Page 55 of Tempted By Eden

Fuck.

I want to collapse into bed and forget this whole night ever happened. But the pungent, sour smell of vomit in my hair hits me like a slap, making me grimace. There’s no way I can sleep like this.

Somehow I peel myself off the door and drag my feet toward my bedroom, the wooden floorboards creaking under my heels. But as I pass Leo’s room, instinct kicks in. My feet stop of their own accord, and I hover outside his door, staring at the faint light of his nightlight spilling into the hallway.

For a moment, I consider skipping it. I’m too tired, too wrecked. But then I think about his little face, his peaceful expression when he’s sleeping, and I can’t resist. I turn the knob and push the door open, just a crack.

Leo is curled up under his dinosaur blanket, one hand gripping his stuffed giraffe. His tiny chest rises and falls with each gentle breath, his face serene, completely unaware of the chaos his mother has just brought on herself. Watching him like this, so peaceful, so innocent, a lump forms in my throat. For a moment, I hate myself. I hate myself for being reckless, for almost making tonight a disaster, for being a woman with vomit in her hair instead of someone he can count on.

I step inside, my heels sinking into the carpet as I approach his bed. Leaning over, I gently brush a lock of dark hair off his forehead. I press a soft kiss to his temple, the catastrophe of the night momentarily slipping away.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though he’s too deep in sleep to hear me. “I’ll do better.”

Straightening up, I back out of the room and pull the door quietly behind me, leaving it slightly ajar. The moment I step into the hallway, though, exhaustion hits me. I’m running on fumes, my body aching for rest, but I still need to clean myself up.

The bathroom light is blinding, and I wince at my reflection in the mirror. Mascara streaks down my cheeks like black tears. My skin is blotchy, red patches blooming across my face, and the dark shadows under my eyes make me look like I haven’t slept in days.

But the worst part is the hair. The vomit.Ugh. It’s clumped in chunks near the ends of my curls, and the smell makes me gag all over again. I should shower, but the mere thought of standing under hot water is too much right now.

Instead, I settle for the bare minimum—pulling off my clothes and dragging a damp towel through my hair to clean out the worst of it. The towel comes away stained, and I cringe, throwing it into the laundry hamper with a sigh.

At least the smell isn’t as overpowering now.

I shuffle out of the bathroom in my underwear and pull an oversized T-shirt from my dresser. It’s soft and comforting against my skin, exactly what I need. I collapse into bed with a groan, burying my face in the pillow, but the events of the night keep playing on my mind, refusing to let me rest.

James.

The way he looked at me in the police station, his anger, his fear, the vulnerability in his voice—it all replays on a loop, cutting deeper each time. And then his question.Do you have a problem with alcohol?

I don’t. Do I?

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to hold back the flood of memories of Nathan, our reckless, drunken night and our foolish attempt to work the next day. Buttonight wasn’t like that. Tonight was just… a stupid mistake. A one-off.

But still, I can’t shake off James’s words, the way his hands gripped my arms like he was scared to lose me.

Scared to lose me.

That thought sticks.

He cares.

And somehow, that makes everything worse.

I groan again, louder this time, pressing my face harder into the pillow as if that might block out the mess in my head. Sleep won’t come easily tonight. Not with everything swirling around me like this. Not with the hurt I caused James still fresh in my mind, and the fear that I might lose him for good hanging over my head like a dark cloud.

Eventually the exhaustion wins. My body gives in, and I drift into a restless, uneasy sleep, haunted by the chaos I caused.

Chapter twenty-nine

Cora

Iwake with adull pressure building behind my eyes. My head feels sluggish, and the events of last night play in my mind like a broken record. I can’t stop hearing James’s voice, the sharp hint of fear in it:You could’ve been hurt, Cora. The way he looked at me. The disappointment in his eyes. It clings to me, refusing to let go.

I stare at the ceiling, struggling to clear the fog of exhaustion. Last night was a disaster. I can’t afford another mistake—Leo needs me to do better.

With a measured breath, I push myself out of bed, my legs heavy, like they’re wading through thick mud. The sun is just beginning to rise, its pale light filtering through the curtains.

I shuffle down the hall, the cold floor biting at my bare feet. Leo’s door is cracked open, just like I left it last night. I peek inside and see him still fast asleep.

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