Page 30 of There's No Us Without You
When I’m in the clear, I lean against the wall and suck in some much-needed oxygen.
Eden belongs here. I know that much.
Something has been missing for a while—probably why I fill my life with one-night stands—but is Eden that missing thing? Even though I know next to nothing about her, I can’t ignore my need to gravitate towards her.
It’s not just physical, though. Something inside her calls to me. Maybe it’s just her sadness that has me wanting to hold on to her. It’s in the way she carries herself, the smile she uses to cover up the fact she wants nothing more than to not have to pretend. I’d say she’s had plenty of practice faking it.
A lot like me right now, I guess.
EIGHT
Eden
Emerson ison the couch when I come downstairs the next morning, his mop of dark curls hanging over his forehead while he scrolls through his phone.
A tall white mug sits on the glass coffee table in front of him. My stomach churns. There’s no way I can put anything in my mouth until after I collect all my things from Kent’s house.
If it wasn’t for Emerson agreeing to come with me this morning, I’d still be in bed, hiding under the covers. I thought seeing him after what transpired last night would be embarrassing; however, if anything, I’m more content than I’ve been in years.
Emerson glances up, his wide smile making me pause. When he stands and stretches, his T-shirt riding up, I get a glimpse of that stomach I’ve come to look forward to seeing.
Will I ever get used to his beauty? And I’m not just referring to his looks. His heart is beautiful as well. He doesn’t know me from a bar of soap, but the way he comforted me last night made me realise he’s nothing like Kent.
I haven’t cried in my sleep since my nanna died two years ago. Kent had no idea what to do with me, so instead, he chose to sleep in the guest bedroom. Apparently, he couldn’t deal with my “episodes,” as he came to call them.
Before that, it was when my dad passed away. Kent wasn’t around then. But my mother sure was.
She caught me sobbing in the bathroom one morning after Dad’s funeral, and her face contorted, letting me know just how displeased she was with my outburst. She grabbed my upper arms, her bony fingers digging into my soft flesh, and told me to stop being such a baby. People die all the time and there’s no room for wallowing in your grief.
Life goes on.
After that, I hid everything from her. Then at night, in the safety of my room, I could let it all out. I’d wake in the middle of the night, clutching my pillow, tears streaming down my chubby cheeks.
My body has gotten so used to letting it all out in my sleep that the night terrors only happen when I need an emotional release. I guess losing your fiancé to your mother warrants one of those, right?
With Emerson, though, he feels safe, like he wouldn’t judge me for crying. Christ, I cried the very first night I met him, and he hugged me like he’d known me for a lifetime, not for five minutes.
“You ready?” Emerson says, shoving his phone into the pocket of his grey shorts, his shining hazel eyes searching mine.
“As I’ll ever be.” The smile I try on falls flat, so I take a deep breath to settle my racing heart.
What I’m about to do has me tempted to sayfuck itand buy a whole new wardrobe.
If only I could afford to.
No. I need to do this—rip the Band-Aid off.
Emerson tilts his head, lowering it slightly as he moves towards me. He rubs my upper arms. “You’ve got this, okay? And I’ll be right there with you.”
I nod, giving him a tight smile. “I’ve got this.”
Except, I don’t feel as though I’ve got anything. What Idofeel is like throwing up.
With a wink, Emerson turns and heads for the door, grabbing his sports bag off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder before motioning for me to follow. “You don’t mind coming to training afterwards? Don’t really have time to drop you home.”
“Really?” I say, my mood picking up. “I’d love to.”
Grinning, he gives me a nudge. “Don’t get too excited. It’s only a bunch of sweaty men kicking balls at each other.”
