Page 54 of Living on the Edge

“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I never should have let my mate drive my car the night of the accident. But I did. I can kick myself from now until Sunday, but he’s still dead and I still can’t time travel. The difference, of course, is that my current band knew the story from day one. I made it clear that they had to accept me for who I am as well as for who I was.”

“Yeah, that’s where I screwed up, I guess. I didn’t tell them who I was.”

“It won’t happen overnight, but I have faith you’ll work it out. The music is magical—so hang on to that. Sometimes it’s the only thing that gets us through the hard times. And believe me, we all have them.”

Before I can respond, I realize he’s already gone, and I’m left to my own devices.

But now I have a plan, or at least, the beginning of one.

It’s a steppingstone and I have no intention of stopping until I’ve built an entire fucking street.

Chapter16

Ryleigh

The poundingbehind my eyes is brutal and I bury my face in the pillow.

I know the alarm is going to go off soon, but I’m so miserable I don’t want to move. I need a shower and something to work on this headache, but it’s been two days now, and the scratchiness in my throat is only getting worse. I haven’t been sick in ages, but all the zinc and Vitamin C in the world doesn’t appear to be keeping whatever this is at bay.

I roll over and cringe at the pain in my head.

I recognize the signs of a sinus infection but don’t know what to do about it.

We have to be on the road in less than an hour, and I can barely get out of bed. I was miserable yesterday, but I had a decongestant to take the edge off. I don’t have any left so I’m in agony today.

Somehow, I drag myself into the shower and wash off. I don’t bother doing my hair, pulling it back in a ponytail after I brush my teeth. I tug on shorts and a T-shirt, slide my feet into my sandals, and then stuff my toiletries and nightshirt into my suitcase.

It rolls, but even that feels like so much work I have to lean against the wall as I wait for the elevator. I also have my backpack and the little crossbody purse that I use on travel days, and it’s suddenly exhausting to lug it around.

All I want to do is crawl back into bed and sleep.

By the time I get to the lobby I’m sweating and wonder if I have a fever.

“There you are. You’re late!” Our bus driver, Ben, smiles at me and reaches for my suitcase.

“Sorry. Feeling a little under the weather today.”

“Sorry about that.” He looks at me worriedly. “You need me to stop at any point, just let me know.”

“Thanks.” I climb the steps of the bus one at a time and try not to look at anyone.

“You okay, Ryleigh?” Kirsten asks, frowning as I walk past her.

“I think I have a cold,” I say. “I’m just going to sit in the far back away from everyone. In case it’s contagious.”

“Oh, no.” Kirsten doesn’t seem worried about getting sick, and follows me to the back. “What can I get you? I can run inside and grab orange juice, Tylenol…”

“It feels like a sinus thing,” I admit. “And I took my last Sudafed yesterday. Could you ask if anyone has one?”

“Sure thing.” She immediately pulls out her phone and starts tapping away.

I stick my backpack in the overhead cubby, pull out my headphones and phone, and then sink into the chair.

“Looks like Sydney has some,” she says. “And they haven’t left yet. Give me two minutes.” She hurries away, and probably three minutes later she’s back with a couple of pills and a bottle of water.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I whisper, grateful. “Thank her for me.”

“No problem.” She smiles. “Try to rest and maybe we can get something to eat later.”

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