From the deck, the opening chords of Linkin Park’s “Bleed It Out” blasted from the sound system. Cameron was manning the music and pumped the air. “Tune,” he yelled, pointing his arm at Killian.
A look passed between Sawyer and Killian who was rubbing the back of his neck.
“Change it, Cam,” Sawyer instructed.
“It’s okay,” Killian said.
“Change it,” Sawyer said again.
Cam looked perplexed, but he changed the music.
“What’s wrong with that song?” I asked Killian.
“It was my walkout song. It’s not a big deal.”
I wrapped an arm around his waist and took a sip of my beer. “Is this hard for you?”
He kissed me on the lips. “No.”
But I didn’t believe him. Everyone was reminding him about the life he’d had before, a life he’d loved but couldn’t go back to because he felt too guilty. If, for some reason, I couldn’t do my art anymore, I’d be a little lost. Maybe it wasn’t the same, and you couldn’t compare it, but art was my passion in the same way MMA had been for Killian. Since I’d moved to Brooklyn, it had become even more important in my life. Jared asked me to paint a mural on the side of his tattoo shop when I got back to Brooklyn. I knew it was Killian’s idea, and that he’d asked Jared if I could do it. I only knew that because Jared told me. I wanted to find a way to help Killian find a new passion, but I had no idea how to do that.
He pulled me in front of him and wrapped his arms around me, my back against his chest. “Stop worrying,” he murmured in my ear.
I leaned back against him and we talked and joked with my old friends and my brothers.
“Eden was the queen bee of our high school,” Cassidy said, and I caught a tone in her voice that crossed over the line of friendly. She was obviously in Lexie’s camp now.
“Well, duh,” Brianna said, coming to my defense. “Eden rocks.”
“We rocked it together,” I said.
“Yeah, we did, babe.” She grinned at me, then jerked her head towards Cassidy, raising her eyebrows.
I shrugged. Sawyer and Garrett recounted a few stupid childhood tales, all at my expense might I add, that got us all laughing and dispelled whatever tension Cassidy had created.
“She was hell on wheels,” Sawyer told Killian. “Hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“I’ve calmed down a lot. I’m a mature, responsible adult now.”
Sawyer and Killian cracked up over that one, although I hadn’t been trying to be funny. I elbowed Killian in the ribs. “Just for that, you’re eating cake tomorrow.”
“No cake.”
I smirked. “You’re getting the Eden Madley birthday special.”
He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Your naked body wrapped in a bow?”
“That can be arranged.”
“You’re the gift that keeps on giving.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
Later that night, alone in my bedroom, I watched through my open window as Sawyer and Killian disappeared into the woods behind our house, a bottle of Jack Daniels in Sawyer’s hand. They’d bonded just like I’d hoped they would.
I changed into a tank top and sleep shorts and lay on my bed like a starfish, my body sticky from the August heat and humidity. It was so quiet here. I missed the noise of the city, the lullaby that rocked me to sleep now—the early morning garbage trucks, sirens, and the constant hum of voices and traffic. I missed the smell of Brooklyn—the pungent aroma of cheese from the shop across from Brickwood Coffee, roasted pork from Jimmy’s taco truck, garbage and asphalt, the scent of freshly baked bread in Greenpoint on early Sunday mornings when I stayed at Killian’s.
As much as I love my family, being back here made me realize that Brooklyn is my home now. I was grateful that I wasn’t stuck in small-town Pennsylvania, living with Luke’s parents, looking after a baby at the age of twenty-two.