The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2)

by Jamie McGuire

  My life is weird.

  After the nap on the plane, I ended up staring at the ceiling longer than I’d hoped.

  My cell phone chirped. First, it was Trex checking that I’d made it okay, and then Zeke called. I let it ring, let the voicemail pick up, but then he called again.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “I went down to the bar.”

  “McCormack’s?”

  “Not at first. The guy’s talked me into it. You’ve ruined me.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “There was a whole gaggle of women there for some makeup convention or training or something.”

  “At McCormack’s. Were they lost?”

  “Fish said one of them was a local and knew Jerry I guess.”

  “Fish told you that,” I said, unconvinced.

  “I told you, you’ve ruined me. A few months ago, I would’ve been excited about two dozen beautiful women walking in. All I wanted was to see you.”

  “Not my fault.”

  “It’s completely your fault.”

  Zeke was talking slow, trying hard not to slur his words.

  “You didn’t drive home, did you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good,” I said.

  “See?” he said, sleepy. “You do care.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  “I wish you were here, Naomi. I wish we could… I think about that night lying next to you in your bed all the time. I know … I know this is hard for you, but it’s worth it to me. I wanna be that for you.”

  “Be what?”

  “Worth it.”

  I sat up, rubbing the back of my neck. I wasn’t drunk like he was and didn’t know how to respond. “You’re a good guy, Zeke.”

  He was quiet for a few seconds. “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “In my experience, being told by the woman you’re falling for that you’re a good guy isn’t a good thing.”

  I smiled. “You’re falling for me?”

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  “I should probably hit the sack,” I said. “I have to be somewhere early.”

  “What is this mystery trip? Work related?”

  “No,” I said.

  “You couldn’t tell me anyway, could you? Since you’re like CIA or something.”

  “No, it’s… I’m visiting Matt.”

  “Matt … your husband Matt?”

  “I’m going to Virginia. He’s buried at Arlington Cemetery.”

  “Whoa. Is this something you do a lot?”

  “This is the first time since the funeral.”

  He paused. “Help me out here. I don’t know what to say.”

  “I still love Matt.”

  Several seconds passed. “I know.”

  “He’s dead, Zeke. He can’t hurt me, he can’t piss me off, he’s practically reached sainthood. No one will ever be able to top that.”

  “I know that too.”

  “And you’re just okay with forever being second place to a dead guy?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know what we’re doing. I know what I hope we’re doing. But, Naomi, being with you never feels like second place.”

  I closed my eyes. “I know this isn’t fair to spring on you when you’re drunk, but I just needed that all on the table. I need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “This will be a little tricky. I’m not itching to get hurt either, you know. We both have old stuff we’ll need to work through. But this is worth it. It’s worth it, I’m sure.”

  “You’re sure,” I repeated, unconvinced.

  “Like, sure sure,” he said, sounding sleepy.

  I smiled. “Okay, then. Good night, Zeke.”

  “Good night, beautiful.”

  For the first time in a long time, I didn’t dream. Matt didn’t come to visit, I wasn’t standing alone in a desert or jungle, on a mission, or conducting a training. I woke up without being covered in sweat, without wet cheeks and red eyes, or sad because I was stateside.

  I used the hotel toothbrush and toothpaste kit and grabbed my pack, wanting to be at Arlington cemetery at 0800 because it would take me half an hour to reach Matt’s tombstone.

  The Uber driver was kind enough to see where I was going and ignored me instead of asking questions. I slept hard, but not long enough, and my body felt ten years older as I trudged down the path and up the hill, past tens of thousands of white tombstones that looked exactly like my husband’s. Still, I knew where he was.

  I sat down my pack and sat next to the place he was buried.

  MATTHEW

  NOLAN

  ABRAMS

  MEDAL OF HONOR

  LCPL

  USMC

  ARIZONA

  JUL 19 1989

  SEP 21 2014

  His tombstone had no sign to signify religion above his name, one of the few. I touched the letters and numbers, remembering the day of his funeral.

  I cleared my throat, feeling it close around the words I wanted to say. “Matt?” was all I could manage.

  I lay on the ground and closed my eyes, remembering when I used to lay on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. All I could hear now was the sound of the wind and a few muffled voices in the distance. Matt’s remains were down there, just a few feet beneath me, still as the earth between us.

  It took me a long time to open my mouth to speak again, but I needed to wait, to feel that he was listening.

  “I know you want me to be happy,” I said. My left palm lay flat on the soft grass in front of me, the wedding band on my middle finger coming into focus. “I met someone. It’s new. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but … he’s a good man. He doesn’t rush me. He knows about you. He’s a hotshot from Colorado. You two would’ve gotten along.” My smile turned into frown. “It’s weird to say that. That’s not what I meant. You wouldn’t have gotten along with someone interested in your wife.”

  The wind made the grass tremble. Growing up in the desert, the lush green blades had always fascinated me. The desert was lifeless, and here I lay, soft green for miles, flowers of every color, and surrounded by death. I wanted to reach down and touch Matt’s hand, hear his voice, his heartbeat. Every nerve and muscle had cried for him since the day he left me forever, and being this close to his remains made my insides tense and burn, feeling like I was being pulled forward and crushed at the same time.

