My heart stops and I’m frozen in place. At the end of the table is long raven hair and the most beautiful face in the world. It’s Breanna and I almost drop to my knees when a burn hits my throat and eyes.
“You okay, brother?” Pigpen asks.
“It’s Breanna.” My voice is rougher than it should be.
Pigpen cups the back of my head. “You showed faith in us and we came through. Her parents have laid down some serious rules, but if you follow them, that girl is yours as long as she still wants you.”
I nod and join Pigpen in a seat in the last row and sit back and watch something I wasn’t sure I’d ever see—Breanna on stage, showing the entire world how her mind works.
Breanna
I CAN’T STOP touching Razor.
Not that we can really touch—not in the way he touches me in my dreams, but at least we’re touching and he’s here and he’s looking at me and we’re still together.
On a blanket at a park across the street from my private school, Razor and I hold hands. He’s been catching me up on what’s been happening at school, with Violet, Oz, Chevy and Emily. Nothing he says is too detailed. He speaks in generalities as my older brothers are also sitting on the blanket staring at Razor like they would happily toss him into a meat grinder.
But I don’t care... I’m touching Razor.
My parents are at the picnic table full of fixings from KFC. Chicken, mac ’n cheese, mashed potatoes. Name it from the menu, it’s there. All courtesy of the Reign of Terror. Across from them are Razor’s dad, his girlfriend and Rebecca. Eli and Pigpen are playing kickball with my younger siblings.
Razor squeezes my hand, then clears his throat. “Mr. Miller?”
Talk about epically weird. Razor from the Reign of Terror just properly addressed my father and I try to stymie the silly grin on my face.
The picnic table falls silent and my father answers, “Yes?”
“Can I take Breanna on a walk? I’ve been watching the joggers and there’s a loop that runs along this place.”
I hold my breath with each second of awkwardness that follows. It’s extremely obvious they’d like to scream no, but instead Dad says, “We’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Yes! Razor stands and I waste no time accepting his hand to help me up. I glance back at my parents and I wonder if the smile on my face is insulting. The thought causes some of the joy of this moment to falter, but then Mom offers me a soft encouraging lift of her lips.
“Thank you,” I say, and Mom nods a “You’re welcome.”
We’re quiet as we walk on the path and there are a million thoughts in my mind. All the things I’ve been dying to tell him, all the things I’m dying to know from him, and then this nagging fear that maybe he doesn’t fully feel the same way I do, that maybe this road is going to be too difficult for us to navigate, that... “Forty percent of long-distance relationships break up and seventy percent of long-distance relationships fail when there’s a change in plans.”
Razor’s lips tug up and he rubs his thumb over my hand. “Then we’ll have to make sure we have a plan in place in case plans change.”
I giggle and Razor chuckles.
“I read up on it,” I say. “In case my parents did let me see you again.”
“Are you happy here?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks and I wonder what he wishes my answer would be, but then I chastise myself for thinking such things. Razor craves the truth.
“Yes. It’s, oddly enough, still high school and there are still high school problems, but the classes are phenomenal. It’s like mind crack without killing the brain cells.”
“Good.” By the way his blue eyes soften, he means it. “Good.”
“Did you ever doubt this moment would happen?” I ask. “Being together again?”
“Did you?” He turns the question around to me.
It somehow feels like a betrayal to admit I had no idea if we would stay together.
“I was scared I’d never see you again,” he admits. “That once you got here, you’d change your mind about me.”
“Never. Just never, but, yeah, I was like you. I wasn’t sure if it would happen or if you would have second thoughts.”
A quick squeeze of my fingers. “Never.”
We near the spot where the path is engulfed by the neighboring forest and my heart quickens. No one can see us here. No one will know what is done or how we do it and—
Razor moves, lightning-fast, and my breath rushes out of my body. One arm encircles my waist, the other caresses my face, and in a moment that feels like an eternity, he lowers his head and brushes his lips to mine.
Everything inside me explodes. Our mouths move, tongues dance, hands explore and we soon remember the precious and delicious parts of each other. Heat builds, but it’s the emotion that causes me to go weak.
The way Razor’s palms frame my face, the gentle way his hands run through my hair and the reverent way his fingers skim along my back. It’s as if he’s kissing me like I’m a dream, as if he doesn’t believe I’m real.
A buzz of Razor’s cell and we break away. He’s breathing hard and so am I. A glance at the message. “Pigpen says your brothers think we’re taking too long.”
I laugh because we totally are and there’s no way to hide what we’ve been doing. Razor’s hair is tousled and his lips are swollen. He grins as he slides a finger along my neck, where there are no doubts that my skin has flushed.
“No one said we couldn’t kiss,” I say.
“True. That was not one of the rules.”
His laughter fades as he tucks my hair behind my ear, then pulls me into the shelter of his body. I lay my head on his shoulder and let one of my hands rest on his solid chest.
“I’ve missed you.” Razor nuzzles my hair, then kisses the top of my head.
