Saving Forever (The Ever Trilogy: Book 3)

by Jasinda Wilder

  “I didn’t do anything,” Eden protested. “For real. I didn’t.”

  I rounded the corner, scuffing my foot on the floor on purpose. Both women started and glanced back at me. I handed Julie enough cash to cover the bill and then some. Eden stood and waved at Julie, then accompanied me to my car.

  “You heard us talking about you?” she said, once we were heading north.

  I shrugged. “Yeah. People talk. It’s fine.”

  Eden glanced at me, a worried expression on her face. “I didn’t tell her anything. About what you said to me, I mean. She asked me how I’d gotten you to talk, and I just told her I didn’t know.”

  “It’s fine, Eden.”

  “I just didn’t want you to think I’d talk about you.”

  “It’s not a secret.”

  “But it is private.” She tugged on the seatbelt, loosening it and letting it snap back into place.

  “Yeah, guess so.” I felt strangely exhausted, and couldn’t offer up any more conversation. Eden seemed content to ride in silence, a quality I appreciated.

  I pulled up in front of her house, left the truck idling, and walked her up to her door.

  “Thanks for dinner,” she said, not quite looking directly at me.

  “No problem.” I was tongue-tied now, as if telling Eden my story had sapped me of words. I was confused as to what it was about her that seemed to draw me out, pull things from me. And I was still reeling from the renewed onslaught of pain and guilt that the memory of Britt’s death engendered.

  I backed away, glancing at Eden as I went down the porch steps.

  She stopped me with a touch to my elbow. “Are you okay?”

  I shrugged. “As okay as ever.”

  She seemed to be struggling to find the right words. “Guilt sucks.”

  Not what I expected her to say. “Yeah, it does.” I’d expected her to offer up the same old “it wasn’t your fault” platitudes that people seemed to think I needed to hear.

  It was my fault. I could’ve prevented it, could’ve saved her, if I’d only gone home earlier. Nothing could change that essential truth, and nothing could lessen the pain. Only the time would bring me any kind of healing.

  I wanted to ask her what she knew about guilt, what had happened to put such pain in her eyes. But I didn’t. Instead, I waved at her. “See you tomorrow.”

  She offered a small, tight smile and a little wave. She stood on her porch and watched me drive away. I wondered if I was imagining the regret I thought I saw in her eyes.

  a pregnant pause

  Despite everything, we settled into a pattern. I’d show up early in the morning, my truck bed full of supplies. I’d started taking the boat to the mainland, to save time and because the reno work was tiring, if satisfying. She’d be dressed, with coffee ready, and we’d sit on her porch talking and drinking coffee as the sun rose behind us. We never let the conversation get heavy, though. I never pried into her story, nor she into mine. We talked about music, about movies and books. Our favorite bands, favorite actors and actresses. Even with Britt, I hadn’t been this open, this talkative, but something about Eden made it easy for me to just talk.

  When I finished my coffee, I’d get to work. It took me three days to finish her roof, and then I started on her porch. I was qualified to do roofing work, but I disliked it. Building her a new porch, however, was different. I ripped the old rotten structure apart and had the basic frame of the new one built in one day. The next day I finished the build, then sanded and stained it.

  After a day’s work we’d eat dinner together, usually at the Grill. As the days turned into a week, I managed to get the complete exterior repainted, but Eden seemed more and more reticent to leave her house. She was closed off, hard to read, hard to gauge. Every moment she spent with me, she seemed to be at war with herself. It was as if she wanted to hang out with me, but kept trying to come up with some compelling reason not to. I couldn’t figure it out, and I refused to pry. So I kept working also but kept asking myself why I was doing all this for someone I barely knew. It was a question Eden asked me frequently as well, but I didn’t have any answers.

  All I knew was, she never had visitors. Never took a phone call. Never got mail. Never left her house, unless it was with me, or to go to the beach, or on a run. She played cello, read books, and talked to me sporadically…and very little else. I don’t think I ever saw her leave the peninsula, or go south of the Grill.

