggy after that.

I think that Spencer is explaining how Eden has been contacted by several huge websites and newsagents, as well as by several book agents who want to publish a book of her poetry and her story. Also, apparently, a princess has been calling her? No, wait I can’t have heard this last part right. Wait, how does he know all this?

Of course, he’s been talking to Eden.

The whole world has been talking to her, it seems, now that I’ve stopped.

---