Page 25 of Close to the Edge

“You’re sure?” I press one last time. “Because I’m about to run after Ash.” Evie gives a little whoop, punching the air. “So if you have a problem with this, it’s your last chance to say something.”

Not that I’m sure I’d listen. The last ten minutes—the time when I’d had and lost Ash—were the most miserable of my life. Everything felt sickly and wrong. Now that I’m letting myself hope again, now that I’m imagining a future with him, I’m not sure I can ever go back.

And Rowan’s right. It truly is no one else’s business.

I’ve been putting everyone else first for way too long.

This is my life, and I get to decide what to do with it. And I’ve decided: I want to spend every freaking day and night with my brother’s best friend.

“Go,” Rowan says, and I’m already turning on my heel.

“Run like the wind!” Evie adds. “Go, go, go!”

I take off, leaping over an exposed tree root, and sprint through the trees.

Twelve

Ash

In theory, it should take me less than ten minutes to pack up my makeshift camp. It’s just a backpack and a hammock, after all, with some gear strewn around for ease of use. A flashlight dangles from a tree branch; the book I’ve been reading is wedged beneath my sleeping bag. Guess the grab-and-go style of the military hasn’t left me yet.

Still, it doesn’t matter how long this should take me. In reality, I’m fumbling around like I’ve never used my hands before, chaos swirling in my brain. The birds are too loud and the evening sunshine is too bright and I keep flashing hot and cold under my clothes.

She doesn’t want me.

Or at least, she doesn’t want me to stay.

The one woman I’ve ever craved, the one person I’ve ever felt that kind of connection to, and she’s sending me away. After a lifetime of being the giant, the freak show, this should come as no surprise, yet I’m reeling.

Tess.

Can’t even blame her. She’s trying to protect her brother—my best friend. Doing the noble thing when I’m too selfish, too desperate to keep her in my arms.

This is the dark side of hope. It hurts like a motherfucker when it’s torn away.

“C’mon,” I mutter to myself, shoving my sleeping bag into its stuff sack. Normally, I can do this without thinking, but right now I’m uncoordinated as hell. Numb with pain. The sleeping bag keeps exploding right back out again no matter how many times I push it down, bursting all over the hammock like the ugly mess of my feelings. “Get in there, you piece of shit. Please. I’m begging you.”

A distant shout echoes through the trees. It barely registers.

I swat a bug away from my ear and keep stuffing.

The third time the sleeping bag bursts out, I inhale sharply and step back empty handed. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I should forget everything except the easiest things to grab, leaving the worst reminders of this trip behind. Rowan will find a use for a hammock and sleeping bag—or donate them in town to someone in need.

Yeah. Okay.

This is it, then.

I’m turning for my backpack where it hangs on a stubby branch, heart dragging on the pine needle-coated dirt, when the shout comes again, louder this time. Birds burst from the trees high above, chittering out their alarm calls. I pause, hand outstretched.

“Ash!”

Tess bursts through the trees like a madwoman, red-faced and panting for breath. Even though I fixed her polo shirt collar to lay flat, it’s flipped up again on one side, and her ponytail is bedraggled as hell. She’s glowing with sweat.

And perfect. So fucking beautiful. So sweet and strong and caring, and… what is happening? Why is Tess here?

“I’m going,” I say quickly, holding up both palms. “Don’t worry, angel, I’m going.” I said I would, didn’t I? She doesn’t need to shoo me off this mountain like a stray dog.

But Tess doesn’t break stride, not even for a second. She keeps running directly toward me, arms pumping, hair swishing, before leaping into my arms.

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