Page 64 of On the Edge

“Should I be worried?” I decided to leave the question of where I’d slept last night for the moment. I headed toward my room, both kids right behind me.

“Perhaps.” Rowan sounded near giddy, and I was surprised he’d managed to last this long without showing me. “It’s not a black color scheme.”

“Or motorcycle themed.” Wren cackled, a perfect mad scientist laugh. “Which is probably just as well since you’re unlikely to be sleeping up here much.”

“Nuh.” I made a strangled noise as I turned back toward Wren.

“What?” They held up their hands. “Just an observational fact.”

“But regardless of where you sleep, the room needed the overhaul.” Rowan gestured for me to open the door.

“Wow.” I stepped inside, taking in the transformation. Gone were the avocado walls, replaced with a white with the barest hint of yellow without being ivory or cream. The heavier drapes and blinds had been replaced with airy curtains. My light-sensitive eyes would likely curse the dawn, but the overall effect was sunny and light. My bed had been remade with a light-bluepuffy comforter, and the weird side chair had been replaced by a large wicker rocker. The dark dresser had a fresh coat of white paint as well as new hardware. “What a difference.”

“The color is called Fresh Start.” Rowan pointed at the walls. “It was time.”

“It was,” Eric added from behind the kids. His voice sounded nasal, like perhaps he was coming down with a cold or allergies. “And Rowan ran with a tiny budget and a lot of thrifting.”

“It’s impressive.” I turned back toward Rowan. “You should hire yourself out.”

Rowan snorted before cackling exactly how Wren had. “There are probably better ways to rent myself out in LA.”

“LA?” I grinned even as Eric looked rather grim. Rowan, on the other hand, looked utterly delighted. “You got the part?”

“I got the part.” Rowan gave a little shimmy. “And the streaming service ordered a full season. They’ve got Michelin Moses and Embellish signed on as consultants, so you know the soundtrack will be good.”

“I’m sure.” I didn’t recognize either musician name, but I trusted Rowan to have a finger on the pulse of teen tastes. “When do you leave?”

“Filming starts in June, after graduation. Funny, I’m graduating only to return to high school a week later.”

“No college?” I asked gingerly, having a feeling it was a loaded topic.

“Not yet.” Rowan pursed his mouth. “I deferred a year in case this doesn’t work out. Compromise with Dad.”

“I’m happy for you.” I patted him on the shoulder.

“Thank you.” He beamed, turning my pat into a full-on hug. “And I’m happy for you too. You give me hope. If you can find the older man of your dreams, mine is out there too.”

I gulped, but everyone else laughed. Clearly, my coming out had gone fine without me doing a damn thing.

“Lord, save us from that.” Eric released a low groan. “Maybe there’s a monastery renting rooms in LA?”

“Ooooh, single, older, devout men.” Tone mischievous, Rowan gave a sly grin. “I love it already.”

Jonas came up stairs right then to be greeted by Oz, who had been let back in the house. Approaching the crowd at the door to my room, Jonas pulled up short as his gaze dropped to my chest.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“Apparently, I am.” Grinning, I smiled, but Jonas’s expression was one of wide-eyed horror.

“Must have been a laundry mix-up.” His voice came out way too hearty.

“That gate already dropped.” I gestured at the three others. “I think they figured it out.”

“We can be discreet though.” Eric shot warning glances at both teens. “No gossiping, especially around Sean?—”

“My dad knows,” I interrupted his warning. And surprisingly, that sentence didn’t feel as odd as it had last right. Rather, I had a new sense of calm, aided by Eric and the kids’ non-reactions. “Which means Denver knows. I’m not scheduling a press conference or anything, but you don’t have to keep my secrets.”

“Your dad knows, and Jonas is still alive?” Eric tilted his head, gaze swiveling between Jonas and me.

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