A Touch Mortal

Chapter 37





Next to her, Adam was curled tight into the blankets. She blinked again. The shock of the dream that awoke her was already fading into a low tide of unease. Something about Kristen. The night with Marcus. Something burning? No, she thought, something really is burning. Eden closed her eyes and sniffed as she ran her hand down her neck. The muscles there were stiff from sleeping half cocked over Adam’s arm. He didn’t stir when she crawled out of the bed.

Eden followed the fumes to the kitchen, a thin haze of smoke coming from the skillet on the burner. She climbed across a chair and slid open the window next to the table.

Az turned at the scrape, a look of apology on his face. He wore the same tight black pants he’d had on last night, but she recognized the dark blue T-shirt as one of Jarrod’s. Some of the curl had come back into his hair. With it came a memory, their breath coming hot and fast, her fingers tangling in those curls, the sand shifting beneath them under the blanket.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, breaking her thought. The memory shattered.

“I didn’t sleep well.” The back of the chair dug into her stomach as she leaned against it. She pushed away, circling to sit down. Self-consciously, she yanked the hem of the shirt she wore down past her knees.

“Yeah, me either. Figured I’d try to make breakfast.” He cracked an egg, tossing the shells into the garbage can. “Thought maybe you’d want some.” He smiled then, and the motion sent her off kilter as if two worlds had overlapped, the perfect untouched glow of their weeks together wrapping around her unease, trying to smother it.

She dragged her attention away, her eyes roaming until they settled on the blue garbage can next to him. She heard the crack as he broke another egg, the white shells landing on top of old coffee filters and empty soda cans. Under the shells, a burnt pile of scrambled eggs still steamed lightly.

Eden shifted in the chair, dropping her feet to the cold tile. “They need milk,” she said.

“Thanks.” Opening the refrigerator, he scanned the shelves until he found the carton, adding a splash to the pan of yolks and white goo. He glanced up at Eden’s sigh.

“Typically you add the milk before you start cooking the eggs.”

A blush colored his cheeks. “Yeah, I haven’t cooked in a while,” he said, going back to his scrambling with renewed vigor. The milk sloshed across the nearly cooked eggs.

“I had a nightmare,” she said. He half turned toward her, the spatula still clanking against the pan. “That’s what woke me up,” she added awkwardly, not sure where the need to tell him came from.

“What about?”

The details were long gone, just a trace of wrongness curled in her stomach. “I don’t remember.”

He nodded. “Happens like that sometimes.” He watched the eggs, concentrating as though they’d become the whole universe. He flipped them, cutting chunks away and mixing the last of the uncooked parts. Milk steamed at the bottom of the pan. “Your brain shuts out the bad stuff.” He held the handle of the utensil so tight his fingers went white.

She scratched a nail against the wood of the chair, the dream pushed far back. They were alone. She could ask him all the questions she’d spent months agonizing over.

Unfortunately, the fact that he was standing in her kitchen was more than a little unsettling. She’d run through every scenario of them meeting. Honed bits of dialogue, sharpened her wit to a razor-edge, ready to slice him as deep as she’d been cut, no matter the situation. Waking up to Az cooking eggs in her kitchen had never made the list.

“It’s throwing me off,” she said, breaking the silence.

He finally looked up, turning the heat down on the burner before he leaned against the back wall. “Are we still talking about the dream?”

“No. We’re talking about you, Az. I don’t want you here.”

He crossed his arms. “And here it comes,” he mumbled.

“Here what comes?” she asked, her voice clipped.

“Yesterday…maybe even last night, I would have gone all apologetic. You could have played the jaded card for however long it took me to win you back. But not anymore.” His voice was controlled; each word thought out and delivered for maximum impact. Clearly she hadn’t been the only one plotting this moment. “You don’t love him,” he said quietly. “You know that, right? He’s a replacement, Eden.” He almost managed to hide the quaver in his voice.

Who are you trying to convince, Az? She opened her mouth to say the words, go for the kill. But when her voice came she said, “Why did you make me think you were dead?”

The way he paused, she knew he’d expected her to fight him about Adam and what he meant to her, maybe even counted on it. She watched him run a hand through his hair, heard the frustrated “f*ck” he whispered.

“Why?” He slammed a hand on the counter, lowered his voice. “Because I’m flawed. Selfish.” He set the spatula down, bowing his head. She watched the emotions struggle across his face. Part of her wanted to reach out to him, touch him.

