Page 98 of Forgive Me Father
Mortified, I duck my head, fumbling with the register screen, trying to gather my scattered thoughts.
"What can I get going for you?" I ask, my voice shaky as I focus on the task at hand.
"Eden?"
My heart stops.
All the anger that had been simmering in my veins instantly morphs into paralyzing fear.
I force myself to look up from the register, my breath catching in my throat as I take an involuntary step back, my body trembling uncontrollably.
Eric.
He found me.
He looks just like he always has—brown hair slicked back, his deep dark eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. The face that’s haunted my nightmares for so long is standing right in front of me, and I can’t breathe, can’t think.
"Eden, are you okay?" Zoey’s voice is distant, barely penetrating the fog of terror engulfing me.
"E-Eric—" The word stumbles from my lips, a broken echo of the name that has haunted me.
Memories crash over me—his hands pinning me down, the weight of his body suffocating me, my body being violated.
"E-Eric—"
The world spins, my vision blurs, and my body crumples to the ground. The last thing I hear is Zoey’s panicked voice, calling my name, as everything fades into nothing.
1 Peter 5:8: "Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary, the Devil, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour."
Chapter 26
Roman
There's no time for anyone to react as Eden collapses, her body crumpling toward the counter. The sickening thud of her head hitting the edge echoes through the café, freezing everyone in place. Zoey’s eyes dart up to mine, wide with fear.
Moving without a second thought, I shove past the brunette man who’s standing too close, who’d watched Eden fall with a disturbing lack of concern. I reach her side in an instant, kneeling beside her, my hands trembling as I grab a napkin to press against the wound on her forehead.
Zoey looks scared, her hands shaking as she clutches the rag in her hand. "I have no idea what happened. She was fine, then she started taking an order—"
"Give me a cold washcloth," The brunette man orders, trying to take control of the situation as he moves toward us with unsettling calmness.
He bends down, reaching for Eden as if he’s going to take over, but the very sight of him touching her makes my blood boil.
"Get your fucking hands away from her," I snap, my voice sharp, louder than I intended.
Zoey blinks in confusion, clearly rattled, as she hands the man a rag. His expression hardens, his annoyance with me barely masked.
"She's my girlfriend," He snaps back, the words slicing through me like a blade, igniting a fire in my chest.
I know what this boy represents. At college, Eden was involved with someone—a boy who hurt her, who nearly pushed her to the brink of suicide that day in that park. A boy who left permanent scars, both physical and emotional. And now, here he is, acting like he has any right to be near her.
"She's not your girlfriend," Zoey interjects, her voice firm, cutting through the haze of my rage. "Why don't you get the hell away and let us handle this—"
"Roman," A familiar, grating voice cuts in.
David stands behind the counter, hands casually tucked in his pockets, his expression unreadable, as if Eden’s collapse is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.
"Eric, step back and let them handle it. It's just a cut," David says, his tone dripping with indifference.
