Page 113 of Over the Edge

The words are barely out of his mouth before I’m dashing back to the kitchen and apologizing as I put down the bin of silverware. It’s not real until I hear her say it.

Until then, she’s still mine.

41

Evelyn

“Ineed more time,” I say. The remains of a crumbling log crunch under my sneaker as I walk through it and further up the trail. The ground is littered with fallen leaves, softening the sound of my footsteps. Overhead the clouds have completely claimed the sky and rain has started to fall and darken the earth.

“I—” Vincent sighs and a lump forms in my throat.

“Please.”

“Evelyn, I want to give it to you, but you know I’m not the one making the calls. Reverb has been breathing down my neck as is, waiting for the album and for you to agree to take Lyla public.” He sounds exhausted. He’s done so much for me already, still I’m desperate for this.

“I just need a few months. That’s it. I need to be able to get some things figured out first.” The words come out in a flurry and heat builds behind my eyes. I’m alone on the trail, so at least there’s no one to see me cry over my own stupid decisions.

All I am is pathetic, begging for a chance to do damage control.

“I’ll see what I can do. No promises,” Vincent says, and I know he’ll ask even if we both know the answer.

We’ve reached the point of no return and it’s all my fault.

The first year of being Lyla West was a dream. I was on top of the world, feeling I tricked an industry well known for exploitation. I had my friends, and I had music; neither had to impact the other. God, I was so stupid. So stupid and naïve. I didn’t trick anyone, except myself into believing that it would work. And ever since I’ve felt like I’ve been trying to win a race, but I’m the only participant. So, even if I win, I’m also destined to lose.

I had so many chances back then to say something. But now, even if my career choice doesn’t change things between me and the people I care about the most, I can’t change that I’ve spent years hiding things from them. What’s worse is I don’t know if I can let music go. Then there’s this part of me that’s desperate for the damage to be worth it, for it all to work out because if it doesn’t, that’s further proof of how stupid I was in the first place.

I just need to—

My phone chimes.

Quinn

Kind of fucked up

Thought you told Garrett already

“Shit.”My toe catches on a rock sending me sprawling. Rough earth digs into my knees, my skin stinging. My phone flies from my hand, tumbling down the trail and thudding against a protruding boulder. A laugh rips from my throat, ugly and feral. Hot tears leak from my eyes, mixing with the cold rain that has started to pick up in intensity.

Of course. If I’m not careful I’ll prove my mom right and get lost out here too. Now, wouldn’t that be the perfect way to end the day? I don’t bother getting up. I just keep letting out my emotions until my throat is scratched raw and my jacket is fully dampened with rain.

The thudding of rapidly approaching footsteps breaks the moment and I go silent as my heart races. This is a popular trail, but with the gloomy weather I haven’t seen anyone else out here. I’m alone out here and whoever is coming my way is moving fast. I scramble on my hands and knees to retrieve my phone. Shit.

“If you are a serial killer, please give me a head start! I just had a shitty phone call, so if you could give me a fighting chance that would be great,” I say, still a bit slap-happy from being battered by the current state of my life.

A shadowy form turns the corner, and my damn body stays in place.

Move Evelyn. Move.

“Evelyn, why the fuck would you say that if you really thought I was a serial killer? Do you have a fucking death wish?” Garrett says. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath. Damp strands of hair are plastered to his forehead. And speckles of rain have collected on the lenses of his glasses.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, then my attention lands on his clothing. “Are you wearing an apron?”

“I came from Butter Half. I ran into—”

“Quinn and Oliver, I heard.”Shit. Shit. Shit.

He closes the distance between us, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. There’s a frantic, almost feverish, look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

---