Page 70 of Unleashed By Eden

He exhales down his nose, and the sound slides through me, warming everything it touches.

I fall for him just a little bit more.

Teenage me would probably melt down if she knew this was coming. I can picture it now—us, beyond the tour. The hotel rooms and backstage scraps replaced with mornings. Weeks. Maybe even years. The idea of staying by his side—of building something real with him—doesn’t feel impossible anymore.

Knowing I have time with him is a gift.

I’m not wasting a fucking second of it.

Chapter twenty

Violet

Ten years ago

Four months after the horrific couch incident, I finally get my own place. School’s done, and I was counting the seconds until I could get the hell out of Riverstone.

Calling it an apartment is generous. It’s more like a box with plumbing and a window that looks out over the back of a kebab shop, but it’s mine. Mine in the way nothing has ever been before. The place is so small I have to brush my teeth and do the dishes in the same sink. The bedroom only just fits a double mattress, which I had to wedge between the walls while swearing my head off.

I loved it on sight.

At least Jeanine’s out of the picture. Carter is too, and that one cuts deeper than I’d like.

I’m standing in the middle of the lounge with a pair of scissors in one hand and an unpacked box at my feet, trying to decide whether to put away the mugs or cutlery first, when there’s a knock at the door.

Liam doesn’t wait for me to answer. He lets himself in with the spare key I immediately regret giving him.

“Well,” he says, stepping inside with a six-pack tucked under one arm and his uni backpack hanging off one shoulder, “look at you.”

I fold my arms. “You say that like I’m renting a penthouse.”

He grins, turning in a slow circle. “Nah. It’s tiny. Bit shit. Weird smell. But…” His eyes land on me. “It’s yours.”

I nod and swallow roughly.

He drops the beer on the counter and walks over to the window. “Nice view.”

“It’s a brick wall and a kebab shop.”

“Yeah, but it’s your brick wall.” He glances back at me. “I’m proud of you, Vi.”

I hate when he does that. Gets sincere when I’m not emotionally prepared.

I shrug and squat by the open box instead, grabbing the forks and sorting them into the kitchen drawer. “Don’t get soft on me.”

“Too late.” He kicks one of the boxes lightly with his shoe. “You sure you don’t want to move in with me?”

There it is.

“And ruin this glamorous lifestyle?”

“I’m serious.” He leans his hip against the counter. “I’ve got the spare room. It’d save you money. You wouldn’t have to work as much while you figure things out.”

I slide the drawer shut. “I know you’re serious.”

“Then think about it.”

“I have.” I brush cardboard dust off my hands. “And I don’t want to.”