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“When did you say we can move into our new home?” She bites his ear playfully. “I have so many plans for when we’re in a bedroom with solid walls, and you can make me scream.”
Her eyes drive him wild, weariness leaving his body with thoughts of tonight.
If only the happiness from Eden came in a tablet form Samuel could take every day. In the back of his mind, he knows even Eden can only heal him so much.
Now that the nightmares have returned, he’s fighting something not even Eden can cure.
16
EDEN
In the dark, I reach out to silence my phone on the bedside table. The high-pitch ringing sound brings me out of my sleep. Before I tap any buttons, I squint at the name on the screen.
Michael FaceTime Video
“Samuel,” I whisper. “Michael is trying to FaceTime us?”
“What?” he murmurs. “How does he have your number?”
“Yasmine gave it to me a long time ago just in case. He’s never tried to FaceTime. Something could be wrong. Is he trying to reach you?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.” I sit up, flick on the light, adjust the covers, then swipe the screen. “Michael, is everything okay?”
“Morning,” he says, all chirpy. In the background, the branches on the trees are swaying and a rustling noise comes through the speaker. Michael’s face zooms closer as he takes a sip of coffee in a takeout cup. “I have no clue when an ideal time is to call.” He hesitates. “Sorry if I’ve woken you.”
Samuel pushes up and leans into me so his face appears on the screen. “Michael.”
“Christ, you look like shit.”
“It’s the middle of the night, and I have work tomorrow, so what’s up?” Samuel runs his hands up and down his face to wake himself.
“I know you’re not in contact with anyone. Last night Brant was killed in a car accident.”
I inhale a sharp breath. “Brant, who attended college with you both?”
On the screen, our faces are minimized in the corner. A dark shadow falls over his face, yet his expression is unreadable. It’s how he processes emotion.
In Ulara, Samuel told me how Brant was not kind to Inesa, yet it doesn’t make it any less sad.
“Right.” Michael wipes an eye. “He’d reached out to me only a few weeks ago to say he got his shit together, and we planned to catch up. I put him off until next week.” He looks into the phone and directly at Samuel. “We’re not supposed to die at our age. And I’ve been waiting to tell you the same thing, that I have my shit together and finally working in a great accounting firm. Been promoted in less than a year.”
This is what Yasmine has been trying to tell us.
“Michael, while I appreciate the call, I’m sorry about Brant, but I can’t chat now. I have work in the morning, and so does Eden. We can do this on the weekend.”
Samuel hits the end button and rolls onto his side. “Brant wouldn’t have cared if I died in the middle of the fucking jungle.” He pulls up the covers to his neck as I rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”
I let out a sigh and switch off the light. The Samuel I know is compassionate and caring and, under the circumstances, would have given Michael the time to chat. I understand Samuel is stressed and exhausted. Only this isn’t him. He was abrupt. Brant had changed. Michael is trying. The way Samuel is handling his stress concerns me. It’s why he can’t manage more emotion and sadness because his sanity is hanging on by a thread and could snap at any moment.
I slide down the bed and spoon him. Wrapping my arm around his waist, I simply hold him.
“I love you,” I whisper.
For now, all he needs is love.
* * *
