Chapter 7

"Come anytime you'd like."

His voice was soft. Truthful.

It ought to have eased the hurt, dulled the edge. And it may have—below the surface. Enough to stop me from fully falling apart on his bed.

Enzo touched me, wrapped my fingers into his—warm and rough. Rough in a way that made me feel safe. His thumb drawing slow, lazy loops on the palm of my hand. Like he had to soothe me. Like I mattered.

But I knew better.

The image of both of them together.

I can't stop thinking about it.

His eyes, blank,blazing, met mine.

And God—they revealed too much.

They weren't just eyes. They were confessional booths.

My lips quivered, but I swallowed the tears. I was tired of crying. Tired of this cycle I kept repeating, always finding myself back at him.

"I'll go get something," he said, standing to move.

"No—" My hand extended, grasping his.

Tight.

Desperate.

As if to let him go would be to watch him slip away from me again.

He braced on the spot.

His brows furrowed in that manner they always did whenever he was concerned. Or confused. Or both.

He didn't say a word initially. Just stared at me as though he could see the tornado building up within me.

Then his voice dropped to a mere whisper.

"What happened, Bella?"

Bella.

That one word nearly killed me.

He hadn't said that to me in so long. It wasn't a nickname—it was a memory. A thousand memories condensed into five letters.

I swung around, blinking hard.

"Nothing," I said, voice brittle. "It's just… I keep screwing everything up. Again and again. I don't even know how many times I've made you have to deal with my idiot tri—"

"Shh."

His finger against my lips, gentle, but tightly enough to silence the self-loathing spilling from me.

"Slow down," he murmured. "Breathe, Evelyn."

He smiled then. That same smile that used to make my stomach perform flips like a goddamn acrobat.

It was as if time rolled back, anchored in a lower chapter—prior to her, prior to the engagement, prior to the unspoken.

We talked.

Not of us. Not of the pain. Just… things. Things at random.

Movies. That old man who always sat outside the cafe. That silly dog we used to consider getting.

It was insane.

But it mattered.

Because it existed. It was mine.

I needed to ask her. About Carol. About if he still talked to her in the same way that he was talking to me. But I didn't.

I couldn't.

Because if I asked, magic would be over.

And in that moment, lying was easier.

I didn't remember falling asleep. All I knew was that at some point between his words and the heat of him beside me, I slept.

The ache in my chest dissolved. My breathing relaxed.

My last thought as the black consumed me was a falsehood I continually told myself:

Maybe he loves me.

More than a little Girl.

…

I awoke hours later.

The air was misty with morning light, gray and motionless. My phone rang loudly on the bedside table.

And that's when it registered—

Enzo's arms were around me.

Tight. Guardedly.

His chest was against my back, breathing in deep, even gasps.

His hand was beneath my head, fingers curled gently in my hair. His leg was twisted around mine, his whole body wrapped around me like a damn shield.

As if I were his.

For one stupid, borrowed moment, I let myself believe it.

But I knew better.

He wasn't mine.

He never had been.

He'd wrapped his arms around her like that too. Carol.

Kissed her with the same tenderness. Whispered secrets in the dark to her. Vowed to her the futures I once hoped.

He loved her.

Maybe.

And I… I was merely the barrier he never asked for.

Tears pulled again. Unwanted. Uninvited. But unrelenting.

Still, I clung to him. I buried my head against his chest and let him's heat suffuse the world for one last moment longer.

As the second ring of my phone shook me back to reality, I snarled and shifted.

Pain shot up my ankle like fire.

"Shit," I breathed, clenching my lip.

Enzo's arm flexed like a cramp. He didn't wake up. He just… held on.

It was meant to be sweet.

It was smothering.

He was too much—all heat and muscle and weight.

"You're… kinda squishing me here."

Nothing.

"You're. kinda crushing me here."

Still nothing.

I shifted again, attempted to squirm out from under him, but he was a heavy. Greek tragedy unfolded.

"Enzo," I attempted once more, more loudly.

He moaned but didn't open his eyes.

God. Was he dead?

No, absolutely not. He was breathing. Heavy breathing.

I stared at his face.

Perfect. Tranquil. Deadly.

His mouth opened a fraction of an inch. His lashes fluttered like he was dreaming.

Dreaming of her, no doubt.

Shit! Why am I even thinking about her so much?

Something within me snapped.

He still didn't move.

So I leaned in close, planted my lips on his shoulder—

And I bit him.

Hard.

He jerked up with a curse.

"Jesus, Evelyn!" he hissed, his arm clenched around his shoulder. "Is this how you wake up people now? You goin' feral on me?"

I grinned. "You were choking me, Warlord. I couldn't breathe."

He blinked, still sleep-drugged. Then his eyes dropped to where our bodies were curled together in sheets.

And all the humor dropped from his face.

He stared at me.

Not through me.

At me.

Like I was something fragile.

His jaw tightened.

"Sorry," he breathed. "Didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," I said quickly. "You were–actually warm."

I smiled trying to break the tension.

His eyes dropped to my lips. Hung there.

I swallowed hard.

"Can you… move?"

He rose too fast, nearly.

Like holding me an extra second would shatter something.

He rubbed his face with both hands.

"Why is my head pounding?" he groaned, now pacing. "I swear I only had one."

"Perhaps two."

He paused. Turned. His gaze darted to mine once again—dark and inscrutable.

His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the smooth curve of his chest. A catch of ink protruded from beneath the edge of his collarbone.

My breath caught.

I did not wish to look.

Failed.

I couldn't help but think what it would be like to feel him again. All that weight on me with nothing between us. No questions. No guilt.

Just us.

Just this.

But that was absurd.

Because after that instant. he'd be back with her.

With Carol.

And I'd be back to pretending I was okay.

"Evelyn," he spoke softly. "Last night…"

I looked up. My stomach twisted.

" Yeah?"

He hesitated.

Then shook his head.

"Nothing. Forget it."

But I didn't want to forget. I wanted to know.

I wanted answers.

But not like this.

Not when he appeared as if he didn't want to.

""Breakfast?" I said instead, standing up slowly.

He nodded.

" Yeah. I'll fix you something."

I nodded also.

And just like that, the moment was lost.

Replaced by silence.

Unspoken truths.

And the pain of wanting someone I could never have.