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It looked like she’d be staying a while.
Jos pretty much threw herself out of the car. Her eyes were so blue and wide that Eden nearly gasped when Jos turned around to slam the door. She kicked off her pumps in a shocking fit of…something…and stalked across the garage’s pristine concrete, over to the house door. She punched in a code and threw that open far too viciously.
She didn’t stop there. As soon as she was inside, Eden trailing after her at a safe distance, she tore off her blazer and ripped at the top buttons of her blouse like it was too confining and restricted her breath. Her shoulders heaved as she drew in great gulps of oxygen, but it didn’t seem like anything was getting to her lungs.
Was she having a panic attack? Eden had been on the street, talking to people, witnessing the harsh realities that came along with being homeless, for a long time. That meant everything from what people did when they were extremely high to overdoses. A major part of the book she’d written, of every story she’d wrote, was the way mental health played into the equation. She’d seen panic attacks before. The way Jos was breathing…
Eden rushed forward and got in Jos’ space enough that she couldn’t help but see her. She still gave her room to breathe. She didn’t dare touch her, though she wanted to reach out and set a hand on her shoulder. No matter how they’d left things last time, Eden was desperate to make things better, even if she knew she couldn’t make them alright. Jos’ obvious pain settled like a fist in her chest and turned her stomach into a battleground of apprehension.
“Jos. You need to take a breath. Not like you’re doing.” Eden demonstrated by breathing in slowly, then letting the air out slowly. She felt like she was suffocating too, the minute Jos’ eyes flew to hers and she was sucked into that vortex of an emotional storm.
“Breathe?” Jos rasped sarcastically. It was almost a hiss. She was pissed. Better pissed and breathing than having a full-blown panic attack. “I didn’t tell anyone about the miscarriage. I only told the people who I had to tell that I was pregnant, and they didn’t want to do anything with that information until it was convenient for them. I told my boss, Alden. You met him today, but you probably met so many people that he didn’t stand out. He told his boss, and so on, but no one but them knew. Do you understand?”
Eden didn’t. Not really.
“No, of course you don’t. Why would you? You’re untouchable. Your name makes you untouchable. Heaven help them if they ever want to fire you. The clapback would be enormous.”
Eden ignored that. Her dad wouldn’t do anything to anyone who wanted to fire her for a legitimate reason. But what if it wasn’t? What if someone tried to edge her out and used something extremely personal to hurt her and make it obvious?
“I still think the story was just…that it coincided with the timing of the actual…”
Jos’ eyes blazed hot fire, shutting Eden the heck up. She let out a yelp when Jos’ hand grasped her arm. Suddenly, she was pulling her, tugging Eden along so fast that she could barely stay on her feet. Her hand was hard and firm, but it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t the hard grip that made Eden afraid, or even the urgent speed they were traveling.
It was that Jos didn’t say anything. She was like a tropical storm, ready to burst over them and raze them both to the ground. The vibes she gave off were strangely not so angry. She was…God, Eden didn’t even know what she was. She was a contradiction of emotions, but she could feel the tide turning. That hurricane was no longer a force of rage. That hurricane was sad. Immeasurably sad.
Jos stopped in front of a closed door on the top floor. Eden hadn’t even noticed it when she was up there before. Then again, she’d been slightly drunk on whisky and Jos, and in the morning, she’d been pissed. It was just a door. A door that probably had anything behind it. An office.
But it wasn’t anything.
Fuck, it was so far from anything.
Jos twisted the handle and shoved the door in and there was no computer, no neatly contained and forgotten about storage, no boxes of Christmas ornaments or knickknacks. The room was smaller in comparison to the rest of the house, but it was still expansive. It was done in neutral colors, yellows and grays and creams, a high contrast to the overwhelming white in the rest of the place. There was an espresso hued crib with a soft yellow baby blanket draped over the side. A rocker with another, larger blanket covering the seat. A changing table that matched the crib with super tiny little articles of clothing folded below.
A nursery.
Jos’ hold on Eden’s arm unwound and so did she. She unspooled like thread, collapsing against the hallway wall, her face turned away from the room.
Eden stepped forward and carefully closed the door. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t going to mention anything about the studio again. If someone had given Jos that story for a reason, because they wanted to hurt her, that was appalling. They’d timed it perfectly. Even more devious.
It disgusted Eden if it was the truth, but she couldn’t know for sure. After their guest speaker today, Eden was more aware than ever what an important topic it was to talk about. How so many people went through it alone and suffered for years and years after. Other people needed to hear that message. People who were grieving, who didn’t know how to find help. People who weren’t aware. People who loss had never touched that way. It was important for everyone.
People like Jos.
There was no right thing to say, but Eden took a chance. Jos showed her that room for a reason. She hadn’t wanted to, but she did. It was like wrenching whatever healing had gone on off of a festering wound and exposing it for another layer of salt. Eden wasn’t salt. She wanted to be anything but salt.
She touched Jos’ hand gently
. Almost as if she didn’t want to frighten her off. She let her hand keep going, smoothing up Jos’ arm. Jos didn’t move. She didn’t pull away or fight Eden off. She was so tense, her body rigid, every muscle like stone. It was like wrapping her arms around a statue, but Eden did it anyway. She muttered something soothing, how sorry she was, and ran her hand over Jos’ back in small circles. She wished she could tell her it was going to be okay, but she didn’t know that. She couldn’t know that. It was clearly not okay right now. She didn’t believe in platitudes, and she hated being fake more than anything.
She didn’t stop comforting Jos because Jos didn’t tell her to. Eventually, she took a risk and wrapped her arms around Jos’ neck and hugged her tightly, pressing their bodies together.
Eden knew she would have cried if it was the other way around, but Jos didn’t cry. She didn’t make a sound. Her heart had to be broken, but she wasn’t letting any of it show.
What kind of control did that take?
The only indication of sorrow she gave was a harsh breath, drawn in through aching lungs. When she pulled away just an inch and looked into Jos’ face, she saw every bit of that nameless, aching pain gnawing inside Jos. It was there, mirrored in her eyes, before she blinked, shutting it down, closing herself off.
Jos stepped back, but she wasn’t letting Eden go. She grasped her wrists and twisted her, pinning Eden to the wall with the full length of her body. She stretched her arms overhead, Eden’s wrists high against the wall, leaving her open and defenseless.
