Eden opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t have to worry, but her throat closed up. It felt like she’d swallowed a golf ball. Tears bypassed her brain, welling in her eyes like traitorous rain. “Something’s wrong,” she said without meaning to.

Willow’s hand found hers in the dark. “We’re alone, there’s no one around, and I’m pretty sure you’re drunk.”

“I am.”

“So, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

“You’re not hurt from what we did, are you?”

She laughed, spraying stupid tears across the leather. He was so nice. He was nicer about fucking her in the ass than her family had been about anything. And then the truth came burning up, like vomit after a long night of drinking.

“No one gives a shit,” she said. “No one cares. I’m the only one who cares, and everyone hates me for it.”

Willow’s hand tightened on hers. “What do you care about, Eden?”

Something in the way he said her name steadied her. She gasped, swallowing snot, and for the first time in years she got the word out. “David.”

“What about David, baby?”

Eden’s heart pounded. She pictured it erupting in spurts of blood. She wasn’t supposed to talk about David, but Willow must have suspected, or he wouldn’t have kept her away from him on the dance floor.

“It’s so fucked up,” she whispered. “Insanely fucked up.”

“I’m here. You’re safe. Has he been hitting on you? Freaking you out?”

He’d never look at her the same way once she said it, but she still needed to say it. She’d waited too long. The truth was primed. Spring-loaded. And it was coming out. “David and I dated.”

A short, shocked silence. “After he met your sister?”

Nausea rose in her stomach. He thought they’d had an affair. “No! God, no! I’d never do something like that!”

“Okay. What happened?”

The story was wool tangled in her chest, wet and disgusting, knotted into the fabric of everything. She’d sat at the back of youth orchestra, staring at the hottest guy in the room. David in a shirt with rolled-up sleeves, playing John Coltrane on his saxophone. After months of watching, she’d decided to ask him out. She’d been so nervous she couldn’t eat for a day beforehand, and when the moment to speak to him finally came, she’d balled her hands into sweaty fists.

“I’m Eden,” she said. “Do you want to get a coffee with me?”

David was funny. Nice. She drank three cappuccinos and eventually the café closed around them. David paid, then offered her a sly smile. “Want to go to the pub around the corner?”