He frowns.
“And I promise you on my life,” I whisper through tears, “you’ll never be alone again.”
Chapter 30
His eyes search mine.
“Get your things,” I tell him as I regain some composure.
“Why?”
“You’re coming with me.”
“To where?”
“London.”
“What do you mean?” He frowns.
“I came to take you home.”
“I am home.”
“This is not your fucking home,” I spit. “You belong with me . . . at least until you’re older.”
“Where’s Hazen?”
My nostrils flare, and the lump in my throat hurts as I admit my failure. “We broke up.” I hang my head in shame.
“Oh . . .” He steps forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says softly. He pats my shoulder. “It will work out.”
It just makes me more unstable. How is he comforting me at a time like this?
Because he’s Eddie . . .
“Come on, buddy, let’s get the hell out of here,” I blurt out in a rush.
He stares at me, completely confused.
“I’m asking you to come and live with me. Do you want to do that? I’ll look after you . . . keep you safe.”
He opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it as if stopping himself.
“Say it,” I tell him.
“What would someone like you want me to live with them for?”
His silhouette blurs. “Because . . . I missed you.”
His eyes widen. “You did?”
“Yes, fucker, I do,” I snap. “You better have missed me.”
He bites his bottom lip to hide his smile.
“Come on, get your things.”
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. We’ll work it out.” I throw up my hands in defeat. “Do you want these postcards?” I unpin one.
He stares at me, and I see the fear in his eyes. How many times has he been let down in his life?
“You can come back to Barcelona anytime you want . . . I promise. I’ll bring you myself.”
He stands still and looks around the room. “Could I bring my sleeping bag?”
The lump in my throat nearly closes it over, and I nod.
I have no words.
“Do you want these postcards?” I ask him.
“Yes, please.”
I get to work in unpinning them.
“Can I bring my gas cooker?” he asks timidly.
With my back to him, I screw up my face. The tears won’t stop. “Yep.”
“And my flashlight?”
“Uh-huh . . . bring whatever you want.”
He’s killing me.
I wait as he meticulously packs up his life. Things that I would think are junk he treats like priceless treasures. I wait patiently, and fuck . . .
Plot twist of all plot twists. How is this happening?