Page 181 of Haunt Me

His gravelly voice wakes me up.

In one move, he swipes the phone and puts it in the pocket of his jacket. He looks oddly calm, especially since he is usually the one to lose it. He helps me sit down. My jaw is clenched so hard it hurts.

“You know, all this time,” Walter says, “we thought that no one knows what went down, how it was with her, what she went through… We thought no one knew but her. But that’s a lie.”

“Because I know,” I say. “I was there.”

“You do. You were.” Suddenly, I realize the source of Walter’s calmness. It’s me. It’s the fact that I was with her back then. She was safe with me.

“She wasn’t alone. Dammit, I’m crying again.” I try to laugh, but it comes out as a sob. How pathetic. I would have lost the bet too. Wait, or won. But the girls are crying too. One of them—Manuela—grabs my hand and I let her. “She wasn’t alone.”

“She wasn’t alone then, and you aren’t alone now,” Manuela tells me. “You have us, Zay.”

…

After dinner, Eden and I drive back to the Elliot house. The car hums with electricity just at her proximity. I can’t utter a single word.

“Thank you for the first birthday of my life,” Eden says eventually.

I raise an eyebrow at her, barely taking my eyes off the road.

“Not for the best birthday of your life?” I ask her, smiling.

“You gave me two best birthdays of my life already,” she replies, “even though it hadn’t been my real birthday then, but who cares? They count as the best birthdays ever. As does this one.”

“You can’t have three best birthdays of your life,” I say.

“Watch me.”

“Are you planning to have a fourth best birthday?”

“I am planning to have a thousand,” she replies. “Well, that’s not realistic. But at least ninety of them.”

I bite my lip to keep from cheering. This is the first time she has actively stated that she is excited for the life that is ahead of her. That she plans for it to be a long, good one. I did not doubt she was, but hearing the words come out of her mouth makes my eyes sting with unshed tears. Tears of gratitude. Joy.

I blink rapidly.

Eden sighs. “You carried my books today,” she says dreamily. “They were so heavy too. Of all the things you have done for me, that is my favorite: carrying my books.”

This is not a date this is not a date this is not a date.

“What, you don’t have anything to reply?” she teases, unaware of how hard I am clenching my jaw.

“Baby, if I start talking right now, I’m not going to talk about books. Change the subject?” I hope she can’t tell I’m begging.

Ah, I shouldn’t have said that. It will scare her. I just can’t help myself when she is in such a good, playful mood. If my hands were not full with this steering wheel, I would not be able to keep them from straying all over her body. That body I know so well, every inch of skin, every hollow, every curve—but it’s now going to be new in so many delicious ways. I have missed holding her so much that I can barely—

“I never want this night to end,” Eden interrupts me and I take a much-needed deep breath.Focus on the road.“Sing to me, Isaiah?”

“Zay,” I say. “My family calls me Zay.” I remember saying this to Faith and Manuela a few months ago, and they already do it, but the one person I need to call me that, doesn’t. “Zay,” I say, almost inaudibly.

Eden is quiet. Her eyes have drifted shut.

“Please call me Zay,” I whisper, my voice a rasp.

“I can’t,” she says, breaking my heart.

So I start singing to her. My voice cracks a few times, but I smooth it out as we drive into the night. Eden’s head grows heavy with sleep, and she leans against my shoulder. I sing to her more quietly, softly, the songs I wrote for her desperately, screamingly.

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