Page 121 of Over the Edge

It takes everything in me not to tell her to take the leap. I think it’s the right decision from what I know, but there’s so much I haven’t been in her life for, how could I make that choice?

I pull in a sharp breath. “I can’t make that decision for you. I won’t.”

“I just need an answer, you know.” Her voice cracks over the words. “Flip a coin. Shout what pops into your head first. Anything.”

“I wish I could give it to you.” It would be so easy, but I can’t. I just can’t and I need her to know why, but that requires me to break out truths I hate voicing. But maybe it’s time.

I reach out and grab one of her hands and my thumb immediately starts to trace lines across her knuckles.

It takes another moment for my thoughts to collect. “I’m going to tell you this because I need you to understand why I can’t tell you what you should choose.”

“Okay,” she says.

“You know why I got a vasectomy?”

“I’d just assumed you were being cautious.”

“When I was eighteen, Lana came to Vegas. She ended up running into Wes and I before the show and she just went off on me. Some of what she said I doubt she meant, but there are things that got to me. Things she’d said before, how I was responsible for depriving her of the life she always wanted to live. That she was better off without me.”If she never had me.“I got one of my migraines after and never made it on stage. I made the appointment the next day. I never wanted my actions to cause someone to resent me the way my mother did; I neverwanted to risk the chance that I would bring a child into this world that I would resent either. I lived it. No one else needs to. I want to be with you, but whatever choice you make can’t be because you want to stay with me.”

I’ve lived so much of my life trying to make up for choices I had no part in. I want to support her, I want to be there for her, but I can’t make this choice for her. I can’t tip the balance of her life pushing her toward something because of her desperation to keep things stable between us.

I can’t make Evelyn love me. I don’t want to make her love me. I want her to choose to, the same way I’ve chosen her.

“It wouldn’t be like that,” she insists.

“Are you sure? I am one of the only people who know your secrets and it’s not because you told me. I stumbled on them. Yes, you’ve let me in, but I have to question if you would have if I didn’t know the rest. Did you choose me because I was the only option?” I don’t like admitting these thoughts, but I need her to understand. I need her to see that we are my favorite coincidence, but that doesn’t change everything else. “You never had a chance to hide from me.”

“You are the only option, but not for any of those reasons,” she insists. “God, Garrett. When I’m around you I’m never scared that you’ll look away. I know that if I’m too much for others you won’t feel that way. But also because silence doesn’t feel like silence with you. I’d do anything with you. I do want the answer about how to keep you. But if that means I have to find it myself, I’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will.” I need to believe in her. It’s hard to relinquish this, but for us to work, I’ll trust her.

“I will. I’ll figure it out,” she echoes. “Give me until the end of the festival. Let me think about it and we can enjoy this time.”

44

Evelyn

All I have to say after listening to the demos (on repeat) is that you’re back. No, this is better. Not pushing anything but this would be one hell of a way to roll Lyla’s brand out to the public.

Garrett and I did it. After yesterday, we only have one last song to write. This is what I came here to do. But my stomach sinks as I read the final lines of the message.

No luck with the contract extension. They’re not budging on it. I’m sorry, E. I do need an answer soon or there might not be a contract to negotiate.

-V

I have two days before I promised Garrett I’d have an answer. Vincent can wait that long, too.

“I’m going to get caffeine!” I call out as I swing my legs off the bed. Garrett’s reply is muffled by the sound of running water from the shower. He’s been so understanding, but right now I need a minute alone.

I don’t bother changing out of the shirt I slept in. I throw on a coat and sweatpants then head outside to be greeted by a rush of cold air. Once I leave the neighborhood, there’s this prickling awareness that crawls up my neck. Do I usually make this much eye contact with people? I check to make sure my clothes aren’t on inside out after a woman gives me a once over as I pass the gazebo.

Okay, weird.

When I get to Love is Brewing a couple walks out of the shop and the moment they see me, their casual conversation sputters out.

I give them a wave as a knee-jerk response, which only makes it worse. They give me tight smiles then rush away.

Right before I push through the door, my phone rings in my pocket. I pull my coat tighter around me then take a seat at one of the empty tables in front of the shop.

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