Page 17 of Words We Didn't Say

“No, it’s not—I—”

I jerked to a stop and hunched over. My chest ached, and my breath stuck in my lungs no matter how many times I tried to wheeze in more air. People passing glanced at me with bigeyes before skating closer to the edge of the road to keep their distance.

“Eden, you’re scaring me.” Andie was on high alert, her voice edged with worry. “Tell me where the fuck you are. I’m coming.”

“M-Meet—” The stammer in my voice wasn’t me. I needed to pull up my big girl pants. I was strong as shit. A survivor. No man had broken me before, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to set a new record. “Meet me at the apartment.”

And like the best friend she was, Andie replied without even hesitating, “I’m already out the fucking door.”

4

She didn’t say, “I’m not as strong as I pretend to be.”

Eden

I stabbed the keyat the lock and missed—again.

“Stupid piece of—” The kick I landed on the front door didn’t make me feel any better.

Why were keys impossible to use when you were in a rush?

I rolled my shoulders and forced a breath in, then out. Now wasn’t the time for emotions. If I could claw my way out of a broken home and build a million-dollar business, I wasn’t letting a damndoorbeat me.

It took three attempts, but I stuck the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed my way inside. I didn’t get far. The door jammed to a stop about halfway.

“Fu—oof!”

My feet tangled around the stack of cardboard boxes Zach had been nagging me to unpack for weeks. I lurched forward, landing a hand on the wall to steady myself before my face kissed the hallway floor in a dramatic hello. Fitting. The perfect end to my day…or perhaps…the perfect start to my new life?

I smiled.

The boxes were a sign. Not the sign my therapist had told me—dysfunctional fear of commitment.Please.Future Eden was a genius leaving the mismatched Tupperware and last season’s clothes untouched in boxes by the front door. Leaving was so much easier this way.

I stormed through the apartment, only pausing for a quick stop in the kitchen. Green numbers blinked on the microwave. 10:05 p.m. Zach wouldn’t stumble through the door until well after midnight…if he stumbled in at all.

Would the stench of that woman’s perfume linger on his shirt? Would he sneak into the shower and scrub the memories of her from his skin before tugging back the bedsheets to snuggle beside me as if nothing had happened?

I wasn’t about to find out.

I hauled every bag, every box, off the shelves in the walk-in closet and tossed them on the bed. Clothes hangers disappeared from the railing. I was sweeping my jewellery into an empty shoebox when footsteps padded to a stop behind me.Armed with a sheepskin boot, the box of trinkets, and my chin hiked up, I was ready for battle.

But it wasn’t Zach.

Andie smirked. “I come in peace.” Her shoulder fell against the doorframe, cool and casual. Chaos? Nah. Business as usual.

I lowered the sheepskin boot.

“You left the front door wide open, you know,” she said.

I dumped the box of jewellery on the bed. “I’m in a rush.”

To prove my point, I charged into the closet, ripped open a drawer, and grabbed a handful of my lacy knickers. A neat pile of boxer briefs was stacked beside them. I glared at all the sensible cotton, my jaw clenched tight.

Had Zach’s other woman seen him wear anything in the pile? Had she shoved any down his thighs, impatient to get her greedy hands on what should’ve only been mine?

An ugly laugh bubbled out of me. I ignored the knickers. Instead, I scooped up the folded briefs until they spilt from my arms, and I stormed to the balcony. With a casual toss of my hand, cotton danced on the night air, and—I raced to look over the railing—fluttered to the balcony below.

“Oopsie.”

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