Page 8 of Close to the Edge

This right here is the most beautiful woman that ever walked the earth, and I’m a man who gets pointed at by gaping little kids. I scratch the back of my neck, my cheeks hot with self-consciousness, but I still can’t bring myself to break eye contact with her.

Because Tess is sweet and pretty and her t-shirt’s all damp from swimming in the lake this morning. She already apologized for that, mumbling that she didn’t realize they’d have company—as if I don’t love seeing her all natural and relaxed. As if the little escaped wisps of hair around her hairline don’t make me want to beat my chest and howl.

And now we’re sitting across from each other on this deck, gazing at each other like we’re the only two people in the universe as Rowan and Evie keep the conversation going. Can’t make sense of this, but maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want the fantasy to stretch on a little longer.

Then Rowan claps my shoulder on his way back into the cabin for more ice tea, and I’m jolted back to reality. My gut plummets, and my skin flashes cold.

That man is my best friend. He’s been through a lot, and he’s expecting a new baby next month. The stakes for Rowan have never been higher, and here I am, sniffing around his little sister? Threatening the stability he’s fought so hard for?

My wooden chair creaks as I lean back, sickened.

Doesn’t matter if Tess is fascinated by me too. We can’t ever act on it. It’s wrong of me to even consider it.

“Still hungry?” Evie asks, flipping her red hair over one shoulder before reaching for our bowls. “There’s plenty more in the pan.”

“I’ll get it,” Tess offers, shooting to her feet. Suddenly, she’s looking anywhere but at me. Maybe she had the same realization—that this is doomed before it’s even begun. “Sit down, Evie. Put your feet up. You shouldn’t be waiting on us right now.”

Rowan’s heavily pregnant wife rolls her eyes, but settles back down on the bench. Tess squeezes past, taking my bowl on the way to the door. For a split second as I hand it over, our fingertips brush, and I swear I feel that tiny ounce of contact burn all the way down to my soul.

Tess scurries into the cabin like her hair is on fire.

Evie beams at me. “You two make a cute couple,” she says, laughing when I hush her with a frantic wave. Rowan ducks back out of the cabin, a fresh jug of ice tea in his hand.

“What’s the joke?” he asks, refilling his wife’s glass first. Ice cubes clink together, and I stare at the jug with pure longing, imagining shoving my face in there and drowning myself to escape this conversation.

“Nothing,” Evie says sweetly. “Just saying it’s Ash’s turn to settle down soon.”

Rowan grunts, refusing to pile on, and Christ, I could hug him for that. Knew we were buddies for a reason.

“We’re hiking up to the wishing pool with Ash this evening,” Evie says when Tess comes back out, a tray of steaming bowls in her hands. She presses her lips together, handing out the second helpings as Evie goes on. “You’ll come won’t you, Tess? It’s supposed to be a beautiful night, and I need someone to keep poor Ash entertained while I walk slower than a tortoise.”

I shovel a forkful of home fries into my mouth, staring at the deck as I chew. Don’t pressure her. Don’t stare.

“Sure,” Tess says at last, settling back down on the bench. “I’ll come.”

My foolish heart does a cartwheel in my chest.

This is a terrible idea.

* * *

Rowan and I clear up the breakfast things, me scrubbing plates in the soapy sink while he dries with a blue and white striped dish towel. The ladies have left the deck to wander through the trees, pointing up at the birds flitting above, and I’ve never been so relieved and so pained to have some distance from a person.

Seriously. I first saw this girl less than twenty four hours ago, and already I’m craving her presence. What the hell is happening to me?

“Tess doesn’t trust me yet,” Rowan says out of nowhere, hanging a blue enamel mug back on its hook on the wall. The water sloshes around my wrists, soap bubbles clinging to my arm hairs. “She still thinks I’m going to snap and go back to that cave.”

For a moment, I weigh my words. Then think: to hell with it. I’m not built for pussyfooting around. “And… are you?”

Rowan grunts, unoffended, and plucks a plate from the drying rack. “No. Definitely not. Ever since I met Evie… well, I have something bigger to live for now. I know it probably sounds crazy from the outside, but I’ve never felt more level-headed. More stable.”

For some reason, that statement makes my chest ache. Not only because I’m lonely and envious as hell of my buddy’s great love, but because I can’t help thinking of Tess, left behind in Starlight Ridge to wait and hope and pray that one day her big brother would come home.

I get that it’s a different kind of connection. That Rowan worried about his sister like crazy, checking on her every few months, wracked with guilt. He tried his utmost for her, and no one could ask any more.

But still, it’s Tess I’m hurting for.

“Cut your sister some slack.” I fish under the suds for a handful of dropped spoons. “She waited for you for a long time, and she was helpless to save you all the while. No wonder she’s paranoid now.”

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