“Do you need me to get Gabe?”

“No! You need to hear this.” He shuddered, gripping the countertop. “We just wanted to get away, Eden. Gabe and I, take a vacation. And then I met you. I thought it was safe.” He glanced up. “But we were found. The Fallen.”

“So you faked your death to get away?” she asked, exasperated.

“The Fallen don’t like me happy, Eden. They saw me with you. I knew what they would do if they got a hold of you.” He swallowed hard. “See, they don’t come after me. They come after anyone I love. Torture, kill, with the hope that I’ll give in and Fall. Do you know what that’s like for me?”

“So you pushed me to kill myself. How does that make you any different than them?”

“I am not one of them.” His eyes flashed a violet swirl of anger and sorrow before he closed them. When he blinked them open again, they’d faded back to a resigned cornflower. “On the beach, the night you met me, what were you doing, Eden?”

“I was…” She looked away at the dark memory of the days before she’d met him. He crossed the room, squeezed her hands.

“You know you would have killed yourself if we hadn’t found each other. I kept you alive as much as you kept me from Falling. But keeping you happy kept you mortal. I just wanted us to have a chance to be together.”

She met his eyes, let him see what his loss had done to her. What it was still doing to her.

“I f*cked up. I should have told you everything.” He cursed under his breath, running his finger over her thumb. “We can fix this, right?”

“I don’t think we can. If you’d come to Kristen’s—” She dropped her gaze, couldn’t stand to see the regret in his eyes. “Why couldn’t you have just trusted me?”

“What’s burning?” Gabe stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his hair tousled. He stepped into the room, scrunching his nose, yesterday’s broken ankle healed. Eden snatched her hands from Az. Behind him, the pan gave off plumes of fresh smoke, blooming against the ceiling.

“Damn it!” He pulled the pan from the burner.

“Az trying to cook breakfast.” Gabe smiled, rubbing an eye. “The bane of overworked chickens everywhere.” He flopped into the chair next to Eden, yawning as he watched Az poke at the charred remains. “Those are not edible, so don’t even try to pass them off. He tell you about the time he almost burned down our apartment over a few pizza rolls?” Gabe snickered.

Az scraped his second failed attempt into the trash. “We got to talking. I was just distracted,” he said, his voice genial as he pointed the spatula at Eden. She followed his lead, trying to smile. Just talking. She almost managed it, but Az’s words ricocheted through her mind. We can fix this, right?

“Talking, eh?” Gabe raised an eyebrow. “Then why does she look like you two just got busted?”

Eden’s grin faded. Az cast an embarrassed glance her way.

“Gabe,” he said, his voice low. “We were just talking.”

“Just like old times.” He shrugged off the flicker of warning in Az’s eyes. “Minus her boy on the side, of course,” he added.

“You’re such an ass, Gabe,” she mumbled, rising so fast the chair fell back, clattering against the wall.

She heard Az, his bitter, “Damn it, Gabe,” followed by the rush of his feet. He caught her arm in the living room.

“Eden,” he said as she tried to pull free of his grasp.

“Why are you doing this to me!” she yelled, loud enough that she was sure the door she stood in front of would open, and Adam would come charging out. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

He still held her wrist, but his fingers were loose, the thumb making delicate circles as he waited for her to finish.

“I’m with Adam now,” she insisted. “There’s nothing left to fix.” She wanted to go on, wanted to say so much more. But she couldn’t pull her attention away from the tender way he held her arm. It would be easier if he screamed, argued, if he’d let her pick a fight. Anything.

“Let’s just stop, start over,” he whispered. “We were great together. We can be like that again.”

“Like it’s that easy?” she argued. Her hand was starting to shake. She slid a ring over her knuckle, driving it back against the web of her fingers, letting the motion soothe her.

“It could be. I did everything I could to help you.”

“You’re honestly gonna try to lie your way out of this, too? You didn’t do anything for me.”

“How’d you get this apartment, Eden? Panhandling?” he grimaced, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. Maybe a rumor started after you left Kristen’s? One that benefited you?” He fell silent, waiting for her to make the connection.

Her mouth dropped open at the revelation. “You…you sent them. You told the Siders that I could free them?”

“Fifty bucks seemed more than fair.”

