Page 172 of Entangled

Heather stares at me, stunned, and I grin as I turn back around.

Right in time to see Eden, looking up from amid her pile of fallen things. Her eyes widen as she sees me coming toward her.

Heather has the meeting handled.

Right now, myfriendneeds help.

Chapter39

Eden

Survival tip #93

Time—and therapy—heal all wounds.

Eden, Eden. You’re okay, darlin’. Just breathe.”

My hands strangle the sheets. It takes me too long to realize I’m awake and staring at the ceiling, at the dark. I still see Logan holding a gun to my head, Sam’s specter cast against a cliff as he roused his men into a fury... men stalking toward Heather as I left her to die.

Hot tears leak from the corners of my eyes, spilling onto the bed.

“Breathe, Eden. That’s it—in and out. Look at me, pet.”

I force my gaze to Beau, and he smiles for me. It’s tight, and there are unhappy lines at the corners of his eyes, but I can see how hard he’s trying to keep it there.

“Good girl, just like that.”

I pull in a long, slow breath, then another. The shadows are gathered all around Beau like a cloak, but he’s warm and real and beautiful beside me. He smells delicious, he smells likeus, in this intangible way. Like by living together, our scents are permanently mixed, slightly altered, to always carry one another.

The thought of that helps steady me too.

Slowly, I sit up, and he passes me a glass of cool water from my bedside, kissing my forehead as I sip it.

Beau strokes my thigh under his shirt that I’m wearing as a nightshirt. “Eden, I’ve been patient, I truly have, but you need to talk about this with someone. Whatever this is... it’s eating you up.”

“I’ve been working on it,” I say, a little defensively.

Every night, I’ve been going through Jasper’s workbook, and it isn’t as though that has been easy. Some of it goes even further back beyond the last few weeks—it would be an understatement to say it hasn’t been dredging some things up.

Beau nods. “I know you have, darlin’. But at the end of the day, that is just one book. It’s not much better than googling your symptoms and then self-treating at home. You need direction.”

Swallowing, I look at the workbook as cold sweat cools on my skin.

Beau is right. Working in the garden, sparring, the workbook, it’s all helped, but it’s not enough. It’s only been a week, of course, and my reading tells me that these things can take time. But I’m struggling, and I do have resources in front of me that I haven’t had the courage to use.

Perhaps it’s unfair of me. Jasper has been nothing but thoughtful and considerate—with me, with the other civilians... and about Lucky. He wants to help, and I don’t want to feel like this. It’s logical. Simple, even.

But it’shard.

Jasper is beautiful. Wickedly intelligent. Cultured. How am I meant to show him all the ugly parts of myself, when I want so desperately for him to see me as beautiful too? I know the burn of his rejection, and I’m terrified to face it again.

Not to mention... I know his reservations about his patients. If I talk to him, will that close the door once and for all on this tension between us? Whereisthe line between talking to him as a friend and confidant and as a psychologist?

I stifle a sigh and put the thought from my mind. He isn’t my lover, and I doubt he’ll ever be. It’s vain of me to hold out for such an insubstantial reason—just another example of my fear holding me back.

I’m too aware now of the momentum at Bristlebrook. In myself. Jaykob arrives back tomorrow. Lucky is awaiting an answer. The “bond-fire” is almost set up. And at any moment, we could find ourselves at war.

I should take the time now, while there stillistime.

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