Page 9 of Over the Edge

The houses are all up on slight inclines from the road. Alina has warned me to be wary of rainy days since the natural drainage works as well as the experimenting with natural deodorant in the middle of summer.

There’s a pleasant stretch in my calves as I climb the opposite hill to Alina’s. A faded blue Ford truck rests at the end of the driveway, parked with the front facing the road. Denim dressed legs poke out from under the body of the truck ending in a pair of scuffed leather work boots.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me, I’m renting the house across the street. I came to drop off a package that was supposed to be delivered here. Alina said it would be okay if I came by.”

The gruff voice that rumbles from under the truck is muted. “Give me a minute.”

As minutes pass, I shift the box from one side to the other as I wait with no sign he’ll be finishing any time soon. Just as I start to consider saying I’ll come back later, a red convertible glides up the drive.

The woman behind the wheel is wearing a floral scarf to secure the gray hair flowing down her back. A bright pop of maroon is painted onto a mouth lined with wrinkles. She’s petite with a proud jut to her chin that tells me it would be a mistake to callher frail. Hers isn’t a forced type of classic look that people try on, she wears it with enviable grace.

I give her my full attention and wave. “Hello! Good to finally meet you. I got to the house and it’s just perfect. Thank you again for working with me on the whole piano situation.”

“If you play for me, that’s enough,” she says, her voice laced with an Eastern European accent. “We always need more musicians. Art makes life tolerable.”

“Well, I hope I live up to expectations,” I say, caught in the familiar need to impress even strangers.

Alina looks over my shoulder and I turn to look back at the man standing behind me.

The white cloth of his shirt covers his face as he uses the fabric to wipe sweat from his brow. He tugs the shirt up further only to expose more of the toned topography of his body. It’s like Avery bought a damn Etsy spell to conjure up the perfect local love interest to taunt me.

And maybe it’s for the best, because damn. I’m practically drooling over the guy, and I haven’t even seen his face. His sweep of blond hair remains perfectly styled, even though he was just under a truck. A breath catches in my lungs as my gaze snags on a familiar pair of browline glasses dangling from the grease-stained forefinger of one hand while he uses the other to wipe his face with the white fabric of his shirt.

Plenty of people have bent glasses with brown detailing. There’s no reason my heart has started tumbling in my chest. It’s not—

“Garrett, come get my bags. We’re going inside,” Alina calls.

5

Garrett

Iglare at the traitorous box on Alina’s mahogany coffee table. I know for a fact there wasn’t a mix up between 2107 and 2108 Austen Dr. because I brought this exact box with the dented corner inside yesterday.

It’s not like I should be surprised Alina is scheming again. I could live without it, though.

“Can I help you?” I ask as I direct my attention to where Evelyn is staring at me with those damn sage green eyes of hers. Evelyn is the type of person who takes up space. It’s not just her body but also her voice and this presence that all but forces you to look at her. Of course, there’s the fact that I do like looking at her… Who wouldn’t?

She’s all soft features and long, tan legs. Green eyes that shine so bright it’s impossible to look away. Dark waves that beg you to run your fingers through them. It doesn’t matter if she’s my old bandmate’s little sister, it’s not like I’ll do anything about this damn persistent attraction I have for her. I only see her three orfour times a year for a handful of minutes each, so why shouldn't I drink her in when I have a chance?

“Did you know that you have an evil twin with the same name as you who lives in the city? The resemblance is eerie,” Evelyn says as she tilts her head to inspect me, causing her mess of hair to drape to one side.

We’re sitting on opposite sides of Alina’s cluttered coffee table. Alina herself is humming in the kitchen preparing tea. It’s a trap to get Evelyn and I alone in the same way her leaving a box on the doorstep of the rental to get Evelyn to come over was. If that woman didn’t practically raise me, I’d leave.

“Be serious,” I say.

“I am. I’m warning you that you might have a doppelganger out there. That could be terrible luck.” She maintains her wide-eyed expression of awe as she continues. “If anything, I’m saving you from someone who says they’ll help you move and then not follow through.”

“I helped,” I remind her.

“You hired movers.”

“I thought we got this out of our systems two weeks ago.” I grit my teeth, guilt surging in my gut.

“I didn’t want to assume you remembered everything—hospital trip and all,” she says. “If you want a recap, I got you coffee and you hired movers. But I assume you’re okay, given your current circumstances.”

I didn’t know that. Shit. But the small detail of coffee shouldn’t change anything. The fact she did that catches me off guard. I rarely expect much from people, so when they do show up for me, I don’t know how to react to it. I was an ass at the hospital, but I shouldn’t have been.

With her here now, I’m feeling the same way as when I bolted at the thought of being alone with her during her move. She’s not strictly off limits. But there’s a reason I’m known for only beinggood for a handful of nights before moving on to someone new. If I want to keep Evelyn in my life, then nothing can come from what I feel for her.

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