I watch as Jake weaves through the crowd, his confident stride and easy smile drawing attention like a magnet. When did he become Eden's most eligible bachelor? Sure, his swimmer's build explains the lingering glances, but I run on black coffee and cynicism these days—I'm immune to that all-American charm.

My gaze drifts back to Farrah and Nate. Her delicate features and glossy lips seem ready for a photoshoot, one arm draped possessively around his neck while the other holds a champagne flute. While Nate looks simultaneously bored and tense as she whispers in his ear. When he catches my eye, I quickly look away, still rattled by our intense encounter this morning.

Jake returns with two drinks. "Vodka, lime, and soda for the lady."

"You're drinking?" I ask, surprised.

"Vodka, lime, and soda—minus the vodka. Got to keep this body in top form.” He winks, nodding toward Ollie, who's working his charm on a pretty brunette. "And I've got to get you and that mess home safely."

Jake can read my distraction. "You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." I force a smile, but my eyes betray me as they notice Nate and Farrah's absence. Anxiety coils in my stomach like a spring. I take a long sip of my drink; it burns a path down my throat.

Do people actually enjoy this?

"Whoa, easy tiger. I already have one Wells sibling I'm babysitting tonight," Jake teases.

"Ollie's the only one who needs babysitting," I retort with a smirk that masks the chaos beneath. Truth is, I'm barely holding it together—the anxiety is suffocating, and seeing Nate makes my skin feel too tight for my body.

"There are a few people I want to say hi to. Want to come?" Jake offers.

"No, you go," I say, the thought of small talk sending fresh waves of unease through me. Stay invisible, I remind myself.

"Are you sure? I could introduce you."

"No, it's fine, really. Go. I'll find you later." Another reassuring smile. I can always find a quiet corner to hide in until he's ready to leave.

"Okay, I'll come find you in a bit. Try to have some fun, yeah?" he says, playfully tapping my nose like when we were kids.

I watch Jake move through the crowd with enviable ease, unaffected by the whispers and glances that follow him. Meanwhile, I'm dodging spilled drinks and overeager partiers, feeling like a fish swimming upstream.

The party pulses with increasing intensity as more bodies pour in, until the mansion seems to breathe with their collective energy. Tables once decorated with family photos now host drinking games and lines of white powder. The music pounds through my bones, making thought itself difficult.

I keep my head down, trying to navigate the chaos, when I collide with what feels like a brick wall.

"Shit, sorry," I mutter.

"Holy shit, is that you, Lenora Wells?" A husky voice cuts through the noise, and I look up into Connor James's face.