  Something told me she was hiding, but from what? From whom?

  I desperately wanted to know.

  As the days passed, I also noticed changes in her, physically. Her clothing got progressively looser and more conservative. Gone were the spandex workout shorts and sports bra. Gone was the bikini. We’d gone swimming together the other day, and she’d worn a cover-up dress until she’d gone into the water and, even then, she’d faced away from me until the water hid her body. She seemed…ashamed of herself somehow. And I couldn’t fathom why. Why would a woman as stunningly beautiful as Eden be self-conscious? And why so suddenly? It had been a noticeable transformation, to me at least.

  Still, I never asked questions. She’d respected my privacy, and I would respect hers. I worried for her, though. She was vulnerable. She was clearly trying to project an aura of self-sufficiency, but it was a thin veneer at best.

  Once the outside of Eden’s house was taken care of, I turned my focus to the inside. Her floors needed redoing, badly. So I started in the bathroom and spare bedroom, ripping out dated, threadbare carpeting in the bedroom and the scuffed, peeling laminate in the bathroom. I left the old scratched and gouged hardwood floor in the bedrooms that lay beneath the carpeting and put down tile in the bathroom, one-inch squares in a complex pattern of slate gray and sky blue. Eden sat on her couch and read a book, a thick, dog-eared romance novel, what my mom would call a “bodice ripper,” and watched me work.

  “You’re seriously crazy, Carter.”

  I looked up at her from the bathroom floor, where I was laying down caulk around the tub. “Why?”

  “All this work. It’s nuts. You really need to stop.” She slid her index finger between pages to mark her place. “How much have you spent on materials?”

  I went back to caulking, adding up mentally. “Not as much as you’d think. My brothers and I are building a tasting room for the winery, so a lot of the materials have come from there. I’m not worried.”

  “But I am. You keep brushing me off, saying it’s fine, you’re not worried. But you’ve spent hours and hours every day for almost two weeks, and I don’t even know why. I can’t…I can’t repay you. And I can’t be—I mean there can’t—god. Between you and me. This can’t be what you want.”

  I didn’t answer until I’d finished caulking. I stood up, brushed off my knees and washed my hands in the sink, and then sat down next to Eden on the couch. I scratched at a ribbon of dried grout on the back of my hand. “Honestly, I don’t really have an answer for why. It needs to be done. You can’t live in a house that’s falling apart and leaking. That roof would’ve given way with the first heavy snow. The insulation beneath it is molding. It’s unhealthy and unsafe. The floors in here are just as bad. I think some of the paint on the walls is lead-based. Also super unhealthy.” I glanced at her, took in her fearful, worried expression. “I mean, as long as you don’t, like, eat the paint, it’ll be fine. But it needs repainting.” I sighed. “Look, I enjoy this kind of work. It’s what I do. I’m a carpenter, a builder. It’s what I’ve done my whole life. So it’s not even really work for me. And I don’t want you to repay me. Just spending time with me is payment enough.”

  “That’s just it, Carter.” Eden shifted, curling her legs beneath her butt. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about…this.” She gestured between herself and me. “It can’t…I’m not—”

  I held up my hand to stop her. “That’s fine. You don’t even have to say it.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask why?”

 
; I shrugged. “Nope. It’s your business. If you’re not interested in telling me, then you’re not. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna quit helping you midway through the remodel.”

  Eden groaned, letting her head thump back onto the couch. “Goddammit, Carter. You can’t fucking remodel my house just because. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” I held her gaze and refused to look away. “I don’t know who you’re hiding from, or why, and it’s none of my business. But you are hiding. You need help. This is the help I can give you, and the reasons why are my own.”

  “I’m not hiding,” Eden protested.

  I just laughed, a sarcastic bark. “I didn’t take you for a liar.”

  She ducked her head, sniffed. “You should go.”

  I let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Eden, I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m not mad. I’m just…tired. And not feeling well.” She glanced up at me, wiped a finger beneath her eye. “I’m fine, Carter. I promise. I just need to rest. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  She looked pale, bags under her eyes. I stared at her, remembering Britt, remembering similar words. “Maybe I should stay for a while,” I said.

