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Eden launches off her barstool and comes barreling straight at me. In the seconds it takes for her to cross the floor, I notice two things simultaneously. She’s not locked up here like I expected she would be, and she seems strangely comfortable in these surroundings. So I suppose they haven’t been treating her too badly.
“Lyric?” She nearly crashes into me, then stumbles a little to the left, obviously tipsy. “Jesus, I was beginning to wonder if you were dead.”
I look her over, and she seems healthy. She doesn’t even look a little bit miserable, and while Tank is clearly keeping a watchful eye on her, she’s roaming around as she pleases.
“You two can go visit.” Madden points at an empty table. “Stay where I can see you.”
I glance up at him, and our gazes catch for a second. I don’t know why, but the idea of being separated from him doesn’t bring me the relief I’m sure I should feel. Instead, a strange flutter of anxiety occupies my chest, and I’m not even sure how to process that.
His palm grazes my arm as he leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. “Be good.”
I swallow as a shiver rolls through me, but before I get a chance to respond, Eden yanks me in the other direction.
“Come on,” she hisses. “We have to talk.”
She drags me across the room to the empty table Madden gestured to, being surprisingly compliant. I would have expected her to suggest we escape at the first chance, but right now, it doesn’t look like she plans to go anywhere.
“Tell me everything.” She hops up on her seat and stares at me intently. “What does he know?”
“Madden?” I ask dumbly, buying myself a few seconds as I consider how to answer.
If Eden knew I gave him any information at all, she’d come uncorked. And if she knew I’d already crossed some lines with him, she’d launch into a tirade I’m not prepared to deal with right now. But she isn’t buying my innocent act, which she makes clear when her eyes narrow at me.
“Seriously?” She taps my forehead. “Is there a functioning brain in there? Of course, I’m talking about fucking dickbag over there, whatever the hell his name is. What does the prick know?”
My jaw clamps down, and I have to suppress the urge to tell her to shut the hell up. I don’t like the way she’s talking about him, which isn’t something I care to analyze too deeply. But Eden won’t let this go, so I tell her what she wants to hear.
“He doesn’t know anything about me,” I say. “I don’t think he cares, either. He’s convinced I’m someone else.”
“So what have you been doing at his place?” A hint of accusation carries in her tone. “And why are you calling him Madden?”
Given what Birdie told me, I want to ask her the same thing, but I know it will just start a fight.
“Nothing,” I clip out. “He’s kept me locked in a room. Until a day ago, I hadn’t even been allowed out. Then he just came and got me tonight and said we were coming here.”
“But he thinks you’re someone else.” Eden leans in as if she’s only just realized how loud she’s being. “What has he said about her?”
“She was his brother’s fiancée,” I tell her reluctantly. “And when his brother was murdered, she went missing. Now everyone thinks he’s responsible for it, and he’s convinced I’m her and that I have the answers to what really happened.”
“Well, he’s obviously fucking insane.” Her eyes dart in his direction. “Have you seen any photos of her?”
I shift in my seat and swallow. “I’ve seen photos.”
“And?” Eden demands.
“And… she does look like me,” I admit. “Exactly like me. Birdie told me she could be my twin. So it isn’t just Madden who thinks so. But when I look at those images… I don’t know how to explain it. I just know I’m not her.”
Eden tenses, and I can see the wheels turning in her mind as she considers how this might change things. “Have you remembered anything else?”
“Only that I can cook.” I shrug. “And that seemed to be more of a confirmation to Madden because apparently, this girl he knew went to culinary school.”
Before Eden can bombard me with another question, a cocktail server appears.
“Can I get you ladies anything?”
“We’ll have two shots of tequila and two more of these.” Eden holds up her glass of beer.
“I haven’t eaten anything all day,” I tell her as the server leaves. “It’s probably not a great idea to start drinking.”
“Come on, live a little,” she says. “What else is there to do in this wasteland?”
I shrug, and she nods as if to justify her demands. Sometimes it’s easier not to argue with Eden, and I forgot how tiring she can be.