“Do you have any idea what you did?” She shook her head, her chest tight. “Az, I was supposed to keep a low profile.”

“I only told a few Siders. Just enough to get you a hotel until you figured out an apartment. I figured it would die out pretty quick once you stopped.” He glanced up, his voice unsure. “Why didn’t you stop?”

“What does it matter?”

“Eden.” All he had to do was say her name. A gentle breath of letters. There was so much there that only she understood, layers calling her out. He wrapped his arms around her when she didn’t answer. “What’s going on?”

She’d wanted so much to be held by him for so long and now it felt tainted. “Forget about all that other stuff, okay?” He paused, running a hand down her cheek, his eyes full of pain. “Why didn’t you stop?”

“I…” She hesitated, pulling away to meet his eyes. “I couldn’t,” she whispered. “They need me. You wouldn’t understand.” She dropped his hand and sat down on the armrest of the couch. His head leaned forward, his long black bangs hiding his face.

“You come here, after everything that’s happened and…I’ve spent the last months trying to get over you!” Eden stopped, starting over. “What right do you have to do this to me?”

Az looked up in surprise. “Every right.” He lowered his voice until she had to close her eyes and concentrate to make out the words. His hands rose to her shoulders. “I’m gonna fix it. I don’t care how long it takes. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

She took a deep breath. “You’re not forgiven yet. You know that, right?” she said, wishing she’d just kept quiet. It had been the eyes. And the fingers on her skin. And the…Shut up, she told herself. “How the hell do you think you’re going to fix things?”

He smiled. “Let’s start small. Something that I’m sure will make you happy,” he said quietly, standing and taking a hesitant step toward her.

“And just what would that be?” She stepped away from him, compensating, but he walked past her, heading for the front door. He winked as he opened it.

“Breakfast. I’ll be back in a few.”

She stood there for a moment, watching the closed door and wondering what the hell had just happened. Memories rose, rippling like pebbles tossed into the lies she’d told herself to try to forget about him. Before they could wash over her, she headed back to the kitchen.

Eden didn’t say a word to Gabe as she passed him on her way to the sink. Instead, she cranked on the hot water, squeezing too much soap onto the sponge. She pulled the pan Az had used from where he’d left it on the stove and scrubbed at the charred crust on the bottom.

“You know,” she said finally, slopping the sponge back into the water, “I really didn’t appreciate that.” She slid a glance over her shoulder and was surprised to find Gabe smiling.

“Yeah, that was kinda bad form,” he said.

“So do you have some kind of problem with Adam all of a sudden? I don’t get it, Gabe. You knew about him and it didn’t seem to bother you much before.” She gave up on the pan, leaving it to soak, and dried her hands on a paper towel.

“Because I was sure with Az back in the picture the choice would be clear. You belong with him, Eden.”

“Why?”

“Because he belongs with you,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Eden scoffed. “A bit dramatic, Gabe.”

“Do what you need to do, but you know what they say, right?” he asked smiling. “Once you go celestial…” He paused before laughing. “Yeah, I got nothin’.” He reached out his hand and took hers, his face going serious. “You do realize, if you and him don’t make it, he won’t last.”

“That’s not fair,” she whispered.

“But it’s the truth.” He squeezed her hand. “He’ll Fall. We’ll lose him.”

Adam rounded the corner as Gabe was dropping her hand. Eden blushed as he passed by, opening the fridge and pouring himself a glass of juice. He wrapped an arm around her from behind, kissing her cheek.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked. “You weren’t there when I woke up.”

She held Gabe’s gaze as she lowered her hand to stroke Adam’s arm. “But you were there when I did,” she said. She felt him smile against her skin.

Adam stood behind her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Where’s the other one?” he asked.

She couldn’t see Adam’s face, but Gabe’s went hard.

“The other one went to get everyone breakfast.”

“How’d the floor work for you? Sleep well?” His voice was pleasant enough, but there was an undercurrent to it.

“I actually had the pleasure of the couch,” Gabe said through gritted teeth and a plastic smile. Then she felt Adam’s arm tighten, his free hand sweeping her hair back as he kissed her behind her ear. She tilted her head away reflexively, lifting up her shoulder.

“You’re tickling,” she said, but Gabe had raised his eyebrows, his face a mask of barely concealed amusement. Adam didn’t move his arm away.