𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬

FORTY-TWO| eden bexley isn't okay!

THE Bexley house is the last place Eden wanted to go.

After the Pogues finally dispersed away from the tree and back to the Chateau, they all parted ways. The utter silence the friend group sat in almost reminds Eden of when they were told John B. and Sarah had died—no one dared speak on what they'd just witnessed. Instead they sat in silence reminiscing on what could be done.

Kiara muttered something about going to The Wreck before leaving. Pope stated that a hearing would be held for John B. as soon as possible because of the case's importance before running off towards the HMS Pogue. JJ didn't even bother announce where he was off too before grabbing a joint and running out the door.

She would have tagged along with JJ if she didn't see the tears prickling in his eyes as he slammed the door. Everyone needed their own time to process what they'd witnessed—processed that they'd just seen their friend carelessly attacked, seen him unconsciously handcuffed and thrown into at cop cruiser—and Eden would respect that.

Even if it meant she had to go home.

Her father, Eden wasn't worried about. Tom would be upset his daughter ran off with her friends to Charleston and stole his wallet, but he'd get over it—just as he did every other time she ran off with the Pogues for days at a time, only returning home to let her parents know she hadn't died, or to grab a spare outfit.

It was Isla who had her dreading her eventual trip back home.

Not only was she not in the mood to hear the lecture she was bound to receive for running off like that—she'd run off to Charleston, not to the Chateau—but Eden knew everything. Suddenly, a woman she would rather ignore became a woman she wanted nothing to do with. Her mother was a part of the reason her best friend was currently in a jail cell, the reason Ward Cameron was able to get away with both Big John and Peterkin, the reason Rafe was still on a rampage rather than behind bars.

She may not have committed the murders herself, but to Eden, she was just as guilty for keeping the secret. Especially when John B. was Eden's best friend—she didn't care that Isla hated the Routledge, but the fact that she was willing to see her daughter go through pain made it worse.

Eden was already in a shitty mood. Her best friend whom she'd just gotten back had been ripped away from her, future undetermined. She still hadn't been able to do anything about her graze, meaning it was still opened underneath the bandage, waiting to be infected. She has pent up anger over the cops and the Cameron's and her mother.

Coming home was not the best idea with the Bexley's current state but she had nowhere else to be.

Besides, she already felt numb. No comment her mother threw at her could make her feel any fucking lower.

Eden's hand hovers over the door knob before she twists it open with a small click.

"About time, don't you think?"

The Bexley isn't even inside her own house and the lecture has started. Here we fucking go.

"I don't chase after you to Charleston, the least you could do is return home at a decent time." Isla Bexley chastises, sitting upon the kitchen island. She has a glass of wine in her hand and a tight lipped expression. "But, no. Honestly, I'm just hoping you have your father's wallet on you still, which he—" Her eyes catch hold of the blood stained bandage wrapped around her daughter's arm and her gaze narrows, "What happened to your arm, Eden?"

Eden's already fed up with her mother's bitching. How could she bitch about Eden being home a day or two late when John B. had just been put in jail—Isla had to know. The least she could do was try to understand that maybe, her daughter wasn't okay. That maybe she'd been home late because she had much more to worry about than getting home at a decent time.