Page 85 of Run To You
“That’s fair,” I snort.
“I think we should have a party for old time’s sake. A way to send off UK to…the UK, and a celebration for you bossing the hell out of life. It’d be great to see everyone.”
“Eden leaves in two days, Bryce.”
“Sweet, we’ll do it tomorrow night then. My place as usual. Mom won’t mind. She’ll probably enjoy the noise actually.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Damn right. Get on whatever text chain you have and make sure everyone knows.”
He leaves me with an enthusiastic hug and a mumble about needing to go to the liquor store.
When I get back to my parents’ Eden is already there, chatting away to my dad. Dumping the food bags on the side, I gravitate to her and wrap my arms around her shoulders.
“Hey, babe,” she says, kissing me soundly. Dad smiles and excuses himself to the grill.
I take advantage of Eden sitting down to climb onto her lap. “You’ll never guess who I just ran into.”
She squints up at me, all teeth and challenge. “Soccer Mom?”
“Bryce! He’s visiting his mom and wants to throw you a going-away party tomorrow.”
Eden cocks an eyebrow. “Tomorrow? As in, less than twenty-four hours to plan and twenty-four hours before I have to sit on a plane for a million hours?”
“He was very insistent.” I grin, because I know she’s already running through her catalogue of excuses to get out of it. Eden may have changed some since high school, but she’s still not a major party hound. I was surprised to find out she drinks beer when we reconnected. In high school, she rarely drank alcohol at all.
She lets her head flop back dramatically, groaning. “I have to pack…and water my plastic plant.”
Laughing, I card my hand through her hair. “I’ll help with the packing. You can trust me with your outfits, I swear.”
This gets her. She brings my hand to her lips, kisses a finger. “If you pick anything ugly, I’ll confiscate your favorite Eden-smelling hoodie.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I keep a straight face. “You haven’t got the balls to mess with my favorite hoodie, Sawyer.”
Eden grins and buries her face in my shoulder. “You don’t know me,” she gripes, making me laugh.
She’s still holding my hand when Mom comes into the room, carrying salad in one of her special glass bowls that is apparently not dishwasher-safe, despite the fact that I’ve accidentally washed it in the machine several times. Mom would lose her mind if she found out.
I clear my throat and scoot off Eden’s lap, smoothing down my skirt. Eden gives my ass a sly pinch before leaning back and folding her arms behind her head like a champion.
“Party at Bryce’s tomorrow,” she informs Mom. “There may be drinking. Sloane’s responsible for my safe return.”
I’m still limiting myself to one glass of wine, if that. I don’t want my meds to get fucked up just for a temporary buzz.
Mom’s eyes grow a shade warier. “Just keep it within reason, okay? You have a flight,” she says to Eden.
Eden nods and smiles. “Absolutely.”
After dinner, we head back to Eden’s…or should I say, our place, where I take over her packing. I spend the evening choosing outfits for her trip, culling the truly ratty t-shirts. I know she has a love for band tees, but when they’re more hole than garment, it’s time to purge. She moans every time I hold up a t-shirt that needs to go, but she doesn’t stop me from putting them in a garbage bag.
We pass the hours listening to music and talking about the places we’ll visit together when I travel over for her gallery opening.
The next day I work a soccer training session at Holcroft, happy that the weekend is upon us, even iftomorrow I’ll have to watch Eden fly away. I come home to find Eden in an oversized t-shirt and nothing else, eating cold leftovers while alternating happy and sad songs on Spotify.
“You okay?” I ask. She just shrugs, and I don’t push. I sit with her, knee to knee, sharing the fork, until she sets the food aside and leans into me.
“I know I have to do this,” she says, her voice almost childish, “but I sort of hate it at the same time.”
