Eden
I wake up on a thin mattress to the smell of disinfectant. For one groggy moment, I think I’m in a supermarket, collapsed in the home comforts aisle. Then I blink away sleep, and I hear the beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor somewhere down the hall. I lean up on my elbow, wincing as the bandages tug on my head.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Mom says. She stands over me, takes my shoulders lightly, and pushes me back down onto the mattress. “You had a concussion, Eden. Not a terribly concussion, but when are concussions ever good, you know?”
“Oh,” I grunt, allowing myself to be pushed back down.
For a split-second, when I was in that half-dreamy state, I could almost trick myself into believing it had all been a mad dream. Of course, I, a simple student, a simple programmer, had not been involved in a shootout, or a house burning down, or . . . any of it.
“Where’s Maddox?” I ask.
“Getting us some coffees,” Mom says. I turn my head and face her. Even that small movement hurts, but staring at the ceiling is oddly depressing. “He’s such a nice boy, isn’t it?” Mom goes on. Her jaw is purple, the skin raised in a nasty bruise, but otherwise, she looks okay. “It’s been two days, and he hasn’t left your side for a moment. I’ve told him, oh, I’ve told him—you can go on ahead, I’ll stay with her. But he won’t hear it. Sometimes he has to leave us to go and talk with some big brute of a man: a cuddly bear type.”
“That’ll be Markus,” I tell her. “Club business.”
“Club business,” she repeats, a youthful glint in her eye. “It’s all so dramatic!”
“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much, Mom,” I comment, but I’m smiling.
“Oh, maybe.” She shrugs. “Do you need anything?”
When she asks the question, I realize how dry my mouth is. “Water,” I breathe.
She takes a plastic cup from the bedside table, leans across, and puts a straw in my mouth. I suck greedily, sighing as the refreshing coolness goes down my throat. She takes the straw away, and I lick my lips, trying to get some moisture to her. Cassandra, the fire—the fire! “Mom, the house . . .”
“The insurance will cover it,” she says. “I’ve already checked. Well, we’ve already checked. Maddox has been a huge help, you know. He has a friend – I say friend, but I’m not sure they’re too friendly – who works for my insurance company. He’s a very resourceful man.”
“Careful, Mom. Anybody would think you had a crush.”
We meet eyes, hold it for a second, and then burst out into laughter.
“Am I missing the fun?” Maddox asks as he walks into the room, holding two coffees. He walks around the bed and hands a coffee to Mom and then pulls up a seat, so he’s right next to me. I make to move my arm, but I’m exhausted like I’ve just run a marathon, with a skydive for seconds and a cross-country bike for thirds.
“Maddox,” I whisper, grinning at him. I fill with warmth at the sight of him. And then I notice the tube sticking out of my arm and think: Or is it the morphine? Whatever it is, I’m glad he’s here.
“Eden,” he smiles.
Mom rises to her feet, holding her hands up in defeat. “Never say I don’t know when to make a polite exit,” she says. “I’ll be outside, tending this beautiful cup of coffee your lover so graciously purchased for me.”
“Uh, sure,” I say. “Thanks, Mom.”
When she closes the door, leaving Maddox and me alone, I nod to Mom’s empty chair. Then I wince because nodding isn’t such a good idea. “What’s got into her?” I ask. “She’s like a different woman.”
“The excitement has brought out a different side to her, it seems,” Maddox says. “Not that I’d know what she was like before. But, yes, she certainly seems to be having fun, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does.”
A pause, and then I ask a question that will burn a hole in me if I hold it in any longer. “Maddox, what happened to Cassandra?”
“She’s locked up,” Maddox says. “Evidence is piled against her. Not just the embezzling charge, but assault, arson, attempted murder. There are a few technical charges relating to tapping my phones, too. She’s broken quite a few laws. I can’t believe I had no clue she’d tapped them. In a way, Eden—”
“Stop it,” I say at once. “This is her fault. What was your crime? Having a phone and not checking it for hacks? Don’t be silly, Maddox.”
He nods. “Mason’s doubling down. Turns out he’s a sneaky man, too. Perhaps sneakier than Cassandra. He had their house tapped. That’s not illegal, you know, because it’s his own home. They have the recording of Cassandra bragging to me, along with half a dozen recordings of Cassandra bragging about their plan to embezzle all that money. No recordings of Mason, though. My guess is when they wanted to discuss it, Mason led her away from the house. But of course she couldn’t resist the urge to brag.”
“No,” I agree. “Cassandra doesn’t seem like the type for self-restraint.”
Maddox sips his coffee and then places it down beside the water. “How’s your head?” he asks.
“Groggy,” I answer. “Is there any damage?”
“Just some bruising,” Maddox says. “You had an MRI. Do you remember?”
“No, was I awake?”
“Yeah.” Maddox grins boyishly. “You were singing the lyrics to some pop song like a drunk woman. The doc said there might be some short-term memory loss.”
“Maybe I should be thankful,” I joke, imagining myself singing so loudly the entire hospital can hear.
Maddox takes my hand. “Eden,” he says. “There’s something I want to tell you. I’ve never said it to anyone before.”
Suddenly his gaze is turned to the floor. He bites his lip nervously.
“Maddox,” I say. “Look at me.”
With a visible effort, he looks up.
“I love you, too,” I smile.
He bends down and kisses my hand.