Besotted by Rebecca Sharp

Eve

They say you can’t lose something you never had. But I’d lost something… someone… who’d never been mine, and the distinct hollow vacuum in my chest was unequivocal proof.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked as my sister looked over the images I’d picked up off the apartment floor again.

“Are you?” Her head tipped up and her gaze met mine, rich with concern yet without judgment.

I took a steadying breath.

I’d put an offer in yesterday for the house—my house. It was a little preemptive and a little under what the asking price was; it was also using every dime in my savings account to go toward the down payment with just enough left over for one month’s rent at the church’s apartments. But I didn’t have a choice; I was having this baby and he or she was going to have a home.

Maybe I was emotional. Maybe I was a little reckless putting myself so close to the doorstep of the poorhouse, but for me, it was the only way. Having a place of my own had been my dream. It didn’t bother me to have to ask to borrow money for other things, but I wouldn’t put the burden or stress of asking my siblings or friends to accommodate myself and my baby.

“This has always been my dream, Addy.” I shuffled closer to her desk. “I think it’s about time I started living it.”

“And Miles?” She arched an eyebrow.

It was the first time she’d asked about him since I’d shown up in her office with a face so red and splotchy it was a wonder she didn’t offer me a Benadryl on sight.

That was me, allergic to heartbreak.

After crying for a good hour after Miles walked out the other night, I slowly picked up all the broken pieces of me along with all the pictures of my house and put them in my bag.

I couldn’t stay there. I knew he thought—maybe hoped that I would. But I couldn’t. Not when every single inch of that apartment had a suitcase full of memories with Miles.

I’d been on the verge of calling Addy for a ride, shutting the apartment door—and the love I thought I’d found—behind me when Gwen came up the steps and, taking one look at me, went into full-on nurse mode and offered to take me over to Blooms. There, in a voice hollowed by hurt, I told my sister about the baby.

“I won’t force him to do anything.” I paused and shook my head as the memories of his accusations hit me like a head-on collision. “No matter what he thinks, I won’t force him to be a part of the baby’s or my life.”

“He hasn’t called?”

I shook my head mutely. No word. No message. No sign. And without me having to ask, Jules volunteered that Mick hadn’t heard from his brother either.

Even though he was a giant ass for what he said, I understood his hurt. I understood his fear. Because, if you’d managed to be one of the few saved off the Titanic, how would you feel to wake up and realize someone had pulled you back onto another trans-Atlantic cruise liner without your knowing?

But just because I could understand it, didn’t mean I was okay with how he’d treated me.

No, the words he’d said went round and round in my head, spinning faster and faster as each day progressed until, at the end of the day, I fell down.

Until I broke down and wept for the love I thought I’d found.

I went back through every moment—every instance from the day I’d met him—and watched as I fell farther and farther. I watched as I convinced myself, hopeless romantic that I was, that I would be okay with whatever he could give me. One night. One week. One month.

One baby.

But one would never be enough. Because, for a romantic, one didn’t exist. There was only. There was ever. But there was never just one.

“I’m sorry, Evie.”

I coughed in an attempt to not let her hear my strangled cry. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how much it hurt to hear that nickname now.

But even though I was a romantic, and even though my heart was broken, there were other dreams worth holding on to—other parts of my future that would deserve my attention now. I wasn’t going to just wait around to see what he decided to do. Contrary to his belief, I was perfectly fine taking the next step toward my future with or without him.

If perfectly fine meant that my heart’s broken remains were shoved in a suitcase of sorrows that I had to cart around with me.

Then I was definitely perfectly fine.

“He’ll come around,” she offered quietly, and my heart jerked against its chains wanting to believe her. “If he loves you like I heard he does, like you love him, he’ll come around.”

I reeled my heart back in and thinned my lips.

I wanted to deny it. I wanted to say that after what he said I didn’t—couldn’t—love him anymore. But that would be like saying I didn’t love being out in the sun even though I’d been burned once or twice.

As much as I appreciated the love and support from the girls in the house and from Gwen and Jules, I was tired of getting my heart and my hopes up for Miles Madison.

“Well, if he does, I’ll be at Sunflower Lane. Building my future that never needed to include him in the first place.”

But wanted to. Oh so desperately wanted to…

I stepped out onto the porch and took a deep breath. It was a beautiful day out—the kind of beautiful that cleared the street because everyone was either on the beach or out at the wineries.

Turning toward Ocean Avenue, I decided to stop into Roasters and see how Laurel was doing. With everything that had happened, I’d called and asked if I could switch shifts with her the past two days because I’d felt so nauseated and drained. And because I’d seen Miles at Roasters almost every day since that first night and, after he left, I couldn’t bear the thought of being in one more place where he wouldn’t be.

About a half a block from the intersection, my eyes caught on a couple on the other side of the street, talking on the other side of a shiny, tinted out black sedan.

Maybe it was the car that had originally caught my eye—the way the black seemed like a giant toxic oil spill on the beautiful, pristine blue-sky day.

Maybe it was the way Cammie’s pale blonde hair shimmered so brightly in the sunlight that it reflected like a mirror.

Or maybe it was because your body always seems to sense when there is something bad happening. Like the energy is magnetic, demanding you decide which instinct to follow: fight or flight.

