Page 45 of Break the Rule
A part of Eden hates how relieved he feels that she noticed so he doesn’t have to bring it up. The other part can only feel immense relief.
“I really do have to get to work, my boss is being a hard ass and giving me shit for being five minutes late twice this week.” She smooths back his hair, and Eden lets himself melt into the touch for once, aching for the kind of comfort he would never let anyone but Addy provide. “I’m going to stay up late tonight so we can talk after work.”
“You don’t have to,” Eden mumbles, hiding his face in Ella’s plushie.
“I know I don’t, but Ella isn’t the only one who misses you.” Addy bends down, the curves of her soft body and the sweet scent of her perfume almost enough to make Eden cry. He’s been a fucking mess since Charlie. Fucking Charlie. Fuck him for splitting Eden’s duct taped, broken heart open, the stupid fucker. “Don’t forget to eat. I made you lunch when I madeElla’s, so there’s no excuses. I also got change at the bank yesterday before I left work, so the quarter jar is full if you want to do your laundry.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he grouses.
“I’ll be your mom if you need it,” Addy replies, never rising to his bait. “And your best friend. I’m not going anywhere, Eden. Even when you do your damndest to ignore me because you think I’m going to.”
“I haven’t,” Eden starts, then stops. Maybe he has. He’s been staying in his car after work until he’s sure Addy would be asleep all week, only replying to her texts half-heartedly and being a grumpy asshole. All because he fucked a guy who doesn’t care about him, and it reminded Eden how fucking starved for affection, intimacy and love he is.
Eden is a walking red flag and a shit show all rolled into one pretty, broken package. No wonder no one ever wanted to keep him.
“Stop wallowing,” Addy tells him, her cluster of bracelets jingling when she runs her hand over the back of Eden’s head.
There’s a lump in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he hides them both behind Ella’s plushie because he’s a fucking mess.
“I’m not going anywhere, Eden. If you haven’t figured that out in the last five years then I’ll just have to stick around forever until you believe it.” She bends down to kiss him again, her lips pressed to the top of his head since everything else is hidden under blankets or a plush. “We love you, Eden. Don’t forget it.”
It’s not that he forgets, it’s more that it feels impossible to believe, but that feels hurtful, so he never says it. He still isn’t sure why Addy pulled him off the streets and took him in when she could barely afford to take care of herself and her unborn baby, but Eden’s been grateful ever since. He hopes maybe oneday it won’t matter if he understands. Maybe one day he will simply feel like he deserves it.
Today is not that day.
“Have a good day at work. Text me on your break. Also since I’m borrowing your car today you can’t hide in it when your shift is over, so make sure you actually come inside when you get home. I want my best friend.”
“Okay,” Eden whispers, his desire to give her what she wants stronger than his need to hide.
“Good.” She rises, smoothing down her blouse. “Now wish me luck. I fucking hate that drop off line.”
“Good luck,” Eden tells her, watching her leave.
It takes awhile for Eden to get himself out of bed once they’re gone, forcing himself into the shower then back into his pajamas since all his clothes are dirty. He fills his pockets with quarters, grabs a Red Bull from the fridge and an apple because Addy would want him to, before dragging his laundry basket downstairs. He spends the rest of the day alternating between hanging out in the laundry room downstairs and tidying the apartment so Addy won’t have to when she gets off work. By the time he needs to get ready for work, his entire wardrobe is clean, as is their apartment, and he even has time to do an extra complicated eye makeup look he found scrolling social media while waiting for the dryer.
When it’s time to get dressed, he pulls on a pair of jeans automatically, then reaches for one of his favorite skirts and puts it on top. He hasn’t worn one to work yet but it’s been over a week and none of his coworkers seem homophobic. No one has given him shit for his makeup, so it feels like maybe it’s safe. He adds on a stack of bracelets, a pang of remorse hitting him when he’s reminded of the one Ella made him for his birthday last year that he somehow lost. He’s only taken it off when absolutelynecessary and despite the dozen other bracelets that cover his wrists he feels naked without it.
Trying to ignore any and all feelings he doesn’t want to deal with—which is usually all of them—he focuses on his appearance. Standing in front of his closet mirror, he gives himself a final once-over. He looks good, confident even, and his eye makeup looks cool as fuck—the blue liner he used to draw flames making his eyes seem even more blue. Nothing makes Eden feel braver than killer eye makeup.
Before he leaves for work, he sets Ella’s pig plushie up with a fake tea party in her room, hoping it might appease the fact that he’s going to miss their nightly story time again tonight.
He’s almost out the door when he realizes he did in fact forget to eat, grabbing the lunch Addy packed him and eating it on the way to work. His time gets crunched because he has to take the bus to work since Addy borrowed his car. By the time he’s getting off at his stop next to the strip mall, his headache is gone, likely because it was as much from stress as lack of food, and he’s feeling better than he has all week. Turns out getting his shit together does help. Who knew? Probably Addy, which is why she nudged him in this direction.
Feeling confident and ready for anything, Eden heads into work prepared to handle whatever this day throws at him.
Eden cannot handle this.
“Why the fuck are you here?”
“You don’t look happy to see me,” Charlie says with the air of someone used to people fawning all over him. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re handsome and monetarily comfortable and slightly famous. Eden had spent all night googling Charlie,and while he’s not so famous to warrant strangers stopping him on the street, according to the articles he found, he’d been named one of the thirty artists to watch under thirty by some prestigious art magazine, and has dozens of articles and features about him online. Apparently in the art world, Charlie is a little bit famous. Probably why he walks around with the confidence of someone who thinks his shit doesn’t stink.
“Did you want to order something?” Eden asks, trying for dismissive.
There is not a chance in hell he’s going to tell Charlie he’s not happy to see him, because the cocky fucker would probably take that as Eden thinking about him at all. Which technically he has been, but Charlie sure as shit doesn’t need to know that. If his head gets any bigger, it won’t fit through the front door. This man could use some humbling.
“I want a lot of things,” Charlie replies, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head in a way that highlights the waves of his thick hair. “Not all of them are on the menu.”
“Sounds like a you problem.”
