Page 2 of Close to the Edge

“Doing well. Evie’s due next month, then I’m gonna be an aunt.”

Jana whistles, racking up dirty glasses in the dishwasher behind me. “Life moves fast. Big things are happening, huh?”

They sure are. Maybe that’s why I’m wound tighter than a ratchet strap, waiting in pure dread for my big brother to snap.

“He’ll be fine,” Jana says, like she’s reading my mind, and her dark eyes are so kind I can hardly stand it. When she looks down at the dishwasher, I can finally breathe again. “Rowan’s a tough cookie, and he loves Evie so much. He’d never dip out on his wife and child. You know that really.”

But he left me. The thought snakes through me, sour and sad, and I cover it up by taking another order.

I know it’s not the same thing. Know that we owe very different things to grown siblings than we do to a spouse and child, and that Rowan would never have chosen to hurt me if he was fully well. I know that the heaviness pressing on my chest is super unreasonable, and that this isn’t even my panic to have. Not anymore.

Because I waited here for years for my big brother, and now others have a better claim on him. He’s been my top priority for so long, and now I’m third on his list.

That’s fine—that’s right. It’s how it should be.

But it sure does feel lonely sometimes.

“How’s the apartment hunt going?” I ask, desperate for a change of subject. My stomach’s churning, and the sweat on my upper lip isn’t wholly from the heat.

“Oh man, don’t get me started.” Jana bumps the dishwasher closed with her rounded hip, throwing up both hands. “Every long term rental in this town is a complete dive. It’s all fancy vacation lets. I’m this close to pitching a damn tent out by the keg shed.”

Jana got notice last week that her landlord is doing her place up to rent as an AirBnB to the tourists, and she needs to be out by the end of the month. She’s lived there for six freaking years, never once falling behind on rent, and though she’s hiding it behind a lot of frustrated humor, I can tell she’s hurting too.

That place is her home. Or it was, anyway.

“Let’s burn it down.” My palm smacks against the sticky bar top, and Jana’s surprised hoot of laughter brings the first genuine smile to my face all evening. “If you can’t have it, no one can. That’s what friends are for, right? Bitching and arson.”

“Bitching and arson,” Jana agrees, fishing our water bottles from the shelf below and waiting for me to crack the lid of mine before tapping them together. “And talking sense whenever we crush on the wrong man.”

“Amen,” I say, though secretly I can’t imagine it.

No, when I picture the men around Starlight Ridge, I’m pretty sure I’m crush-proof.

Two

Ash

The coach drops us all off on the outskirts of town, and I shoulder my pack before starting the long, slow trudge through Starlight Ridge. It’s a hot, hazy evening, the sky pink and the birds loud, and I’m already sweating from the stuffy coach ride.

It’s a good thing Rowan’s seen me covered in dirt, sweat and blood more times than I can count, because I’m a mess right now. Tired, rumpled, and in sore need of a shower.

The streets are busy in this small town, bustling with tourists and locals alike. Keep having to turn my shoulders sideways to squeeze past groups of people who’ve stopped to chat, and it’s nice seeing folks enjoy themselves on a rosy Friday night, don’t get me wrong, but crowds also set my teeth on edge these days.

I’ve been here once before, back when Rowan and I just finished our basic training, but it feels like millennia ago. Like I was a whole different man back then.

The shops and cafes and painted buildings that I recognize, like the butcher and the florist—it doesn’t feel like I saw them once before. More like I watched them in a movie or something. There’s a line drawn across my life, one that divides the years into Before Active Service and After Active Service, and all the Before stuff feels kinda surreal.

Anyways.

“‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Just squeezing past.”

My words fall on deaf ears, but people can’t ignore me too long. Not when I stand head and shoulders above most everyone else, and I’m trudging my way up the main street at a slow but unstoppable pace, like a ferry churning through the ocean. These chit-chatters blocking the sidewalk can either dodge out of the way or get all jumbled up in my slipstream, because my throat’s dry and my skin’s hot and there’s a cold shower and colder beer waiting for me at Rowan’s cabin.

Can’t believe he’s resurfaced after all this time. My best buddy; the man I trusted with my life and who trusted me with his. Losing Rowan to the demons in his head was one of the worst things that ever happened to me, and that’s including all the flashbacks with blood and guts. Is that selfish?

“Mom, can we—woah.” A boy stops tugging on his mom’s sleeve to gape up at me as I pass, his eyes going wide. The back of my neck prickles uncomfortably, the same as it always does when folks stare, but I pretend I haven’t seen.

I’m big. I get it. Tall enough that I order my clothes from specialist stores; broad enough that I always have to book two coach seats side by side, because there’s no way on god’s green earth that I can fold my whole frame into just one.

---