Page 233 of There's No Us Without You
If I don’t leave now, I never will. My heart is being torn apart by watching this man fall apart in front of me. As much as he needs me right now, he needs me out of his life more. I’m not good for him.
“I’m sorry,” I say, ducking out the front door—no longer able to bear the pain—and into the cold night air to let my tears break free.
The Uber I called is waiting for me, so I climb in and direct them where to go. We pull up half an hour later in front of my mother’s house.
I never thought I’d end up back here, but I have nowhere else to go. It’s ironic I would end up back in the arms of the person who has caused me the most pain in the world. Worse than any hate Will could throw at me, this woman kept me a prisoner in my own body for years.
But I only need a couple of weeks to regroup and decide what I’m going to do. I’m going to stick to my plan on getting the restaurant back. That’s now my main priority, as it should have been before my life became so complicated.
I won’t give up on what I want. I need this now more than ever. Something to keep believing in, because right now I have nothing else to hold on to.
My suitcase drags behind me as I make my way up to the front of the house. I take a deep breath and knock twice.
My mother answers the door a few moments later, her eyes going wide as she takes in my tear-stained face and suitcase standing next to me. “Eden? What happened?”
I let out another sob, and for once my mother looks empathetic.
“Oh, sweetheart.” She wraps her slender arms around me and pulls me inside. “Come on, let’s get you a hot cup of tea.”
SIXTY-FIVE
Will
When I pullup outside my father’s house, it takes only seconds for me to storm through the front door and down the hall to the back room. My chest is heaving, my breathing and heart rate irregular as I stand there, frozen, my hands fisted at my sides.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. After the police took our statements and Tyler’s body was removed from the scene, I couldn’t stand one more second of staring at the pool of my brother’s blood drying on the grass on my front lawn—a visceral reminder of what I just lost.
One minute he was there, the next he was gone.
I didn’t even get the chance to say I’m sorry, not in the way I would have liked.
All these years I’ve been holding on to so much anger, and for what? Losing my mother’s ring is insignificant compared to losing my brother.
Fuck.
My father lost a son today, so I’m going to be the one to shove it in his face. I hope he chokes on the pain, just as it’s eating away at me.
I swing the door open and stalk straight towards him. He blinks at me, and I hate that I have no idea what’s going through his head.
He tracks me with those wide grey eyes, the same ones that pinned me to the spot when I was younger. When I reach the side of his bed, I swear there’s a flicker of recognition before the blank stare falls back into place.
“This is your fucking fault,” I say as I get into his face, spit flying. “Do you hear me, you sonofabitch? This is all your fault. If you were a proper father, I wouldn’t have lost my brother tonight.”
I want to smash his fucking face in until he’s unrecognisable. I want to burn this goddamn house down with him in it until it’s just a memory of what used to be here.
All the pain Tyler and I suffered.
All the nights we went to bed hungry would just be a memory. Forever gone in the smoke and rubble.
Tyler deserved better than this piece of shit.
My lungs are burning, hands shaking. And I can’t fucking breathe. I can’t even think straight.
Tears stream down my face, and my knees buckle beneath me, sending me onto the floor beside the bed. My kneecaps slam against the worn carpet, the sharp pains shooting up my thighs a welcome distraction.
I let out everything I’ve had bottled up for the last twenty-three years. It comes rushing out of me—the hatred, the humiliation.
The guilt.