Before I could make the decision, my body made it for me. Stepping into the empty street, I began to cross over to the other sidewalk when I recognized the man she was talking to.

Trent.

And for some reason, it only made sense that a bad man would be dressed in such a sharp black suit on such a beautiful Wednesday.

“I-I’m really not interested, thank you.” I heard Cammie insist and watched as she attempted to gently pull her shoulder out from Trent’s grip as he tried to hand her something.

“Cam, are you okay?” I called when I was a few feet from them.

Both sets of eyes turned to mine and while one held relief, the other recognition… and irritation.

By the end of my question, I’d reached them and Trent let go of his grip on Cammie’s sleeve as I stepped partially in front of her like some sort of shield.

I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew it was the right thing as my heart pumped proudly in my chest. I wasn’t going to let this slick dick bully my friend.

I ignored Trent, putting my hand on Cambria’s elbow and finding her gaze. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly even though I could feel her arm shaking underneath my hand. “Yeah. I just… I’m not interested in his party.” Her eyes slid back to Trent. “Sorry.”

I winced. She shouldn’t be apologizing.

“Just thought it would be something fun.” He shrugged with an ease that made it look like he didn’t care, but with an abruptness that felt like he’d just failed at something. “How about you, Miss Eve?”

The smile he gave me was almost cruel—like I’d asked Miles to slam his face into the bar three weeks ago.

“No, thank you,” I replied just as tightly.

With a curt nod, he went to shove his card back into the metallic card holder he’d pulled from his pocket. In the process, it slipped from his grip and tumbled to the ground, spilling the contents everywhere.

There are moments when the habit of being a nice person overrides instinctual caution—and bending down to help him pick up the cards was one of them.

Everything moved in slow motion. My hand extended to grab the cards that landed on my sneakers and froze when I realized that some weren’t business cards. One specifically was a license. A driver’s license for Barbara Holland.

There were seconds of recognition for everyone. Seconds when my heart stopped in order to funnel every ounce of energy to my brain to remember where I’d heard that name before.

Young girl abducted on Cove Lane.

The Crown. Trafficking.

Barbara Holland.

I couldn’t stop my hand from jerking back as I stood and swayed back into Cammie. And those were the seconds when he looked up at me and knew that I knew.

Whatever had happened to that poor girl, he’d been involved. And now he was trying to take Cammie, too.

“Cam… get back…” I instructed her softly, my eyes never leaving Trent’s narrowing ones as he rose to his full height over me. I straightened my shoulders and hissed, “What did you do to that girl?”

“Never should’ve crossed the road, Eve.” He clucked his tongue at me. “Your big bad boyfriend isn’t here to protect you.”

Fear burned alongside fury in my veins, but I only had a moment to feel the flames before he lunged at me, and I screamed, “Run, Cammie!”

I could only thank God there was one of him and two of us. At least, it meant Cammie would get away.

I pushed into her but not quick enough to avoid his grasp. Thick hot fingers clamped around my arms like leather shackles, cinching into my flesh. The force sent Cam tumbling to the ground and, like I was a bystander on the scene, I heard myself yell to her to run as I continued to fight from Trent’s punishing grip.

Bending, I threw my shoulder and my weight against his torso, sending us both reeling backward toward the ground. It was painful as I crashed on top of him, the violent jar to my body sending up a million silent prayers that my baby was okay. I had to save my baby.

I had to save Cammie.

The thud and crunch of his body into the sidewalk gave me strength and the focus to keep fighting.

I knew what came next after the takedown. I remembered vividly crashing on top of Jo over and over again as Benny taught us how to gain control from the ground. But I wasn’t alone. And Cammie wasn’t running.

Using the precious few moments I had while Trent had the wind knocked out of him, I scrambled away and rushed to Cambria who sat paralyzed in fear on the ground.

Of course, I was afraid. Fear and adrenaline rushed down me like a waterfall. But Cammie… I’d never seen a look on her face like the one she wore in that moment, like a corpse, the part of her—of us—that fought to live was already gone.

Grabbing her arms I shook her. “Cammie, you have to get up and run.” Coming slightly awake, she looked to me and realized she needed to comply. “We need to get out of—”

I broke off with a cry as Trent’s claws dug into my shoulders and whipped me back, slamming me front first against the side of the car, my head knocking painfully against the hot black metal.

“Fucking cunt.” He shoved harder. “Doesn’t feel good, does it?”

I didn’t answer him, instead I mouthed to Cammie who was backing away, Run.

Finally, she listened, taking off down the street back toward Blooms. I was still in danger, but I could’ve wept with relief.

Trent tensed behind me, knowing this wasn’t going according to plan but there was no way he could’ve restrained me and gone after her at the same time.

“Should’ve just stayed on your side of the road,” he snarled behind me, wedging his weight against mine.

It didn’t matter that it felt like I was pushing back against a brick wall, I fought. I struggled to get out of his grasp even though a part of me knew I wasn’t going to be able to. I could only hope that Cammie got to someone soon.

“Stupid fucking bitch.” The hot vitriol of his breath eroded my ear just before a firework of pain exploded in the back of my head and the world went black.