The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2)

by Jamie McGuire

  He tried to sit up, but I stopped him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t go anywhere yet. Darby will bring Maddie up to you once the anesthesia moves out of your system and you’re coherent.”

  He set back, blinking and looking around, trying to wake up. “Have you spoken to Zeke?”

  “Yeah. Watts took him home. I’m going back to take care of him once you’re out of recovery. He’s pretty bummed.”

  “That you’re going to take care of him? I doubt that,” he said, sounding a little drunk.

  My body decided to let exhaustion take over. “He got a bad diagnosis. It’s his heart.”

  “What? How is that possible? He’s younger than me.”

  “Hereditary.”

  “Damn,” Trex said, grabbing my shoulder. “He’s going to be all right, though, right?”

  “The doctor won’t release him to go back to work, and it’s doubtful any doctor will. Too much stress on his heart.”

  Trex frowned. “Go. Don’t wait for me.”

  “Okay,” I said, touching his cheek. “Thanks for waking up, mister.”

  “Yep,” he said, groaning when he tried to adjust.

  “Need something for the pain?” I asked. “I can get a nurse.”

  He shook his head. “I’m going to hold Maddie the second they wheel me out of here. I need to be alert.”

  I kissed his cheek. “See you soon. I’ve got a flight to catch.”

  In the cab, on the way to the Dallas airport, I texted Zeke that I’d be home in a few hours. I’d be landing in Denver and connecting to Colorado Springs, then I could go straight home. Watts had taken Zeke to my house, and he was waiting for me there.

  He typed, Ready to see you.

  T-minus five hours. How are you feeling? I tapped out.

  This is the 20th time you’ve asked me.

  So tell me, and I’ll stop asking.

  Still trying to wrap my head around it all. Still tired. Still pissed. We need to talk about a few things. Trying not to stress about it.

  About what?

  It took him a full minute to respond, and then the three dots appeared, alerting me that he was finally typing.

  About you being with a dude with a bad ticker.

  Shut up. Don’t stress. I’ll be home soon.

  Soon felt like an eternity. The cab smelled like old Thai food and armpits. The plane was delayed just long enough that I might have missed my connecting flight, but I ignored my exhaustion and ran to the gate, making it just in time. The plane took longer to taxi to the runway than the flight itself, and when I walked out of baggage claim, Watts was waiting for me with a smile and snow in his hair.

  “You’re really going above and beyond in the friend department,” I said.

  Watts walked next to me to his truck. “Zeke isn’t my friend. He’s my brother. Besides, I’m going for points here. I’m hoping you’ll talk Kansas into coming back. It would be weird if I went to her.”

  I shrugged. “She’s called me a couple of times. She hasn’t asked about you.”

  He frowned. “Really?”

  I smiled. “No.”

  He playfully shoved me, and I tripped him, laughing when he ended up slipping on the snowy sidewalk a few times to regain his balance.

  “Brutal,” he said, finally righting himself. “Have you thought about working for the forestry department? We’ve got a few badass chicks on the ground crew. They’re just waiting for a spot to open.”

  “Do I get to hold a gun?”

  He made a face. “A gun? To fight fires?”

  “Then no.”

  He chuckled. “You probably make more than Zeke and I put together anyway.”

  “I do,” I said, throwing my duffle into the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat.

  I fought the urge to ask Watts to drive faster, and to jump from my seat when he parked in the drive. Zeke was lying in my bed, ice water and a dirty bowl and spoon on the nightstand next to him.

  “Thank God,” he said, letting his head fall back.

  “You look bored,” I said, leaning down to peck his lips.

  “So bored.” He pulled me down again, planting another kiss, this time opening his mouth and grabbing each side of my face.

  “All right. I’ve got some shit to do. Call me if you need me,” Watts said from the doorway.

  I reached up, waving goodbye with Zeke’s mouth still on mine.

  When Zeke finally relaxed back, I had to remind myself he was unconscious the morning before.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “Day late.”

