My limbs felt heavy, and my head throbbed from crying as I lowered myself into a waiting room chair. There were pleasant paintings on the wall, and someone had coordinated a color scheme of rose and blue with fake flower arrangements and furniture upholstery. The last time I’d been in a waiting room was when Sophie was three and had fallen and cracked her chin open. She’d needed twelve stitches and she’d bled so much I was certain she would die from it. I remember sitting, holding my dad’s hand, and feeling sick to my stomach with worry. And I remember hating the cold, dreary, and crowded waiting room. We’d had no money or medical insurance, and Mom had held a cloth against Sophie’s chin while Dad drove us across town through irritating traffic to the county hospital. With the amount of blood covering Mom and Sophie’s clothes, I was certain they’d rush them right through the door and to a doctor. But at a county hospital, they took the most life threatening injuries first, and that meant gunshot wounds. There seemed to be a lot of them that day, and we’d waited anxiously for them to help my little sister. It was one of the worst days in my memory, and yet, it had been nothing compared to this day. Jude had been so busy chastising me, he’d left us with little information. I had no idea what kind of shape Finley was in.

Sitting there, with my arms crossed tightly against my churning stomach and a bleak bitter feeling flooding chest, I suddenly knew how badly Finley had been feeling these past few days. Even when things had sunk to their absolute worst, and my family and I had spent several weeks living in our car, I hadn’t experienced this sensation of complete and utter hopelessness. It drained every ounce of energy from me, and I wanted to roll off into a dark hole or fall into a deep, endless sleep . . .  just like Finley had wanted.

I’d hardly moved a muscle since I sat down, and when Cole walked into the room, I was completely stiff from sitting so still. It took some effort to push from the chair and stand up.

Cole looked decidedly better and more relaxed than he had an hour earlier when he’d clutched his steering wheel so tightly I thought it would come off in his hands. “They pumped her stomach, and she’ll be all right.”

I burst into tears not realizing just how terrified I’d been.

Cole put his arm around me, and I pressed my face against his shoulder. I heard footsteps enter the waiting room. I gathered my strength and turned to face Jude.

His skin had barely regained its color. “Eden, I’m sorry.” His voice was low and hoarse and every word caused the pain in my throat to grow. “I was scared and I lashed out and—”

I swallowed hard and attempted to produce my coldest tone. “How’s Finley?”

Apparently, my attempt was successful. Jude looked at me as if I’d slapped him. “She’ll be fine, and I think she’ll finally get the help she needs.”

“I’m glad of it.” It was hard as hell to sound emotionless when every emotion I’d ever felt was swirling inside of me. “I need to use the restroom.” I sidled past him without giving him as much as a glance. He’d apologized, but there was no way to take any of it back. His angry words had sliced through me like an icy blade, and there was just no way to recover from the blow.

I headed through the two automatic doors and turned down the walkway that led to the street. I’d loved my time with Finley, at least the original version of Finley, and Jude had been the first guy who I’d felt I could give my heart to. But as far as I was concerned, my summer job with the King family was over.

Chapter 22

Miraculously, I found a taxi without much effort, and I paid for a ride back to the mansion. I told Tilly that Finley was all right but that I’d returned to pick her up a few things. I looked in on Some Pig. He had curled up on her bed. He lifted his snout as I kissed him on the head and then I went to my room to pack my few belongings into my broken duffle. The only place I could think of going was our old apartment. I still had a key, and technically, it belonged to my parents for a few more days. I had no idea how to find my family, but I was a big girl and I would figure things out once I got there. I was still sick and numb with heartbreak, but I would get over it. The survival instincts I’d developed through my tumultuous childhood years had kicked in.

The taxi dropped me at the bus stop, and I pulled my sweatshirt hood up onto my head and slumped onto the bench to wait for the next bus. Unbidden, my thoughts went back to the day that Jude had gone with me to see my parents. We’d spent the entire day together, and it was that day when I’d seen him outside of his world of luxury and privilege that I knew he was worth falling for. I’d been horrified at the thought of him seeing our shabby apartment, but he’d never shown even an ounce of shock or pity at the way we lived. And we’d ended that day with his second failed attempt at painting me, a failed attempt that made my skin warm just thinking about it.

A burst of air pushed my hood back. The bus had arrived. Once again, my limbs felt filled with lead as I picked up my duffle and climbed aboard. This time I avoided the back seats. My only fear was that the sleazy landlord had taken advantage and overlapped the lease on the apartment. Then I’d have to find a cheap hotel to live in. I had some money in the bank from my first paycheck, but motel rent would eat it up quickly.

The bus ride seemed interminably long, and I sighed with relief as it finally pulled to a stop near the all too familiar mini mart. I stepped inside the small store. The store manager looked surprised to see me.

“You didn’t leave with your family?” he asked.

I put the milk and a newspaper on the counter and shook my head. I paid him and wandered down the sidewalk past the quiet, dark construction site. I doubted that Cole would be showing to work any time soon, but I would avoid walking past it just in case. I was fairly certain that Jude never told him that my family lived nearby.

Televisions flickered through the thin, worn curtains covering the apartment windows, and I could hear the Spencers in one of their usual yell fests. I plodded up the stairs and was happy to see that our apartment was completely dark.

The smell of stale smoke wafted through the air of the cold, empty room. I reached for the light and was relieved to see that the electricity had not been turned off. It looked bleak and vacant without Sophie and Janie scurrying around with their giggles and fluffy socks. My disgusting, lumpy sofa bed was still sitting in the center of the room, and it couldn’t have looked more inviting. Mom had packed all the sheets and blankets, so I stayed in my jeans and sweatshirt.

I drank a cup of milk to soothe the pain that burned a hole in my stomach and then I yanked out the lumpy mattress and sank into the giant hole. I pulled the hood up over my head, curled up into a ball, and cried myself to sleep.

It could not have been much past six in the morning when a loud knock startled me from a deep sleep.

“Eden,” Jude’s deep voice echoed along the second story balcony. He pounded the door again. “Eden, please let me in. I need to know you’re all right.” A long pause followed but I hadn’t heard his footsteps recede. “Please, Eden, let me in. Finley’s asking for you.” His voice had dropped low, and there was enough sorrow in his tone to nearly propel me from the bed to the door.

But I stayed quiet as a statue in the center of the worn mattress, not even daring to breathe. I worried that if I let myself breathe, it would break my resolve and I would go to him. I would have given anything to throw myself into his solid, comforting arms, but he’d torn my heart in two pieces the night before and there was no way to repair the damage. Finally his heavy footsteps pounded the balcony and the staircase. His bike fired up, and he tore out of the driveway and out of my life for good.