Page 169 of Haunt Me

“Way to be cool, as we discussed.” He slaps me on the back.

The waves roar behind us as the tide comes in, and we stand there, watching the two of them walk away, talking quietly to each other, exhausted but happy. Intimate. The way only couples who really know each other well can be. Wes is completely drenched, his white Mr. Darcy shirt clinging to his chest like second skin, but he drapes two towels and a robe over his girl first.

Theo and Oliver Sikks—Ollie—come over to talk to Eden, and I try not to act too desperate. Apparently, I fail, because the guys look at each other and leave us alone after laughing softly to each other. Yeah, I’d like to see howtheybehave when they fall completely head over heels for a girl.

They’d probably be worse than me, although I honestly don’t think anyone can be worse than me. Worse at being completely in love with a girl.

“Want to walk with me?” I ask Eden, my voice shaking with need.

Keep it together.

But I can’t. I’ve known I was done for since pretty much the second or third time I saw her, but I was a teen then, and this is now. Now, I am a man. A man who belongs to her.

“Ah,” she says, tilting her head back and taking a deep smell of the ocean. “How veryPersuasioncoded this place is.”

“I wish I didn’t know what that means, because that would make me so much cooler,” I laugh.

“It would not.”

“The thing is, I know exactly which scene you are referring to. That scene in Lyme, where Captain Wentworth tries and fails to pretend he doesn’t care that Anne is standing two feet from him, by the waves?”

“Exactly right,” she smiles up at me. “I taught you well.”

“’Forced me’ would be more accurate, but either way, here we are. Knowing all of Austen’s heroes as if they are part of our family tree.”

“They might as well be,” Eden says, “for all I knew about my family until recently.”

I stutter. Since when can she laugh about it? Is it ok to? Are we allowed—well, she is. She can do anything she likes. And, apparently, what she wants to do is laugh at the whole sordid mess.

“Are you still breathing over there?” Eden asks, eyes still shut. “Did I shock you?”

“You did,” I admit. We start walking along the shore, the waves spraying us with salty water. “I think you might be the only person who can shock me at this point. But boy, do you steal my breath.”

“Do you not think I can get better?” she asks me and I stop walking.

“Look at me please, Eden.” She does. I swallow, picking my words correctly.Please, God, don’t let me mess this up. I’ll only get one chance. “I have never once thought of you as someone whoneeds to ‘get better’. I think you are amazing and strong. And brave. And that you can do anything you decide to do.”

She takes a deep breath, and I can see her brain fighting what I am telling her. I’ll say it again and again, until she believes me.

“You are not someone who needs ‘to get better’,” I repeat. “But you are in pain, and I can’t stand it. I know it won’t last forever. It will get more bearable, more manageable. I don’t know if it will ever completely disappear, but you are living your life in spite of it,withit, and that amazes the hell out of me.”

She just looks at me, her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Maybe no one has ever put it to her this way, although if her therapists haven’t, I would like to strangle them. Or maybe they have, but coming from me, it’s sinking in. I hope that’s true, even though I am an idiot who can’t express half the things he feels right now.

“I think you are perfect as you are,” I say. “So, no, I don’t think you need to get better. But I think you are getting even stronger and more amazing with every passing day. With every victory. I am… I have no words to describe what it feels like to see you blossom into this gorgeous woman, even from afar. You strike me speechless, Eden.” These last words are a hoarse whisper. I am overcome with so much emotion, I can barely say them.

“By ‘afar’,” Eden observes dryly, “I’m guessing you mean the sneaky texts Fee sends you.”

“Not so sneaky, it seems.” I smirk.

“She tells me everything before she sends off her little texts to you. Asks for my permission, if you can believe it.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

We walk quietly for a bit. Eden takes off her shoes as we walk closer to the surf. I pick them up and carry them in one hand, wordlessly. Eden bends down to pick up a shell from the wet sand; it’s broken in half.

“Did you know that you can still break after you’re broken?” she says, turning the broken piece over in her fingers.

“Eden…” I cover her hand with mine. My fingers are almost twice as long as hers, closing around her fist. Her skin is ice cold.

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