  “No, today is our Christmas.” His smiled faded. “But first, we should talk.”

  I tilted my head and glared at him, annoyed. “Zeke…”

  “No, just let me say it. When I first met you, it was obvious to everyone you needed someone who could keep up. I thought I could—just barely—but things are different now.”

  “Quit it,” I said.

  “Naomi…”

  “Shut up, Zeke. Just shut up. We’re not doing this. You’re not weak. You don’t have a bad heart. It’s controllable, treatable. You’re not even on medication, are you?”

  “Not yet. It’s seems like it’s going to be a lot of wait and see. What if I… I don’t want to make you go through that twice.”

  “So you’re going to leave me before you leave me? That makes sense.”

  He breathed out a laugh and looked down. “It does sound stupid when you put it that way. I just… I love you. It’s real. I know because I want you to be happy with or without me.”

  “I’d rather be happy with you, if it’s all the same to you,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I said, picking up the dirty bowl and spoon. “Need anything from the kitchen?”

  He shook his head.

  “What did the doc say?”

  “No drinking. Low stress. My career is over.”

  I looked down. “I’m sorry Zeke. I don’t know what to say. It has to be devastating.”

  “Yeah,” he said, using his index finger and thumb to wipe his eyes.

  “We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Together.”

  The corners of his mouth turned up. “It’s what’s keeping me going right now.”

  I made a face. “Then why did you offer a sympathy-kick-to-the-curb?” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Boys are dumb.”

  I put his bowl in the sink and washed it, feeling tears sting my eyes. Truthfully, the thought of going through loss again scared the shit out of me. The sight of Zeke wiping his eyes broke my heart. The nauseous-slash-butterflies feeling was familiar, even if I hadn’t felt it in years. My fingers gripped the edge of the sink, and I breathed out a faltering breath.

  “Naomi,” Zeke said from the dining room.

  I wiped my eyes with my wrist, rinsed the bowl and spoon, and set them out to dry. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

  “You feeling sorry for me is exactly what I didn’t want.”

  “I don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I just…” I turned to him, meeting his gaze. “I held Darby’s baby girl today.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Yeah? Is she pretty?”

  I nodded. “Beautiful. They named her Maddie, after Matt. I realized while I was holding her… I mean, I always knew, but… I don’t want children, Zeke. I don’t mind kids, but I don’t want to be anyone’s mother. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah?” he said, confused. “Since this is hereditary, I don’t think kids are a good idea anyway.”

  I rolled my eyes and looked at him. “You didn’t even think about it. You could adopt.”

  “I just want you.”

  “Okay, I just wanted to make sure because I…” I trailed off, afraid. Finally, I decided to just blurt it out.

  “I love you,” I said.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, clearly wondering if he’d heard
me right. “You…?”

  “I’m worried about you, I empathize with you, but if I feel sorry for you at all it’s because you’re in love with me. I needed you to know my feelings on children before I said it.”

  “You love me,” he repeated, still unsure.

  I nodded. “When you didn’t wake up, I wished I’d told you sooner. I don’t want another second to go by without you knowing. I don’t know if I’m good for you, but I’ll keep trying until I am.”

  His bottom lip quivered, and he opened his arms wide, wrapping them around me, and holding me as tight as he could, his cheek against my hair. “Babe,” he said, his voice breaking. “For real?”

  I gripped his shirt with my fists, closing my eyes. “Long haul. Real as it gets.”

  He touched each side of my face, looking down at me, his eyes dancing from one of my irises to the other. “Best Christmas ever.”

  He pecked my lips then hugged me again, this time swaying from side to side. We danced in the kitchen alone, the Christmas lights on the tree blinking; the sun had escaped behind the mountaintops half an hour before. He kept his arm around me while we walked to the corner of the living room, sitting next to the only two presents under the tree. Both were wrapped horribly, Zeke’s with newspaper and mine with uneven wrapping paper, the white underside showing.

