The dark gloom of my emotions weighed heavily on me as I drove home. I didn’t see how Eden and I could go back to normal after our night together, after this morning. I mean, clearly I’d been hoping for abnormal, to move in a new direction, to shove through that opening, but now I’d be a total asshole if I didn’t reevaluate, at least a little bit.
What had been the trigger?
If she didn’t somehow cut me completely out of her life and I could convince her to let me have a shot, would we be able to work through that trauma? Was she even capable of a relationship at all?
I’d been an egotistical ass, thinking that she just hadn’t met the right man.
Meaning me.
I hadn’t allowed a second thought as to why she didn’t form meaningful relationships with the opposite sex.
Well, I sure as shit had an idea of why that was now.
My apartment was only a couple of miles away, but L.A. traffic meant that it took much longer than it should have to get there. Though at least by the time I pulled into the lot, my arm had stopped bleeding.
I had that much going for me.
Sighing, I pushed out of my car and went up to my apartment. At minimum, I’d need to clear the air with her and apologize. At maximum, I’d . . . fuck, I’d forget about that sliver of opening in the armor surrounding her heart and go back to being her friend. I’d pretend the night hadn’t happened, forget about the chemistry.
Not what I wanted, but if Eden needed that, I wasn’t selfish enough not to give it to her.
My place was on the third floor and mostly empty. I’d only been in L.A. for a few weeks and though I’d had a couch and bed delivered and mounted a TV to the wall, I’d basically been subsisting on DoorDash and embracing the minimalist lifestyle.
That was going to change. Or rather, the minimalist part.
Since I'd made London my home base for the last few years, I’d shipped a bunch of stuff from the U.K. I was tired of the rain and the dreary weather. I wanted sun and heat and . . . much less rain.
Plus, my family lived here. Or well, in the northern part of the state, that was, but it wasn’t a long drive up, and I was looking forward to spending the few free days I had with people I was close to.
Not that I hadn’t had friends or people I was close with in London, but they weren’t the same as someone who’d known me my whole life. With my parents, there wasn’t any pretense or B.S. or trying to be nice. And even though my sisters had scattered, Cindy in Oregon and Colleen living on the East Coast, they still regularly came home to visit.
I wanted in on that.
Plus, it was refreshing to be around my family. They called me on my shit without ill feeling and definitely didn’t let asshole or egotistical behavior of any type slide. In a world where I’d become successful enough that people kissed my ass on a regular basis, I needed someone who’d be straight with me.
So, I’d moved to California to be closer to my parents, but I’d settled in the southern portion because I didn’t want to be too close—
Of course, there was also the fact that Eden lived here.
That hadn’t factored in at all.
I snorted. Didn’t even believe my own bullshit, yet alone someone else’s.
After unlocking my front door, I pushed through into my nearly-empty apartment and headed to my bathroom. I thought I’d seen a first aid kit under the sink when I’d moved in. Hopefully I was right in it being there, because I sure as shit hadn’t stocked up on Band-Aids during the last few weeks.
I barely had furniture, let alone an assortment of bandages.
Thankfully the kit was there, and so within a couple of minutes, I’d washed the cuts then thrown a couple of Band-Aids over them. With a wince, I left the bathroom, grabbed my laptop, and plunked my ass on the couch. I had emails to answer, meetings to schedule on my calendar, shoots coming up that I needed to prepare for, and I—
Needed a break from thinking about Eden.
That wasn’t to be.
Buzz. Buzz.
I pulled my cell from my pocket.
I’m sorry I hurt you.
Hearing from Eden had been pretty much the last thing I would have ever predicted. I’d expected . . . what? To have to go over there and bang on her front door, demanding that we talk about what happened.
Yeah. That.
My phone vibrated again.
Damon. Are you okay?
I shook off the surprise and made my fingers move.
I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.
Silence.
I’m broken, Damon. I’m not right.
My heart squeezed.
You’re not broken, baby.
A beat.
I think we both know that’s not true.
Fuck, but I couldn’t deny she was wrong. Or at least, not completely. She had trauma and baggage and pain that was clearly overwhelming.
I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m so sorry that I didn’t listen to you.
Her response came almost instantly.
Sorry that you were sweet and cooked and cleaned for me? Sorry that you gave me orgasms?
I smiled despite the circumstances.
No, not for the orgasms.
I’d never regret bringing her pleasure. It was all the rest of it that I was sorry about.
I shouldn’t have grabbed you.
A beat.
I think there were a lot of shouldn’ts that have happened in the last twenty-four hours.
That wasn’t a lie. But I also couldn’t bring myself to regret everything about our night. Still, before I could tell her that, she texted again.
Can we just go back to how things were before?
How could I possibly forget everything and go back to how things were?
And yet, how could I not?
If I didn’t agree and she retreated, I would lose all of her—the friendship, the weekly calls, the woman I’d grown close to over the last six years. However, if
