Page 144 of Pretty Thing

“I thought you were going with band names?”

I cuddle closer.

“Yeah, but…this way I’ll always be reminded that there is happiness and hope in the world despite all the horrible things.”

“That’s perfect,” Felix says, and I close my eyes.

“I’ll put the clothes away tomorrow. I’m too tired to do it now.”

He kisses the top of my head.

“You can leave them there and live out of the bags if you want. You can redecorate. I want you to be comfortable here, Eden. My home is your home.”

I know he means well, but I’m not sure anyplace will ever truly feel the same as the house I grew up in, that was…home. It’s gone now, and there is no getting it back. But a part of my heart will always remain with the ashes.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

Taking a deep breath, I let sleep pull me under.

I don’t know how Felix does it. From the moment my eyes open, all I can think about is the crash and every horrific thing that has happened since that day.

But not Felix.

It doesn’t matter that we only learned of Kyle’s death yesterday. Felix is up, whistling, making breakfast, and heading down to work like it’s just another day. I know they weren’t close. Hell, Kyle didn’t even like Felix, but still. We’re just built different, I guess.

Felix has already moved the bags of clothing into the bedroom and made room for me. His clothes are all pushed to one side now.

I start by dumping everything on the bed. Then I sort jeans and hoodies from T-shirts and dress clothes. I have socks, underwear, and even the right size bra.

Okay, that’s impressive.

“This is way too much,” I whisper.

I pick up item after item, doing a brief tally in my head. There is at least a couple thousand dollars worth here, and that’s not including the new runners, eight-hole Docs, and cute dress shoes.

By the time I’m done, the world doesn’t feel like it’s crushing me anymore…at least, for now. I’ve been that way since I was little. I think it’s called a coping mechanism.

I’ve never shared a closet with anyone. I don’t hate it. It’s nice to see Felix’s clothes coexisting with mine.

It’s time to leave the closet before I start crying again.

But then a low hum catches my attention. I don’t see anything that would make that sound. There aren’t any fans on in the bedroom, and the furnace shut off a bit ago and hasn’t turned on again.

Stepping away from the closet, it’s quieter.

“That’s weird.”

Back in the closet, I can hear it better, but it doesn’t get louder until I move toward Felix’s clothes.

Grabbing his shirts, I move them aside. Nothing unusual pops out at me until I pull all his clothes to the center. On the far right-hand side is a door with a padlock. It blends seamlessly into the wall, and without the lock you wouldn’t even know it’s there. Looking closer, there is a small indentation for fingers, but no actual handle.

That’s strange.

Felix is still downstairs, so the rest of the loft is quiet. I put my ear to the door, and the humming is more intense. It sounds like fans—multiple fans. What the heck kind of room is this?

Does he have a panic room? A secret red room? A torture chamber?

“Eden?”