Page 189 of Haunt Me

“Dad, don’t tell me you’ve been up waiting for us!” Eden exclaims.

My heart flutters. It will never get old, hearing her call him ‘Dad’.

“Of course I did, Paradise,” Walter stands up, hiding a yawn, and opens his arms to her. If he does the same to me, I swear I will lose it. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Very nice,” Eden drawls and Walter lifts an eyebrow at me.

He doesn’t say anything. I guess he trusts his daughter. I hope he trusts me too, but I wouldn’t put money on it.

“We each had one drink,” I say, “After dinner.” Eden is swaying against her dad’s chest dreamily, her eyes closed as she is still holding on to him. “Some of us can actually hold our extremely small amount of liquor,” I add.

I freeze.

I want to kick myself.I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have said that.She’s not one of my mates, to tease about her alcohol tolerance—she’s barely had any before.

But her sisters and I did make a pact to try and cry less. And what is the best way not to cry? To laugh instead. Although, was that funny? Or was it too close to the trauma of a girl who didn’t have access to a club, or, indeed, any friends to sneak her in there, until a few years ago?

Who wasn’t even twenty-one until barely a month ago?

Eden’s eyes widen, and she suddenly looks more awake than before. Then she starts laughing, her face still a mask of shock. Walter chuckles quietly behind her.

“Did you just crack a joke about me not knowing how to bedrunk?” Eden flicks my arm with her hand. “Literally two months after me turning twenty-one?”

I glance at Walter. He is still smiling, but when his eyes meet mine, I find something in them that I apparently was looking for: Approval.

“That’s what you get,” I shrug at Eden, “when you hang out with A-listers.”

“Not to mention Mr. Darcy,” Walter agrees.

“Mr. Dar—Weston Spencer,” Eden corrects herself, looking disgusted at what she almost called Spencer, “did not touch a drop of alcohol tonight. Neither did Ari. And I remember that your brother doesn’t drink at all, either, Isaiah.” She flicks my arm again. “I see why now!”

I arrest her finger midair and close my fingers around her wrist. My laughter is cut short. My breath catches as our skins meet. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe. Was this room always so small? My cheeks grow warm, the blood rushing to my neck and face.

“Shower,” Walter says quietly, “then bed.”

He presses Eden close to him and kisses her cheek. Then he gives me The LookTMand heads upstairs. I do not dare disobey him. I don’t even look at Eden on my way to the guest room. Gosh, this is going to be a long night. Or, well, early morning.

I take the longest cold shower anyone has ever taken in this house or, indeed, the planet, and I am still not ready to step outside and spend the next five hours in a quiet house with Eden two steps away, sleeping in her bed, possibly wearing nothing but a—

Nope.Another shower it is.

I get back in and turn on the icy water at full blast. I tilt my face towards it, nearly drowning myself in the process. Even that doesn’t help. I can’t stop thinking about her.

Suddenly, the pressure drops, and I realize that maybe Eden is trying to shower too, and I’ve been hogging all the water. The cold water, but still. I turn it off, rendering all my work here useless, since I am now thinking about Eden in the shower—great job, Isaiah!—and towel myself off.

I am still trying to control my thoughts as I stumble out into the semi-dark hallway, my towel wrapped around my waist, and collide into a piece of furniture.

“Ow!” it says.

Wait, it’s not a piece of—

“Eden!” I whimper, as she turns on the light.

She is barefoot, in cute Christmas pajamas, her hair wet. My hand goes to my towel, and so do her eyes. She blushes furiously; my head goes down.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were upstairs,” I say. “Did you, did—” Nope. Can’t talk.

“I was coming to ask if you—” She can’t either. The tips of her ears are redder than the Christmas lights blinking in the next room.

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