I paced the bedroom like a caged animal, waiting for Oliver’s return. Every time I tried to sit and breathe, my nerves hijacked me. The what-ifs circled like vultures.
What if this is a trap?
What if Oliver tells Ezekiel where I am?
What if Oliver actually means what he says and I really can trust him?
I hear the front door open and I freeze.
“Eden?” Oliver’s voice floated up, casual… but what if he wasn’t alone?
I edged toward the window and cracked it open just enough for a quick escape.
“Eden, are you still here?” Now there was a thread of desperation in his voice.
Footsteps approached—only one set. Then, a soft knock at the bedroom door.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“Can I come in?”
“Are you alone?” I was perched on the windowsill now, ready to throw myself out of it at the sligh
