Page 70 of Thanks for Coming Along
Eden's breath caught in her throat as she struggled to form the words. Her wide blue eyes held a mix of fear and longing, torn between the past and the possibility of something beautiful.
"I—" she began, her voice trembling. Ronan could feel her heart pounding against his chest, and he knew he had to be patient. He leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, a silent plea in his gaze. He felt an overwhelming urge to shake some sense into her, to make her see that what they shared was incomparable to anything she had experienced before, distinct and far removed from the shadows of her past.
Taking a deep breath to steady his racing emotions, Ronan reached out his fingers to caress her cheek with a light touch. His fingertips grazed her skin cautiously as though afraid she might shatter into a thousand pieces with a wrong move.
"You can be scared, Eden," he said softly, pausing to search her eyes for any sign of understanding. His gaze was steady, unwavering as he looked into her teary eyes.
"You can lean on me until you aren't scared anymore. I want to be the one you can trust without a doubt," Ronan whispered, his voice tender. His hand trembled slightly against her tear-stained cheek. He could see the deep-seated distrust in her eyes, the result of so many people abandoning her throughout her life. Ronan wanted desperately to show her that he wasn't like them.
"You were never asking for too much," he continued, his voice wavering with emotion. "You were asking the wrong people. The answer is easy when you ask the right person." Ronan's gaze bore into hers with an intensity that mirrored the fervor of his words. "And being with you feels as easy as breathing to me."
As she registered his words, he watched as something seemed to break behind her eyes, a glimmer of hope or realization that flickered and then faded. Ronan's eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he blinked them away, determined to be strong for her. His fingertips gently wiped away the tears that had streaked down her cheeks.
"Eden," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "please don't do this."
She slowly withdrew from his touch, her steps carrying her backward the road. It was as if the world had shifted, and he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with despair as he watched her move away. The idea of her distancing herself felt unbearable to him. The pain in his chest tightened, each step she took amplifying the ache inside him.
"Eden, please," he called out, desperation lacing his voice.
"Don't push me away," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "We can face this together. Just give us a chance."
Eden paused for a brief moment, her shoulders tense and her head slightly bowed. For a fleeting second, he thought she might step forward, might come back to him. But then she took another step back, and the distance between them felt insurmountable.
"It's too much, Ronan," she whispered, her words carried away by the night breeze. "I can't do it right now." Eden whispered, her voice trembling under the weight of her emotions. Tears streamed down her face, smearing her mascara and leaving dark streaks on her cheeks.
A heavy weight pressed on his chest, an ache deep within that hurt with each breath. The words hit Ronan like a sledgehammer as his heart had shattered into a million pieces. The world seemed to close in around him, and he struggled to catch his breath as the gravity of her decision settled over him like a suffocating blanket.
It was a pain he couldn't put into words, a deep emptiness that threatened to consume him. The prospect of losing Eden, of a future without her, was a torment that felt impossible. But he couldn't force her to stay, couldn't make her choose something she wasn't ready for. All he could do was respect her decision, even though it felt like the world was crumbling around him.
"I am so sorry," she whispered through tears, her voice cracking. He nodded numbly, his throat constricting and burning with emotion. He wanted to reach out, hold her close, and tell her he understood. He knew that accepting their relationship meant confronting her deepest fears. It meant choosing hope over fear, vulnerability over solitude. But the words caught in his throat, and he could only watch as the woman he loved began to slip through his fingers like sand.
She turned her body abruptly, the flowing crimson train of her dress billowing behind her as she walked down the dimly lit sidewalk. Ronan's gaze remained fixed on that train of satin until it gradually dissolved into the darkness of the night.
He thought it couldn't be real, a sense of disbelief clutching at him. She couldn't genuinely mean what she had just said, could she? He found himself rooted to the spot as if his feet had taken on their own life. Time seemed to blur, seconds melting into minutes, and he stood there, unable to tell just how long he had remained standing in that spot.
Despite the numbness and heartache threatening to crush him, something kept Ronan from falling apart. He had seen the conflict in her eyes, the flicker of uncertainty as she walked away. She had said she couldn't do itright now.That foolish glimmer of hope, however faint, was what held him upright, preventing his body from caving in beneath the weight of anguish.
43
Eden
Eden watched the TV screen blankly as a deep, calming voice described the Aurora Borealis. Something about nitrogen, oxygen, and high-speed collisions. Her mind tuned out the information, and the world around her felt like a blur, like the streaks of the landscape outside a car window when the car was speeding, colors muddied together. Her head seemed to spin in time with her throbbing heart.
Quentin sat next to her, watching the screen with rapt attention. He loved anything space-related and persistently tried to get her to watch space documentaries with him. Typically, she avoided them like the plague. But in that moment, her indifference seemed all-consuming. He could have played a compilation video of goats screaming, and she likely wouldn't have registered it.
The night after the award show, Quentin showed up at her door and pulled her into his arms as she sobbed uncontrollably. Eden figured Ingrid must’ve sent him, especially with the flood of missed calls from her. She was probably worried Eden would fall back into her old habits like after her last breakup. But this time felt different. There was no anger or shame. Instead, a deep emptiness had settled in, eating away at her until she felt completely hollow.
Quentin had gently guided her to the couch, where she curled up in a fetal position, exhaustion and sadness weighing heavily on her. The tears flowed until her tear ducts gave out, and Quentin stayed by her side as she fell into an exhausted sleep right there on the couch.
The next morning, Eden woke up to the smell of burnt eggs. She found Quentin in her kitchen, smoke pouring from a frying pan, and the fire alarm blaring. The beeping only stopped when he opened the window with an apologetic grin. It was almost funny, and normally, she would’ve laughed, but everything felt drained out of her.
Quentin had been putting on space documentaries, probably trying to distract her. He hadn’t asked about Ronan at all over the last few days—just sat with her. Day after day, it was one documentary after another about black holes, Apollo 11, and aliens.
Four nights had gone by since she’d last seen Ronan, and Eden was doing her best to push him out of her mind, knowing if she didn’t, she’d fall apart. The thought of the documentary’s premiere was making her stomach churn, the idea of seeing him there felt like it would completely break her.
Instead of thinking, she let herself be swallowed by exhaustion, sinking into the hollow feeling inside her. She felt stuck in this endless cycle of emptiness, drifting in and out of sleep on the couch. Quentin kept ordering food for her, though she couldn’t bring herself to eat.
The sun had now set, the sky darkening with the last light of the day. Eden was nodding off to sleep again, the hum of another documentary providing a faint background noise. Suddenly there was a deafening pounding reverberated on her front door, causing Eden's already fragile heart to surge in her chest.