  We opened our presents—both under fifty dollars as agreed upon. Zeke got me a diffuser with some essential oils, and I got him a new pair of sports glasses.

  “These are more than fifty bucks,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I threw in next year’s present early.”

  He shook his head and put them on. “How do I look?”

  “Tired, let’s get you in bed.”

  Zeke had been asleep for forty-five minutes. His breath was deep and rhythmic, his hand relaxed against my thigh, the mattress warm beneath him and radiating to my side. I was reading a novel about angels and demons in Rhode Island when someone landed three soft knocks on my front door.

  After the last twenty-four hours and no heads-up, I crept to the hall closet, retrieved Vicky, and pointed her at the ground with one hand, using the other to push aside the front window’s curtain so I could peek at the front porch.

  I sighed, rolled my eyes, clicked Vicky’s safety then opened the door, hissing at Peter.

  “What the hell are you doing here? It’s almost midnight!” I whispered.

  “Can I come in?” Peter asked.

  “No, you can’t come in. Zeke is asleep.”

  He frowned. “Is he living here now?”

  “I’m taking care of him. He was in the ER on Christmas Day and half the night, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Peter blinked. “Oh. Is he … is he okay?”

  “He’s better.”

  “Naomi, we need to talk.”

  “Another time,” I said, beginning to close the door, but Peter grabbed my arm.

  I looked down and then met his nervous gaze. “I’m holding Vicky in my other hand behind the door.”

  “Besides it being illegal to threaten me, does it escape you that I’m your boss?”

  I pulled my arm from his grasp. “Well, in that case, this is sexual harassment instead of just annoying.”

  “Naomi,” he said, passed frustrated. “Paige is going to file for a divorce. It will be a scandal. I might not be re-elected. Don’t you see? We’re finally free. It’s time to get rid of the glorified ditch-digger.”

  “Do you want me to punch you? Did you come here hoping for a broken nose because violence is in your very near future,” I said.

  Peter smiled. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Are you afraid of me?” Zeke said, opening the door wider. “Peter. You keep hanging around here like you’re wanted. You’re like an STD with none of the fun.”

  “This is between Naomi and me,” Peter said.

  “Zeke,” I said, turning toward him, placing my free hand on his middle. “What are you doing? I can handle Peter. You should be in bed.”

  Zeke took a step forward. Peter a step back.

  “Oh, I’m gonna handle Peter,” Zeke said.

  Peter stepped off the porch backward, holding up his hands, palm out. “I don’t want you to end up incarcerated tonight, Zeke, especially if you’re not feeling well.”

  “How can you feel like a man constantly hiding behind your position? I don’t even use my heart condition to be a coward.”

  “It’s just a fact. I’m trying to protect you,” Peter said.

  “Get off her lawn.” Zeke pointed. “Get in your pussy car and go back to whatever sink you formed under, scumfuck.”

  Peter glanced at me.

  “Don’t look at her, you piece of shit, look at me,” Zeke said. “You made your choice years ago. So fuck right off, Senator. No matter how many divorces you get, or how many times you piss off your daddy, I’m still better for her than you.”

  “Peter, just go,” I said, nudging Zeke back.

  Peter complied, pissed off but at least cooperative.

  Zeke let me guide him inside, waited for me to lock the door, turn out the lights, and then walk him to bed.

  He lay down on his back with a sigh.

  I sighed. “I understand, okay? I get why you’re angry, but I had it handled. You can’t be doing that shit anymore.”

  “He won’t be knocking on your door at midnight to reunite again, so I won’t have to.”

  “Zeke, Peter is … persistent. He’s always been part of my life in some way or another. He brought me here. Now that he thinks he’s free or whatever, he’ll have tunnel vision for a while. That’s just who he is, but he’ll get over it. And, even if he doesn’t, I don’t love him anymore. It’s just dumb to stress over Peter Bennett of all people, so please don’t.”