  I’d carried my pain long enough. Matt wasn’t here to share it. It was time to let him go.

  “I love you, Matthew. You were and will always be everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re the love of my life. Thank you for loving me.” I closed my fist, gripping the grass. It was only my second time at Arlington, and being there, telling Matt I was moving on felt like a second goodbye.

  A droplet hit my nose, and my eyes fluttered opened. The sky had darkened, the clouds rolled in, and a few intermittent drops on my face turned into a steady downpour of chilly rain. I sat up, looked at my watch, and looked back at Matt’s tombstone. I held my palm against the letters that spelled his name, his birth, his death, and everything else that was important in his life summed up in a few lines.

  “Excuse me,” a woman said. “I’m Annie.” She was holding an umbrella over her shoulder-length curly brown hair, holding out a small, closed one. “I had an extra.”

  “Thank you,” I said, looking around. The others still visiting the cemetery were ducking and running for cover.

  She frowned when I didn’t take it. “You’ll be soaked inside of five minutes.” She took back the umbrella, put it under her arm, then held out her hand again.

  “Naomi Abrams.” I shook her hand once, then wrapped my hair into a bun, knotting it in place. “I’ve walked through rain before.” I stood, dusted myself off, and smiled. “It feels kind of nice to be in the rain after that.”

  Annie made a strange face then put down her own umbrella
. She looked up with a smile. “You’re right.” With each drop, her curls were weighed down, but she still smiled. She nodded to Matt’s tombstone. “Brother? Husband?”

  “Matt is my husband.”

  Annie nodded. “I’m out visiting mine too.”

  “How long?” I asked.

  “Seven years, three months, six days. No judgement here. I’ve had my fair share of trying to talk to my guy through the soil. Gives a whole new meaning to dirty talk.”

  I looked down.

  “Sorry. Widow humor. It’s gotten me through, but I forget it doesn’t help everyone. I just live down the road now. I quit falling asleep out here years ago, but it’s still hard to see the wives, husbands, kids out here with blankets and water bottles, or like you, ill-prepared, unable to leave until closing time sometimes even in the heat … even in the rain.”

  I looked at my watch again. “I’m not staying here that long. I have a plane to catch.”

  “Oh? Where you coming from?”

  “Colorado.” I shifted my weight. “Annie?”

  She lifted her eyebrows.

  “It doesn’t really get easier, does it?”

  She sighed then shook her head. “No. You just get stronger. The moments you feel broken get further and further between, but they still come. The worst part is the best part: life goes on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I remarried. I met him right over there. His wife Kate is buried four rows over. We’re both from Alabama, believe it or not. Gene’s a wonderful man with three daughters. Kids I didn’t get to have with my Marshall. It’s a good life, and yet it was a trade for all of us. Sorting that out in our heads is something we’ve been able to get through together, but no. It’s not easy at all.”

  I hesitated, but I decided to make my admission, knowing Annie would understand. “I’ve met someone,” I blurted out.

  She smiled. “Good. Because the dead don’t expect loyalty. They don’t care if we live like we died with them. They’re gone. And whether we like it or not, a week goes by, then a month, a year … ten years.”

  “How do you…?”

  “You love them both. Don’t compare them, at least not out loud.”

  “But Matt was the love of my life.”

  “Of your old life. I’ll love Marshall until my last day, but I think everyone here visiting someone can agree that our lives are different now.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s okay to start new. Not that we should forget. Not that it’s a do-over. It’s just a different road than the one we set out on. Now, go warm up before you catch cold.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said, wiping the rain from my face.

  Annie walked away, holding both umbrellas under one arm. I stared at the ground, watching the rain nudging the blades of grass on its way to the soil.

  I kneeled, soaking my knees in the mud, and hugged the etched concrete bearing his name. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for giving me the time with you that you did.”

  chapter twenty-one

  The New Real

  Naomi

  I

  rushed through the Denver airport and sped south, irritated at the butterflies in my stomach that only worsened when I parked the FJ next to Zeke’s truck.

  Calm down, Naomi, Jesus.

  My phone buzzed as soon as I picked it up, but it wasn’t Zeke.

  “Trex, what’s up?

  “You back yet?”

  “I’m just parked at the hotel.”

  “You’re here?” he asked. There was something unsettling in his voice.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Nomes…” he sighed. “The Alpines were on the mountain.”

  My chest began to tighten. Were.

  “Is he alive?” I asked.

  “I don’t know yet. Zeke’s group was separated from the rest. They had to take a detour. No one knows where they are yet.”

  “Are we going?”

  He sighed. “I need to stay here with Darby.”

  “I’m going.”

  “I’ll call out the guys,” he said.

  I tossed my phone and stomped on the gas, pushing the FJ as hard as she would go all the way to the first check point. I was still muddy from my day at Arlington, but I had my badge. The night guard wasn’t familiar with me, but he’d already called in on Martinez, Sloan, Kitsch and Harbinger, so they’d told him to expect me.