  Eden’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit. No, it’s not like that. I’m fine, I swear. I’m just tired. I’ll make some tea and read in bed.”

  I stood up and went into her kitchen. I remembered seeing a box of chamomile tea in a cabinet. I put water on to boil and found a clean mug, a tea bag. “Go lie down,” I told her.

  “Carter, you don’t have to—”

  “Just go lie down. Please.”

  Eden hesitated, her expression torn between tender and terrified. After a moment, she disappeared into her bedroom. I heard the door close, then silence as she changed. The door opened again, and she reappeared wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. The water boiled, and I poured it over the teabag as she retrieved her book, then followed her into her bedroom with the scalding hot tea.

  “Carter, you don’t have to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” She perched on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked beneath her thigh.

  I set the mug on the bedside table. “I made you a cup of tea. That’s hardly taking care of you.” I stuck my hand in the hip pocket of my jeans. “Besides, everyone needs someone to take care of them.”

  “Who takes care of you?”

  “My brothers, if I need something.” I dismissed the topic with a wave, not wanting to talk about me.

  “Well, thank you. For the tea, and for everything.” She took the mug in her hands, watching me as she blew across the top.

  “It’s nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “Why don’t you take a day off? I’m sure you have other work to do.”

  “Tired of me already?” I teased.

  “No!” she just about yelled in protest. She tried again more quietly. “No. I just—I need…space.”

  She wasn’t tired of seeing me, but needed space. I couldn’t even begin to try to figure that one out. I just nodded. “Okay, then.” I felt hurt, a little, which was stupid. I shoved it away, then gave her a wave goodbye as I headed to the door. “I’ll see you in a day or two, then.”

  Apparently I was being too casual, because she just sighed in resignation. “Wait, Carter. You’ve been really kind to me. Too kind. And it’s confusing me. I know I don’t make any sense, but there’s just things I can’t—I mean, my life is just—” She flopped back on the bed and groaned, her hand over her face. “I can’t even make sense to myself. You must think I’m a lunatic.”

  “No,” I said. “You can’t explain, but part of you wants to. I get it. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

  “But you deserve answers, and I just can’t give them.” She stared at the ceiling as she spoke.

  “I don’t deserve anything. Don’t worry about it. Just…know that if you ever do want to…talk, I’m here. I’ll listen, and I won’t judge.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Carter.” Her voice was hard, cold.

  Another enigmatic response that I couldn’t make any sense of. “I don’t.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “I’d like to.” I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. “That’s what all this is about, Eden.”

  “If you knew me, you wouldn’t think that way.” She turned away from me, but not before I caught a glimpse of her tortured expression.

  I hesitated. She clearly wanted me to leave so she could cry alone, but for that exact reason, I didn’t want to leave. I stood staring at her back, at the hunched, defensive curl of her shoulders, the wave of blonde hair with the two-inch-long dark roots. She looked tiny and hurting and so, so vulnerable. Lonely. Afraid.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed, near her feet. “Eden. You’re not alone.”

  “Yes. I am. And I should be.”

  “That’s stupid. No one should be alone.”

  She was shaking from head to toe. “I should.”

  “Why?” There. I’d asked.

  She only shook her head, a silent denial, a refusal. “Go away, Carter. You’re wasting your time.”

  “It’s my time to waste,” I said. “I choose to waste it here.”

  I wasn’t touching her in any way, but I wanted to. I wanted to rest my hand on her calf, or her foot, or her shoulder. An innocent touch of comfort. I couldn’t walk away. I should. I knew I should. The girl had baggage, that much was clear. She had a world of hurt hidden away inside her, guilt and grief and torment.

  I let my right hand drift out, settle on her ankle.

  She flinched when my palm touched her skin, jerked away. “Don’t, Carter. Just don’t. You’re torturing yourself, and hurting me. Just go. Please, just go. Don’t come back.”

