Page 68 of No Mistakes
“You okay?” she asks quietly.
I open my mouth, ready to lie and tell her everything is okay. But I lost her once by lying. I’m not going to let that happen again.
“No.”
She walks in, and I move to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, hands locked together.
I don’t look at her. I can’t.
“It’s hard to hate you,” she says, voice soft. “I’m trying, but for some reason. I can’t.”
“I would hate me forever,” I murmur.
She kneels in front of me, her hands brushing against my thighs. “Why did you never come back here?”
I glance down towards her, our eyes locking. The sight of her alone nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“Because I was too busy making sure they didn’t end up like me.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t flinch.
“Why do you always have to be the one who takes the hit?” she asks.
“Someone has to.”
We don’t say anything, my words hanging heavy in the air. Eva lifts herself slowly, moving my hands to straddle my lap. Her hands frame my face, stopping me from looking away.
“Look, Axel. I’m not the type of girl who expects the world,” she whispers. “All I’m asking for is for you to let me in. Even if it’s just a crack.”
My fingers dig into her waist. The weight of this house, the past, the expectations… It all threatens to crush me. But she’s here. And somehow, her presence makes it bearable.
“I don’t know how,” I admit.
“I’ll wait,” she says, brushing her lips against mine. “I won’t walk away again, Axel, as long as you let me in when I ask.”
The kiss isn’t urgent. It’s a question, a promise, a thread tying us together tighter than before. My hands tangle in her hair, my mouth answering hers, and for the first time since stepping back into this house, I feel something other than rage.
I feel peace.
Her lips hover against mine for a second longer, like she’s not ready to let go of this moment. She pulls back slowly, resting her forehead against mine. “They’re waiting for you downstairs.”
I exhale through my nose and nod. Of course they fucking are.
She brushes her thumb along my cheekbone before sliding off my lap. The space between us stretches like an elastic band threatening to snap.
I watch as she straightens her shift, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly looking far too composed for someone who just had her mouth on mine.
“I’ll go first,” she says, turning towards the door.
I don’t stop her. I just sit there for a moment longer, dragging a hand over my face, preparing myself for what is to come.
I stand, grabbing my jacket from where I’d tossed it on the bed. My fingers brush the familiar fabric of the collar, soft, worn, older than most of the scars on my body. It belonged to my father once, back before everything turned to blood and ash.
The closer I get to the stairs, the louder the voices become. Mandy is laughing, Carter is saying something so quiet, not even a mouse can hear it, and someone is already opening and slamming doors, which sounds suspiciously like a liquor cabinet.
By the time I enter the living room, Eva’s already across the room, standing beside Mandy next to the fireplace. She glances up when I enter, and there’s something unreadable in her expression. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t wave, but her eyes don’t look away either. They stay locked on mine as I walk further into the room.
Carter raises a brow, halfway through removing the white sheets from the furniture. “You survived the ghosts then?”
