Guilt was a complicated thing. All those weeks ago when Dad first called me, I felt guilty. The guilt had been weighing profoundly on my heart for the past three years. The guilt sloshed around inside me like gasoline, needing only a spark to set my insides alight. Every single time I closed my eyes, I could see the heartbreak incised into his features as I told him I wanted nothing to do with soccer. Growing up, soccer was always part of my life. With Dad being a former player and now coach, the sport was the first thing my siblings and I were ever really passionate about.

Sometimes I despised myself.

I know, what a climactic statement. But it was true. All Dad wanted me to do was play soccer for him and I threw everything back in his face before escaping to university, rarely ever visiting. My siblings kept in touch over the years, reminding me of how I wounded our dad. But I couldn't go back because I knew that I was only ever a burden. My fists clenched as I thought of the money Dad spent whilst raising me. I turned to cigarettes because it paralysed the pain, got rid of my thoughts.

Just over a month ago, Dad called me. Hearing his voice made all the guilt come back at full force. So when he offered for me to help coach the all-girls team that Charlie was captaining - I couldn't find it in me to break his heart again. I knew Caleb didn't forgive me for the first time, so how could I do it again?

But then again, Dad made my decision for me, not allowing me to even accept or refuse the offer. I'd have stayed anyway, though, because Eden was there. I brought her to California, and I needed to stick by her side.

The smell of antiseptic filled my nose, and I shook my head, effectively getting out of my thoughts. Hospital rooms brought back grievous memories from my childhood, of being circumscribed to a bed and not being permitted to leave the hospital for months on end. My fingers itched for a cigarette, knowing that it would take my thoughts away completely, but I suppressed it, just as I'd been doing for these past few weeks.

If I thought about it, I wasn't technically suppressing the urge. I merely substituted one addiction with another, which was why when I felt the urge again, I turned to my right, locating the hazel-eyed girl who stood next to me with teary eyes. I gripped her chin before inclining forward to press my lips against hers. She sighed into the kiss and I felt my body calm down.

The guilt burned inside my chest when I looked at Eden. I hated myself because I hurt her, used Ruben against her. It was obvious she was in pain, unable to accept that he had gone so she clung to his memory, called him every day even though she knew he would never answer. Eden was hurting, and I made things worse by being an asshole.

When I pulled back, she blinked, causing the tears to make its way down her roseate cheeks. A sniffle left her, and I shook my head with an amused smile on my face. I sat on a hospital bed with a thick bandage encased around my left foot, but I felt like she was the patient given the extensive assortment of emotions she went through since we got here.

My foot wasn't even broken, just swelling. Luckily the car went over my foot in one move or else it would've snapped a few bones. The foot was one of the most resilient parts of the body, thankfully. Eden informed me of this before the doctor even could. All I needed was some ice, and the doctor went to get me some painkillers.

I drew Eden between my spread legs and encircled my arms around her. "Baby," I hummed into her hair and a strangulated sound fell from her lips, which caused me to chuckle. "Stop crying."

She sloped back, gazing up at me through long, moist lashes. I blasphemed quietly as I peered down into her eyes. "How can I stop crying, Christian? I ran over your foot with a car. I'm a horrible person." A succession of Russian sentences followed her outcry, and I blinked in bewilderment.

"It was an accident," I assured her, snorting when she grumbled something else in Russian, most presumably a curse word concluding by the blush that soon painted her cheeks. "Or at least I hope it was an accident." I was jesting, but Eden clearly didn't catch the drift because she started panicking.

"Christian," she proclaimed firmly, clutching my hand in hers. "I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, that is. I can't believe that I did that. I-"

I cut her off, cupping her face in both my hands. "Hey, calm down." I really hoped that my words were comforting because I didn't want her to have a panic attack. "If you think about it, I kinda deserved it."

She slapped my arm before apologising profusely and I chuckled at her. "Why would you say that? Nobody deserves to have their foot run over by a car - least of all by their girlfriend."

Kissing her scrunched nose, I said, "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Her brows raised in astonishment yet delight at the same time. "You might be a smarty-pants in everything, but you'll never beat me in my love for Literature."

"I'm impressed," she beamed, eyes momentarily clenching shut, and I couldn't resist kissing her again. "But I can still try to surpass you, though. The Mourning Bride, a play by William Congreve who was an English author in the eighteenth century-"

"You're wrong, baby. The late seventeenth and early eighteenth century," I corrected her with a jubilant grin. "The proverb is adapted from lines that appear in Act three, Scene two. The phrase is said to imply that no one is as angry as a woman who has been romantically refused or betrayed."