  We wasted no time once I caught up with them in the control room. Without Saunders being there to hold us up, Harbinger gave the order then took the Jeep while we drove ATVs, headlamps on, speeding through the wilderness. After an hour, Harbinger went alone and split the rest of us up by twos. After ninety minutes, we all went on our own to cover more ground. Kitsch called in reports to the mountain and Trex, but when we got reports back that the rescue teams had been pulled for the night, Harbinger radioed for us to meet in the black, and we turned off our engines.

  “We’re out of our depth,” Martinez said, fishing in his pack for water. “We haven’t been trained for this. What if the winds change? We have no business being out here blind.”

  “I mean,” Sloan began, “we’re trained to survive.”

  “You’re Navy, Martinez. We’re Marines. We’ve been trained for everything,” I said.

  “Funny,” Martinez said, annoyed.

  “Okay, okay, we’re not getting into a military branch pissing match. Let’s focus,” Harbinger said.

  I continued, “We have headlamps and flashlights. I’m not going in,” I said.

  “You’ll go in if you’re ordered to,” Kitsch said.

  Harbinger sighed. “I’ve seen that look. I might as well not even try.”

  One corner of Sloan’s mouth turned up. “She ain’t leavin’.”

  “Which means we’re not leaving,” Sloan said, throwing his pack to the ground.

  I handed Martinez my canteen. The sky was changing, still dark, but the horizon was lighter than before. “They’re out here. Just like last time, they’re probably trying to get one of their injured out. We’re fucking Marines; we don’t stop when the sun goes down.”

  Martinez’s cheeks flushed. “Think about this, Nomes. You’re really willing to get us all killed to fix something you can’t fix?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I seethed.

  “Lay off her, Martinez!” Kitsch yelled.

  Martinez wasn’t afraid to go where others wouldn’t. He was a Navy Corpsman, trained in medicine and everything that went with it, including processing death. His medical training hadn’t taught him how to understand those of us who couldn’t let go, though. His patience had been wearing thin for a while.

  “She couldn’t save Matt, so she’s going to risk her life to save Zeke—and ours in the process. It doesn’t make sense to let her make this decision, Harbinger! We’re on a mountain, two hours from base. Our radios are patchy. We’re simply not trained in fire behavior. It’s fucking dangerous. Listen to me, all of you. Naomi’s come a long way, but she doesn’t have her head on straight about this.”

  “So my decisions can’t be trusted because I’m a widow. Fuck you, Martinez,” I said.

  “Fuck you, Naomi. You joined up to protect us for Matt, and you’re going to kill us all to save the new man in your life. The general was right to put you on probation.”

  “Lock it up, Martinez!” Kitsch yelled again. “Last warning!”

  “Just because we pretend your family’s alive doesn’t mean we have to let everyone act crazy!” Martinez growled. He immediately regretted it, but Kitsch had already left his ATV. They both fell to the ground, and Kitsch grabbed for his knife.

  “Stop!” I yelled, lunging for Kitsch’s hand. “Wait, wait, wait! Wait!” I screamed.

  In the scuffle, between the cursing, there was a voice.

  “Wait.” I struggled to keep Kitsch from killing Martinez while also trying to listen more closel
y.

  I heard it again, this time able to hone in that it was coming from an area of residual boulders. We were surround by mountains taller than the one we were on, so it was difficult to discern.

  I curved both my hands around their heads and cupped my fingers over their mouths, pulling their necks to almost breaking point. “I said shut the fuck up!”

  In the distance, barely audible, was a chorus of voices.

  “It’s them,” I said, breathing hard.

  “It’s the wind,” Sloan said.

  I shook my head, scrambling to my feet. “It’s Zeke. I know it.”

  I mounted my ATV and put on my helmet, the fire burning in a line almost all around us, no more than a few miles away. The engine growled as I pulled back on the throttle, surging forward, and soon the headlamp highlighted two faces, the men jumping up and down and waving their arms.

  The ATV slid sideways when I finally squeezed the brake, and as soon as I removed my helmet, Zeke yanked me into his arms. I hugged him back, letting him hold me while the other man, Maddox, poked his head into a crevice in the rocks and called for the others.

  Three more climbed out, Jew and two Aussies I hadn’t yet met. They were smiling, seeming unfazed by their impending death.

  “We gotta stop running into each other out here.”

  I pushed Zeke back, then checked him over, touching his arms, chest, and face. “You okay?”

  He smiled. “I’m good.”

  I nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank Christ. I thought you’d learned your lesson last time.”

  “I was out on the fire line. The wind changed. Maddox and the rest of them came to warn me. We got separated from the others.”

  “They’ve been out here all night looking for you.”

  “You win, I guess,” he said, touching my cheek.

  “Wasn’t going to go home without you.”

  Zeke’s smile faded, and he leaned in. Just an inch from my lips, he paused at the sound of Maddox’s order.