Episode 4

By the time Harper Quinn's birthday dinner arrived, Eden had almost convinced herself she could behave like a normal person around Hutton Lambert.

Almost.

She had managed two days without falling into a pool, touching his face, or writing him anything else he might decide to preserve like evidence. That felt like progress. She had even passed him twice near the training path and said hello in a voice that did not crack.

Hutton had said, "Eden," both times.

Just her name.

Nothing else.

It was becoming a problem.

"You are staring at the door," Sophie said beside her.

"I am appreciating architectural flow."

"The door is glass."

"Very transparent architecture."

Sophie gave her a look over the rim of her water glass. "If he comes, try not to look like you just swallowed your own pulse."

"That has never happened."

"It happened yesterday when he asked if you needed sunscreen."

"He was holding the bottle like a threat."

Sophie smiled into her drink.

The restaurant at Cypress Cove was all low gold light, white tablecloths, and windows overlooking the dark water. Harper had reserved a private section for the summer group, which meant the evening was technically casual and socially terrifying. Casual, because half the girls wore sandals. Terrifying, because the sandals probably cost more than Eden's emergency credit card limit.

Harper sat at the head of the table in a pink dress, glowing with birthday happiness. Summer Vale sat near Eden, quieter than the others but less folded in on herself than she had been at breakfast. Celeste Wynn had arrived late, of course, because some people treated punctuality like a tax bracket beneath them.

Lucas Ward took the chair across from Eden and looked amused before anyone gave him a reason.

"Do not," Eden told him.

"I haven't said anything."

"Your face has."

"My face is naturally informative."

Harper leaned forward. "Hutton said he might come after practice. Simon too. Is that weird? I invited half the football staff because my cousin said it would make the resort look fun on socials."

Eden reached for her water.

Sophie kicked her lightly under the table.

"Not weird," Eden said, and sounded almost convincing.

Celeste's smile drifted toward her. "Why would it be weird?"

"It wouldn't," Eden said.

"Good. Because I heard Hutton doesn't really date."

Lucas looked at his menu. "That's an oddly specific thing to have heard."

"People talk." Celeste's eyes stayed on Eden. "Especially when a girl makes herself memorable."

Eden could have answered. She had three possible replies, all sharp enough to leave marks. But Summer's knee bumped hers under the table, nervous, and Harper looked like she wanted her birthday dinner not to become a blood sport before appetizers.

So Eden smiled.

"Then I guess I have excellent branding."

Lucas coughed into his napkin.

Celeste's eyes narrowed.

Before she could respond, the host appeared with a young man in a navy blazer and open-collar white shirt. He was handsome in the deliberate way of people who had grown up near boats and mirrors. His hair was sun-brown, his watch subtle but expensive, and his smile widened the instant he saw Eden.

Eden's stomach dropped.

"Miles?"

Sophie sat straighter.

Lucas's expression changed by exactly one degree, which for Lucas was practically a public alarm.

"Eden Callahan," Miles Mercer said, as if her name belonged to a story he had been waiting to retell. "I thought that was you."

Harper brightened. "You two know each other?"

"We grew up adjacent," Eden said quickly.

Miles pulled out the empty chair beside her without asking. "Adjacent. That's a cold word for first love."

The table went quiet.

Eden felt every face turn toward her.

"That is not what we were," she said.

Miles sat anyway. "Come on, Eden. Don't erase me in front of your new friends."

The old discomfort rose so fast it nearly stole her voice. Miles Mercer had been part of a summer back home when Eden was sixteen, lonely, and flattered that a boy with a country-club smile had chosen to orbit her. They had gone to three parties, kissed twice, and ended when he decided her life was too practical for the version of himself he wanted reflected back.

A teenage almost-relationship.

Not a claim.

Never a claim.

"I'm not erasing you," Eden said. "I'm correcting you."

Celeste leaned back with visible delight.

Harper looked mortified. "Miles, this is my birthday dinner."

"I know. Happy birthday." He flashed her a smile, then returned his attention to Eden. "My family handles part of the resort's event bookings. I stopped by to make sure everything looked good. Then I saw my ex."

The word hit the table like a dropped glass.

Eden's fingers tightened around her napkin.

"Almost-ex," she said.

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yes. Because that's what it was."

"You always did like technicalities."

"And you always did like audiences."

Miles's smile thinned.

Lucas finally looked up. "Mercer, the event looks fine. You can report back to whoever requires your observations."

"Ward." Miles acknowledged him with a nod that looked friendly and felt like a challenge. "Didn't realize you were on Eden's security detail."

"Only when the conversation needs a locksmith."

Sophie made a small sound beside Eden, half laugh, half warning.

Eden pushed her chair back.

"Excuse me."

She did not run. She refused to give Miles the satisfaction. She walked through the restaurant with her shoulders straight, past the bar, past the host stand, into the quiet hallway that led to the restrooms.

Only when the door closed behind her did she let her face change.

She gripped the edge of the marble sink and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes looked too bright. Not because she still cared about Miles. She didn't. That was the humiliating part. He was not the wound. He was the old bruise someone had pressed in public just to see if she would flinch.

She hated that she had.

"Get it together," she whispered.

The door opened behind her.

Sophie stepped in.

"I can spill red wine on him," she said.

Eden laughed once, shaky. "You don't even drink red wine."

"I'll learn."

"I'm fine."

"You're allowed not to be."

That almost did it. Eden swallowed hard and looked back at the mirror.

"He likes making me sound smaller than I was. Like I should be grateful he noticed me."

Sophie moved beside her. "Were you serious? Almost-ex?"

"Three parties. Two kisses. One extremely condescending breakup speech about different worlds." Eden turned on the faucet just to have something to do. "I was sixteen. He was seventeen and already exhausting."

"Then we go back out and let him be exhausting alone."

Eden nodded.

She dried her hands. Fixed her hair. Put her face back into the shape people expected from a girl who could make jokes and not bleed on the table.

When she and Sophie stepped out of the restroom, the hallway was no longer empty.

Hutton Lambert stood near the opposite wall.

He wore black again, cap low, shoulders tense under a clean T-shirt. Simon was nowhere in sight. Hutton's gaze moved from Sophie's protective stance to Eden's face.

His jaw was tight.

Too tight.

Eden stopped.

Behind her, Sophie went very still.

Hutton looked at Eden as if he had heard just enough to misunderstand all of it.

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