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Chapter Twenty-Five

EDEN

Hands close around us, pulling us roughly up onto a boat deck. Murph helps them grab hold of me and roll me over the side. Then he grabs hold too, hauling himself out and grabbing hold of me again as we collapse together on the dec.

I’ve never been so close to rolling over and kissing the ground I’m on. And now that I’m safe at last, the real terror hits.

I actually almost drowned, right here in the sunshine.

As much as my burning lungs are working overtime, I can’t help a strangled sob into Murph’s bare chest. He wraps those huge, muscled arms around me and holds on so tight that it almost hurts to breathe again. But this time it’s okay, because moments ago, I was so fucking scared that I was never going to feel it again.

All I can manage to choke out is one word. “I—” My voice cuts out again.

“Shhh,” Murph whispers, pressing his lips into my hair. “You’re safe, my love. I’ve got you, Eden. You’re safe.”

My love. He called me his love.

My panic seems to hit a brick wall and stop short. For just a second, joy lifts me up until I’m floating way above all that fear… and then that stops short, too, as I remember where we are.

It’s all coming back to me in one dizzying rush. The sound of live violinists. Everyone telling me to stay inside. The hideously decorated barge. George in his favourite white suit, looking like a multi-level-marketing cult leader, holding a megaphone. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that George was about to propose to me.

But I have a fuckton of other questions.

Why in the world—and I mean the whole fucking Earth, from our moon to the Mariana Trench—did Murph help George do this? After all his promises to keep me safe… he just helped my ex step straight out of my nightmares and humiliate me in front of the whole fucking city.

I swipe my hand across my eyes, finally peeling them open despite the sting of salt water. We’re on the barge deck. That makes sense. We couldn’t have hauled ourselves out of the water onto Dawn’s Embrace this easily.

Not even the sight of a soaking wet and half-naked Murph underneath me can stop me from getting into my feelings. This white-hot fire flashes through me, making all the muscles in my body coil up until I’m stiff as a board. And I can’t help remembering what Kieran said earlier this afternoon.

Let yourself be mad when you need to be mad.

And I do. I’m mad as hell—and for the first time in my life, I’m not going to just swallow it.

Murph’s face is creased with concern. His hand slides up my back toward my forehead, like he’s about to push my hair out of my eyes. “Sweetheart?—”

“Whoa.” I toss my head, pulling out of his reach. I sit up, my throat tight with fury. I don’t even want to be mad at Murph, especially after he’s just saved me. But the sparks filling my body are impossible to contain. I’m on my feet so fast that my head spins, and I stumble.

Murph’s eyes snap open with alarm as he sits up fast, too, and reaches for me as if to stop me. “Careful?—”

“No,” I cut him off, clinging to the side of the boat and spreading my feet wide to balance as I blink away the tears. Fuck. Now that I’m crying, I’m even angrier. “Don’t you dare tell me to—to be careful —when—when—!” My voice cuts out, so I furiously throw my arms open as wide as I can, gesturing at the barge all around us. I think it’s clear as day what I’m trying to say.

You did this. Why?

As my gaze flickers back and forth between Murph’s eyes, his face falls. The guilt sweeping across it is almost enough to puncture a hole in my fury. He looks… devastated.

“Eden—”

“Eden!”

Shit. I’d almost forgotten about his oily, insincere, insufferable voice. But of course George is here, rushing up to me like a long-lost lover, groaning loudly. “Thank god you’re safe.” He’s using his show voice. He only talks to me like this when other people are listening, and he wants them to think he gives a shit about me— the old backup plan .

My stomach turns, but he isn’t stopping there. I can’t believe it, but he’s actually about to fucking hug me. I’m going stiff, but he doesn’t even notice. He just flings his arms around me and grabs hold. Time slows down again. I’m frozen to the spot with sheer fury.

How fucking dare he?

Murph rolls straight from the deck onto his feet and storms over to us, his footsteps ringing on the barge deck. Written over every inch of his body is this look I recognize instantly, even if I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so clearly on anyone’s face before: protective rage.

Holy crap.

Murph cares. He really, really fucking cares about me. And I already knew that, but seeing it right now… everything snaps into clarity, like ripping off a blindfold. Murph’s first instinct is so immediate. He never wants anything more than my safety, except for perhaps my happiness.

Even if he fucks up sometimes… he’s everything I ever wanted.

I trust Murph. We’ll figure things out.

But George? The half-formed amoeba of a man who’s draping his limp noodle arms around me, groaning like a Victorian widow in mourning? He deserves every ounce of the anger simmering in my body, and then some.

I twist myself out of George’s hold in one simple pirouette, and then I reach out to put my hand on Murph’s chest as he storms up to us. “Wait. Let me talk, before you throw him in.”

“Hm,” Murph grunts, like he’s going to try his best.

Even so, he crowds right up to both of us, almost toe-to-toe. He doesn’t take his eyes off George as he grits his jaw, curling his hands into fists. He’s inches away, like he remembers his promise not to leave me alone in it.

And with him here, I feel safe. Hell, more than that… I feel braver than I’ve been in my life. So I look back at George the way I’ve long wanted to, my lip curling in disgust. “And you ? You don’t get to fucking touch me. Ever.”

George’s eyes fly wide open. He actually looks nervous for once in his life as he steps back a couple of paces so he can look up at Murph, then down at me again. “What the—” he starts to snap, like we should be punished for daring to speak to him.

Then he breaks off. His gaze flicks to the side, and it couldn’t be more obvious that he’s just remembered that he brought the whole fucking audience. In a split-second, he composes himself and adopts a look of disbelief and hurt.

I can’t believe how long I let him get away with this shit—how long I thought that the bigger a performance he put on, the more he loved me. It makes me downright queasy. Or maybe that’s all the salt water I swallowed while almost drowning. Which never would have happened if this slimeball hadn’t been hell-bent on getting what he wants, no matter the cost.

George has royally fucked us around. It’s time for him to find out.... and I know exactly where to start.

“You laughed.”