Chapter 45: FORTY FIVE

EVE

“If you sit there any longer, you’re going to blend right into those cushions.”

I don’t answer. Taylor’s trying to lighten the mood, tossing out a couple of jokes, but I’m not in the mood to play along. I’m too angry—so angry I can barely think straight.

It’s been two weeks since I walked away. Two weeks since I saw Ryder and Annabeth leaning close, whispering like they had secrets only for each other.

Friends? Yeah, right. Total crap.

I know what I saw—their faces said it all. Warmth, comfort, and a kind of familiarity you can’t fake. And with what Walton told me at the hospital, I’d be lying to myself to believe anything else.

Taylor peeks out through the small gap in the curtains. “Should I call the cops again? Maybe it’ll scare them off.”

I shrug. “What’s the point?” The paparazzi are lined up right there on the sidewalk. It’s public property—they can stand there all they want as long as they’re not blocking cars. How they even found my address? No idea.

Lucky me.

“Maybe you should call Ryder,” Taylor says. “He’d come get you and—”

“No.”

“Eve…”

“I’m not talking to him. Maybe not ever.”

“But he needs to know about the baby.”

The only people who know I’m pregnant are my doctor and Taylor. She promised to keep it to herself, but she’s been hinting more and more that I should tell him.

“If he’s the father—”

“You know he is.”

“Then he has a right to know. I get why you’re upset—honestly, I would be too—but keeping his own child from him isn’t fair.”

I sink deeper into the couch, letting out a long breath. She’s right, and I know she’s right. But with everything going on right now, would telling him just make it worse?

Those stupid pictures are still everywhere. TV can blur out the worst parts, but the internet? Different story. Online, there’s no filter—just me and Ryder, completely exposed for everyone to see. It’s sickening, scrolling through the things people say about him.

And the comments about me? A hundred times uglier. There’s nothing trolls love more than tearing a woman apart from behind a screen.

> Anonymous: LOL, total graverobber.

CaliGirl123: Ugly slut—probably after his Tarantula money.

ArmChairExpert: Damn, this guy’s hung.

Anonymous: She’s got perfect tits—gonna use that later.

I chuck my phone to the far end of the couch and bury my face in a pillow, letting out a muffled scream. People can be truly awful. Instead of doing the decent thing and deleting those pictures, they’ve been passing them around like a party favor. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—it’s always easier to stand by and watch a disaster than actually try to stop it.

Nothing like a little public humiliation to feed everyone’s appetite for schadenfreude.

Taylor sits beside me and takes my hands. “Eve, I get that you’re furious with him right now, but this is serious.”

“I know. I just…”

“Just what?”

“I’m scared.” My voice cracks, even though I’m past the point of tears. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. And he’s kept so much from me. He used to hurt people.”

“Used to,” Taylor says pointedly. “That’s past tense.”

“And then there’s Annabeth.”

She gives me a look. “She kissed his forehead, Eve. You might be reading too much into it.”

I grit my teeth. “And what about the crap he said about my dad?”

“Maybe he’s not wrong.”

I stare at her, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“Relax, I’m not trying to fight with you,” she says evenly. “I just want you to step back and think about it for a second. I’m not saying Ryder was right to say it the way he did, but… he might have a point.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter, pulling my hands away. “Why are you taking his side?”

“Because you’re not seeing this clearly!” she says, grabbing my hands again. “You love your dad, and that’s fine—but maybe that love makes it hard for you to see his flaws. People get defensive when it’s about someone close to them.”

My instinct is to snap back—how could she possibly understand? But then, a quiet part of me admits she might be right. I do love my dad.

And loving someone doesn’t automatically mean they’re a good person.

I fold my arms. “What self-help pamphlet did you pull that from?”

Taylor smirks. “Actually, my whale told me. He’s in therapy.”

“That’s not a red flag?”

“Honestly, it’s more of one if he wasn’t. I like my men emotionally stable and working through their stuff, thank you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Please tell me he’s not giving you free therapy after… your therapy.”

She grins. “He does. He’s insightful. I finally figured out why I have such a big praise kink.”

I groan. “Too much information.”

She wiggles her brows. “Don’t even get me started on what it’s like dating an older guy.”

I bump her shoulder with mine. “Shut up.”

I rub my stomach without thinking. I’ve gained a few pounds lately—could be the pregnancy, could be the stress from having photographers camping outside. Either way, at this rate, I’m going to need new clothes.

Taylor’s right, though—Ryder should know. I planned to tell him eventually. I just didn’t plan on walking in on him with my mother, looking way too comfortable. Okay, maybe I overreacted… a little.

But now? With all this chaos—the photos, learning he used to work for Walton as muscle, the fight about Dad—telling him about the baby would just pour gasoline on the fire. We have enough problems already.

Taylor’s phone rings, and she grimaces at the screen.

“Is that Ryder?” I ask, my face lighting up