Page 59 of There's No Us Without You
Eden lifts a shoulder. “Suit yourself—Will?” She holds the plate out to him next, but he just shakes his head, no words needed.
“Why are you eating them?” I dart my focus between Eden’s face and the plate.
While rubbing her abdomen, Eden shrugs. “They’re my... comfort food for times like this.”
“Right,” I say, nodding. “I’ve heard that’s a thing. So is your flow heavy, or is it just cramps?”
“Jesus Christ,” Will says, smacking me in the chest with the back of his hand. “Want to ask any other personal questions?”
“What? I’ve never lived with another woman besides my mum. I care, thank you very much.”
Eden rolls her eyes. “Can we not talk about the fact I’m bleeding to death, and move on to the fact that Emerson has never tried Pop-Tarts before?”
“Nope,” I say, grinning. “And for good measure, they look like they’d give me diabetes with one bite.”
“You’ve lived a sheltered life,” Will says, shaking his head. “Even I’ve had Pop-Tarts, and I grew up poor.”
Eden snaps her gaze towards Will and reaches for his hand. I’m not entirely sure she realises she’s doing it until Will’s eyes dart to their connection and he frowns like he’s never held another person’s hand before.
Well . . . this is . . . interesting.
What was that he was saying moments ago about not having feelings for Eden?
Unease fills the space, settling in the air like fog on a cold morning.
I clear my throat to ease the tension and fold my arms over my chest. “As I was saying, I’m not seeing how I’ve missed out here.”
Eden blinks and pulls her hand away from Will’s before shoving her plate in my face again. “Just try one.”
Will shoves his hands in the pockets of his dark-grey shorts and chews the inside of his lip.
“I’m good,” I say, pushing her hand away. “They’re all yours.”
Admittedly, they smell okay, but there’s no way I’m putting one in my mouth.
I already allow alcohol into my weekly cheat foods—I don’t need to add sugar-laden pastries too.
“Your loss.” Eden shoves one into her mouth, a few crumbs falling onto the front of her shirt and getting caught on the swells of her breasts.
Will stiffens beside me. “Anyway, I’m out,” he says, before darting out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
Well, I’ll be damned. Appears Mr I Don’t Have a Heart has a fucking heart after all, and a boner to match.
You’d think at twenty-three we’d have mastered the art of controlling our dicks, but it’s blatantly obvious we have failed miserably.
Thank fuck Eden doesn’t notice though, too caught up in her own misery as she takes her plate and mug with her to curl up on the couch.
After showering again, and getting the smell of coffee off my skin, I finish packing my bag for our away game, then head back downstairs to find Eden still in the same position on the couch, now with a hot water bottle sitting on her abdomen, and a hand resting under her head as she flicks through the TV channels. She lands on a documentary about stalkers.
What’s with women and crime documentaries? If I recall correctly, Matilda is obsessed with them, and Wren is lucky she hasn’t buried him six feet under as yet.
A grin spreads over my face and my heart flops around inside my chest as a wave of goosebumps washes over my skin. Eden would fit in so well with our found family. She’s meant to be here. And when I get the chance to shoot my shot, I just hope I don’t trip and fall flat on my face.
“You going to be okay, Pop-Tart?” I say, stepping up behind the couch.
Eden jumps, a hand going to her chest, and when she glances up at me, a frown pulls her eyebrows in. “Pop-Tart?”
“Like sweet death,” I say, grinning down at her.