Her brows furrowed. "Okay, but-"

"And I've scorned you, Eden," my words were rustled as I moved closer to her. I didn't deserve her affection, yet I clung to it with everything that I had. "I've scorned you by not telling you about my history with Ashley. What we had was nothing, it was insignificant compared to what I feel for you. I didn't see the importance of bringing her up because I no longer see any other woman."

Eden climbed onto the bed to sit next to me, minding my bandaged foot. "There's no reason for me to be angry. Or even jealous, for that matter. I have three older male cousins. Growing up with, Alex, Matt and Max, it showed me how the brain of a man works - particularly when they're going through a phase of wanting to sleep with anything that moved. I can't judge you for being a man, Christian. Surely Ashley isn't the only woman you found attractive at some point or slept with, and that's fine. Besides, we weren't even together then-"

"But we're together now," I stressed, enveloping my arms around her. She lowered her head onto my shoulder and I burrowed my nose into her long hair. "I should've just been honest and told you about it. I don't want any secrets between us. Which is why I have to explain to you what happened today."

Eden pressed a peck to my shoulder. "I know you weren't cheating. And neither was Liam."

I nodded. "Before I explain that, I have to start from the beginning." She idled inaudibly as I attempted to get my thoughts together. I'd never shared my feelings with anyone before, especially regarding the mess that was my life. "It's not exactly a pretty story."

"If you could live through it, I can have the strength to listen," she murmured and my heart clenched.

"My lungs were very weak," I started off. "And before you interject, it's not because of the smoking. I was born with it." She nodded, and I knew she had inquiries regarding why I would smoke if I already had weak lungs - but I'd get there. "My mom's pregnancy didn't go well. She carried four kids, but only three of us made it into the world. She died during childbirth."

Eden nestled closer as the sounds of scurrying doctors filled the hallways. "I'm sorry."

I squeezed her. "When I was born, I couldn't breathe on my own and the doctors nearly didn't realise. I would've died that same day that I was born. Two months later, I developed bronchitis. It was difficult for my dad because he had three newborns to raise and now he had to keep me separate from Charlie and Caleb."

"Dad ended up hiring a nurse to look after me because whenever he took me to the hospital, Charlie and Caleb would be restless. It was as if they knew I wasn't there with them - it's what Dad always said." A lump formed in my throat. "It pains me to think of how much money my dad had to spend on my medical bills. The nurse lived with us for two years because I kept getting sick again."

She kissed my cheek. "That's a sacrifice many parents have to make, Christian. My Babushka left Russia for London with little money to her name, all because she wanted to give my papa and uncle a better life. You shouldn't feel guilty."

"If you saw the hospital bills, you'd be saying differently," I derided. "The guilt doesn't stop there, though. I deprived my siblings from a dad. When I was six, bronchitis came back, which made my dad fuss over me again. He ended up neglecting his other kids at times." Eden frowned. "A few weeks later, bronchitis turned into pneumonia. I had it for three months." I peeped down at her. "That look that you're giving me. I don't like it."

Her nose scrunched as she sniffled. "I don't like it either."

I grimaced, not wanting her to pity me. "Then stop making it." She took in a deep breath and then composed herself, laying her head back on my shoulder. "After pneumonia went away, my dad became very protective. He made sure I constantly washed my hands, ate healthily and did regular exercises. This led me to play soccer. Whereas Caleb had a passion - I had a way to prevent recurring pneumonia."

"Eventually, I learned to love the sport, but I hated that I'd never be as good as Caleb because he was as healthy as a horse. He was always better than me, and everybody saw him as the perfect son. It ruined my love for soccer, and I just had to pretend to like it. I could never play my favourite sport without being compared to him."

Eden must've detected something buried in my voice because she spoke up. "Every few weeks my papa would take my sisters and me to the park. We'd have a picnic, eat food my Babushka made, and speak only in Russian. Sometimes it annoyed me because we live in London, not Russia. My mum said that my papa just didn't want us to lose our roots. So I pretended to be excited about these outings because it made him happy. It's okay to pretend sometimes."

I felt the frost around me being broken down by the pure ardour in her eyes. "But I've been pretending for too long. Not only have I hurt my dad, but my siblings too. Growing up, they barely had a dad-" It was that guilt inside of me that erupted like a forest fire, incinerating everything in its path and leaving behind only exhaustion.

"Christian-"

"When I was thirteen, pneumonia came back, but worse because it damaged my lung tissue," I told her and she went silent. "I was finally happy, but I noticed that whenever things were looking up, life shits on me. Breathing was difficult, but I kept it hidden because Charlie's dance recital was coming up and she had a solo. She was so excited to show Dad. While getting snacks before the show, my chest pulled tight, and I started foaming at the mouth and nose. Dad rushed me to the hospital, leaving Caleb with a friend and missing Charlie's solo."

