“It’s a road trip. We have to have snacks.”
Eden’s buoyancy is back. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. It’s clear she needs to keep moving, and for now my job is to keep moving with her. Hanna obviously still believes Eden and Paul could get back together. I have my doubts—but I also know I’m not a reliable narrator. What I believe about and want from Eden doesn’t live in the real world. It lives in a fantasy world where I never had to sit across a courtroom from her. Where we met under completely different circumstances, where there was no Teller Austin or Paul Graves.
That world doesn’t exist, and therefore, Eden and I will keep moving. And for now, at least, I’ll live in Hanna’s world, the one where we’re pretending we don’t have a problem…yet.
I finish filling the tank while Eden’s still inside. I head into the mini mart to hurry her up and discover that she’s piled a basket nearly full of shiny, bright-colored snack bags.
“What’s all that for?” I demand.
“Toeat,” she says, like I’m the dullest knife in the drawer.
“You’re going to be sleeping, not eating,” I remind her. “That was our agreement.”
“I’m not sleepy,” she says. “In fact, I can drive if you need me to.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that. I’m a terrible passenger. I don’t even like rideshares, but I tolerate them as long as I’m not sitting in the front seat, watching the driver’s every move and awaiting my doom.”
“Wow,” she says. “That’s?—”
“I know,” I say. “Grim.”
“Did something happen to you as a child, Hott?”
There’s a tease in her voice. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard it, and it feels so fucking good it takes my breath away. It makes me want to tease back, to play.
“No. I was just born to be in the driver’s seat.”
Only the corners of her mouth tip. But it’s enough. My whole body warms.
She looks away, like she didn’t mean to let me see that much. When she looks back, the tease and the not-quite-smile are gone. “Do you want to pick out some of the snacks?”
I shake my head. “That shit is super unhealthy.”
She gives me a disbelieving look. “Seriously?”
“What? It’s true.” I dig in her basket. “Cheetos? Bugles? Oreos? Cool Ranch Doritos? Do any of those even contain actual food?” I pull out the Cool Ranch Doritos and start reading the ingredients out loud, but she snatches them out of my hands.
“You don’t have to eat them,” she says. “But I will not allow you to kill my joy.”
I roll my eyes. “The number of additives in those products will kill youandyour joy.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “Nope,” she says. “They may kill me, but they will not even dampen my joy.”
And with that, she takes her basket of junk food up to the front counter. I watch her go, biting back my own smile.
10
Eden
We get back into the car, and I install myself for the long haul.
First, I tuck a fleece blanket around myself.
“Where did you get that?” Rhys asks as he starts the car and heads us north on 105.