  “Eden—”

  “Please, Carter.” Desperation had never sounded so painful.

  I stood up slowly. Walked out of her room, but turned back in the doorway. Her shoulders were shaking, and I could hear sobs coming from her. I squeezed my eyes closed, wishing I could erase the sound of her crying, but knowing I wouldn’t, couldn’t. I tried to walk away, but I simply couldn’t.

  She flinched visibly at each footstep as I re-crossed the tiny bedroom. She moved toward the wall as I sat down on the bed again, shifting away from me. Her knees curled up against her chest, and she trembled all over, trying to stifle her tears. In vain.

  I sat by her hips, one knee up on the bed, the other foot on the floor, partially facing her. “I’m not leaving you like this. I can’t, and I won’t.”

  “You can’t fix this.”

  “I’m not trying to.”

  “Then what do you want from me?” She was still fighting the tears.

  “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to be here for you.”

  “Why?” The single word question was a whispered, ragged plea.

  “You’re too beautiful to be this sad.”

  Eden didn’t answer, only silently fought away the sobs. After a few minutes, she rolled toward me. Tucking one hand under her face, fixing her tormented jade eyes on me. “You’re determined to make this hard for me, aren’t you?” She smiled sadly at me.

  “Make what hard?”

  “I’m trying to push you away. For your own good.” She closed her eyes, sighed deeply, then sat up. “Fuck it. You’re going to find out eventually, so I might as well just tell you. Get it over with.”

  “Find out what?” I asked, but Eden just shook her head at me.

  “Let me talk. Don’t interrupt. Please.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, hunched over, eyes downcast. “You were right. I am hiding.”

  A long, tense pause.

  Her eyes turned up to mine. “I’m pregnant, Carter.”

  Shock rippled through me, quickly replaced by a dawning understanding. “You’re—”

  “Yeah. It’s why I moved up here.”

  “You’re pregnant. Where is—”

  “That’s
the hard part.” Eden fisted her hand into the sheets, her face contorted in pain. “Two years ago this Christmas Eve, my sister was in a car accident with her husband. It was really, really bad. She nearly died. She—she went into a coma. The doctors didn’t think she’d ever come out of it.” She paused, struggling for breath, for composure. “She’s my twin. Did I mention that? Identical twin. God, I can’t do this. Shitshitshit.” She sucked in a deep breath, let it out with a wracking shudder. “She was in a coma for a year and a half. They talked to Cade, her husband, about donating her organs. Letting her die. Cade, god, that man has been through hell. I wish I could tell you. He was injured in the accident, too. It took him months of therapy to even walk again. He—had no one. She was his only family. Parents, grandparents…he had no one. But her. And me.”

  I hated where this was going. Hated the devastation in her voice, the self-loathing in her eyes.

  “Our dad, he’s…he’s not really a part of our lives, but our life story isn’t important. There’s no—no justification or explanation for what I did. What I let it happen. I was just…I’d lost my sister. My twin. She was my best friend, my only family, the only person who cared about me. She was…never coming back, but she wasn’t dead. You can’t imagine how that feels. And Cade…god, he was falling apart. We were both a mess. And it just—it just happened. Both of us tried to…to stop it from happening. But—fuck. It wasn’t like I seduced him, I just—he was hurting, and so was I, and—”

  “Cade is the father.”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” Her voice was tiny, not even a whisper. Just an agonized breath of admission.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, with a bitter laugh.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Eden was openly crying now, tears streaming silently down her face. She didn’t try to wipe them away. Just sat cross-legged on the bed, fingers tangled together on her lap. “She woke up.”

  “Does she know?”

  “No.” Eden clawed at her face, scratching her nails down her skin so harshly I reached out and held her wrists so she couldn’t hurt herself. “She woke up. She doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. How could I tell them? How could they deal with this? She may never recover, Carter. He’s all she has, she’s all he has. They have to have each other. I—fucked everything up, Carter. I slept with my twin sister’s husband. While she was in a coma.” She jerked her wrists away, curled over her legs, sobbing.