Eden wrapped her short arms around me, bringing my head closer so that she could press a kiss to my hair. "It's not your fault."

"But it is, though. It's always my fault." The words weren't even mine, but a mantra that a despicable woman taught me. "I spent the next four months in the hospital using a ventilator to breathe while my lungs healed. My dad noticed that I became withdrawn, so he sent me to a therapist - which ended up being the biggest mistake."

"Why?"

"She got it embedded in my head that my family's lack of happiness was my fault." Eden gulped at my disclosure. "She told me it was best if I just stayed out of the way and everyone would be happier. So that's what I did. I stopped speaking and just kept to myself." I paid close attention to my girlfriend, agonising about how she was going to respond to what I was about to tell her. "My therapist was Barbara Danvers - Ashley's mother."

Eden's lips separated in surprise, and she stared in taciturnity. No words eluded her, and I fretted if I should fill the muteness. "How old were you when you first went to her? And is that how you met Ashley?" No matter how much she tried to conceal it, I could hear the bitterness trickling from her words.

"I was fourteen, but I only had a few sessions with her. And no, I only met Ashley when I graduated high school," I informed her, hoping that I didn't sound like a douche. "I knew immediately who she was, and I slept with her a few times to get back at her mother for turning me into a shell of a person." It wasn't my best moment, and I was heavily ashamed. "But Ashley kept coming back, even when I rejected her."

"Charlie explained that Ashley's mum called in to complain about favouritism," she started slowly. "Is it because Barbara hates you or because Ashley hates me?"

I shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. I couldn't give a fuck about either of them. Which is why Liam and I went to speak to Barabara today-"

"That woman at the motel was Ashley's mum?" Eden emitted, hazel eyes comically wide. "Charlie called her a granny. What if she complains again?"

"She won't," I declared, watching Eden pout at my presumptuous tone. "Today was the first time I've spoken to her since I was fourteen. I told her that if she ever put her nose into my life again, I'd expose her. I'd sue her and she could lose her practice. Personally, I wanted to because God knows how many other kids she broke down while their parents knew nothing and she continued to accept payment. But we made an agreement."

"Then why was the message on Liam's phone? Charlie thought he was cheating."

"Barbara couldn't know that she was meeting with me." She nodded, eyes roaming to my swathed foot. "Things make sense now?" I hoped she didn't see me as a burden, or looked at me differently. That was something I wouldn't be able to manage.

Her eyes were gleaming and once again, I got lost in the leafy hue bathing in swirls of earth. It was as if paradise was ensnared in her eyes and I wouldn't be astonished if it was. "And smoking?"

"Helps numb my thoughts and all of those memories. But don't worry, I've got a new addiction now." The sentence hung in the air and she flushed red. There was shuffling as the doctor made his way back inside, packing my painkillers into a tiny bag.

"This explains so much," she babbled, ignoring the doctor who worked on payment. I raised a curious brow. "Now I know why you're withdrawn. When I first met you, I wondered why you had the emotional range of a brick." I snorted.

Leaning down to press another kiss to her lips, I murmured, "well, this brick owes you a long-overdue apology." She tried to interrupt, but I shushed her. "I should never have used Ruben against you. There was obviously a reason you kept him a secret, and I should've been patient until you were comfortable enough to tell me."

Eden sighed. "You had a right to be wary, Christian. I mean, if I thought my girlfriend was hung up on some other guy - I'd be upset too. There was no need for us to make a mountain out of a molehill. I don't want there to be any secrets between us, so I'll tell you everything. I promise-"

"You don't need to tell me anything if you're not comfortable, baby. I don't want to force you to do anything you're not ready to."

She placed a hand on my arm. "No, I think it's time that I finally speak about what happened. I've kept it bottled for too long and it's unhealthy." As I sat, watching her send me that shy smile, I realised it wasn't guilt that was a complex thing.

It was feelings.

The most complex to me was lust and love. People got confused with them all the time because essentially, they were the same. The one was the pleasurable tingle down your spine when you saw someone naked or when you engaged in sexual activities. The other was that warm feeling spreading through your chest when holding hands with your significant other.

The one was perspiring nights tangled in bed with a faceless and nameless person who you'd soon forget when the sun rose. The other was when a person made you happy the way no other person knew how to or could.

The one, in the past, could easily prompt me to fall into bed with a woman who meant nothing to me.

The other - I felt only for Eden.