  “Knocking his teeth out is worth a trip to the ER—and jail.”

  “Stop. I want you to take a deep breath. Do it, Zeke. Take a deep breath and blow it out. In through your nose…”

  “Are we meditating?”

  “Shut up and do what I say.”

  He took in a breath, and as he followed my lead, his body relaxed. I snuggled up next to him, hoping he would wake up with a new perspective. Stressing over Peter was pointless. Regardless, Peter and I were long overdue for a conversation, and I lay awake, hoping it wouldn’t mean my entire team would be out of a job.

  chapter thirty

  white glove

  Zeke

  I

  n my dream the night before, I saw the Devil. At least, I thought it was him. He was standing in the doorway, breathing deep, his dark red chest heaving, the breath coming from his pig-like nostrils visible as if it was cold. But it wasn’t. The room was a sauna. Fire was all around me, sweat poured from my skin, dripped from my nose, my hair soaked. When I woke, I was still wet with perspiration, but Naomi was holding me anyway, telling me it was going to be okay before I even told her what had happened.

  Now, sitting in Dr. Levine’s office, I was cold. The white walls, his white lab coat was draining me somehow. Needle pricks, stress tests, X-Rays, telemetry wires stuck to me every few days; I was tired. Knowing I was sick made me feel sick. I remembered feeling dizzy on a twenty-mile hike and ignored it. Now that I knew my heart was fucked up, that dizziness was somehow amplified. I felt like I was dying.

  “It’s his medication,” Naomi said. “He’s gone from none to eight.”

  “It could take a bit to get it right, but he’ll feel much better, I assure you,” Dr. Levine said, writing something down.

  “He’s not better, he’s worse,” Naomi said, leaning forward.

  Dr. Levine nodded, writing more.

  Naomi slapped his desk.

  He looked up, pushing up his designer glasses.

  “You’re not listening to him,” Naomi said, glaring at the doctor. “I realize you’re a god, a cardiologist who lives in a fancy house with an ex-cheerleader wife
and model babies, but your meds aren’t improving your patient’s quality of life. Do your fucking job. Earn your lifestyle.”

  Dr. Levine laced his fingers together, resting his hands on his desk. “This is an emotional time for everyone. I understand you’ve been caring for Zeke.”

  “And doing a damn fine job,” I said, smiling at her.

  She squeezed my hand.

  “You look tired. Are you sleeping?” Dr. Levine asked.

  “Don’t patronize me,” Naomi warned.

  “Babe,” I said, squeezing her hand again. “It’s a good question. Are you sleeping?”

  She turned to me, the dark circles under her eyes more noticeable since the doctor had mentioned it. She was exhausted.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Naomi…”

  “Zeke, I used to sleep with one eye open in the African jungle. I can get up with you a few times a night.”

  “A few times a night? Why? I’m not waking up that much.”

  She shifted in her seat. “You are. You might not remember, you’re pretty out of it. I think your meds are giving you vivid nightmares. Maybe night terrors.”

  The doctor shook his head. “That isn’t a side effect of—”

  “That you know of,” she interrupted.

  “The meds don’t—”

  “That you know of,” she insisted.

  Dr. Levine gave up on Naomi and looked at me. “Mr. Lund, for our appointments to be most productive, I feel next time you should come at a time where you and I can really get together on your health. Together. Without distraction.”

  “I’m an advocate, not a distraction. That you don’t see the difference—”

  “Dr. Levine? Naomi is my girlfriend, she’s been my caregiver, and she clearly cares about me. I know you won’t disrespect her again.”

  The doctor sat back, resigned.

  I stood, and Naomi rose with me. I led her out of the doctor’s office by the hand. She was quiet for the first time in an hour as she drove me home, deep in thought. I turned on my phone, and it began to ding with text notifications from my large family like it had been daily since I broke the news about my condition.

  I answered in chronological order, from who texted me first to the last, but before I could get to the last five or so, Jenn called.