“I’ve missed you, too.” I hug him tight and breathe in his scent of autumn air and leather. The smell of freedom. “We’re going to make this work, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “That’s a promise.”
RAZOR
THE FIELD FEELS lonely without Breanna, and because of that, I had promised myself I wouldn’t come unless she could join me, but I’m on a mission for someone I loved before Breanna. I have a promise to keep to Olivia.
I take off my leather gloves and stick them in my jacket and my warm breath billows out into the cold air. The trees have lost their leaves, the grass is now brown, but the memories of Breanna’s laughter, the feel of her body pressed against mine make this place as colorful as it was this fall.
My cell vibrates and I pull it out as I pause near the abandoned bridge. It’s Breanna: Am I late? My meeting ran over and then I couldn’t get a signal until I stepped outside.
Even a hundred miles away, at times, it’s like she’s beside me. Me: Just in time.
Breanna: I wish I could have met her.
Having Breanna on the other end of my cell steals away some of the ache. Me too.
Olivia would have loved her. Me: Give me a few and then I’ll video call.
Breanna: Sounds good. I love you.
I walk onto the abandoned railway bridge and peer at the bridge upstream. I haven’t been here since the day Kyle forced Breanna onto the tracks. Haven’t had the guts or the desire to. This field belonged to me and her, and the bridge Kyle dragged Breanna on and then the bridge a little farther down has affected my life in ways I’m not sure anyone can understand.
Bridges are meant to connect. They’re meant to defy drops and distances, but occasionally we lose our way...we fall off, we drive off, we consider jumping.
Mom’s bridge—I lost my way. The bridge I’m standing on—I had spiritually jumped. The bridge where I tackled Kyle—I saved myself.
The colder air carries t
he sound of the tractor trailers crossing over the busy state road a few miles ahead and off in the distance a train whistle blows. Six months ago, I was mourning the loss of Olivia and my mother, I never knew I’d know love and I was estranged from my club and father, if not in body, then in spirit.
Now I’ll be the best man in my father’s upcoming wedding, I’m being mentored for a future board position in the club and the girl I love includes me when she talks about her future.
I open the box in my hands and pull out the bag containing Olivia’s ashes.
Yeah, there are certain lies in life we convince ourselves we have to believe and those are the ones that lead us to self-destruction. But as we grow, as we mature, we learn how to search for the truth. We learn that our lives are not determined by fate, but by our own free will.
Olivia said I’d know what to do with her ashes when I found peace and she was right. I open the bag and let the wind carry her remains off the bridge and into the valley below. “I’ve finally learned how to let go, Olivia. I’ve finally learned how to let you and Mom go.”
When the bag is empty, when the burning in my eyes and in my throat no longer feels like it’s going to consume me, I sit and let my legs hang over the edge. A few swipes of my phone, a beeping, and the most beautiful girl in the world pops onto the screen.
“Did you do it?” she asks, and concern mars her hazel eyes. “Did you release her ashes?”
I nod. “Thanks for being here with me.”
“Anytime. Do you want to talk about her?”
I’ve done that—told Breanna stories about Olivia, but the past isn’t where I desire to be. I belong to the present and even maybe my future. “Are you still interested in those northeastern colleges?”
Breanna gathers her hair away from her face while she nods. “I’ll be home this summer.”
She’s worried about distance, but I’m not. “I talked to the board. We think it’s time the Terror and the security company expand, and those places you mentioned—New York, Massachusetts—sound like areas that need someone like me to plant a new chapter.”
She shrieks with joy. “Please tell me you aren’t kidding.”
“Never.” Breanna may never understand how much I love her. “I would never joke about something like this with you.”
Breanna blinks like she’s on the verge of tears, and hating that I can’t hold her, I press forward with conversation. “Help me narrow down the field of where the Terror are headed. I have a lot of work to do and only a few months to do it.”
She wipes her eyes, sucks in a breath and begins telling me everything she knows about the places where our future together might begin.
* * * * *
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
TO GOD: ECCLESIASTES 4:12 (NIV): Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
For Dave: You are the love of my life and my best friend. Each day with you is a gift.
Thank you to...
Kevan Lyon and Margo Lipschultz. Your continued faith in me means more than you could imagine.
Colette Ballard, Angela Annalaro-Murphy, Kristen Simmons, Kelly Creagh, Bethany Griffin, Kurt Hampe and Bill Wolfe. You are my tribe and I would be lost without you.
Again, to my parents, my sister, my Mount Washington family and the entire McGarry “Madness” clan... I love you, always.
PLAYLIST FOR
WALK THE EDGE
Theme:
“American Kids” by Kenny Chesney
“Small Town Saturday Night” by Hal Ketchum
“Am I Wrong” by Nico & Vinz
“Refugee” by Tom Petty
“It’s Time” by Imagine Dragons
Razor:
“I Hold On” by Dierks Bentley
“Demons” by Imagine Dragons
“Blank Space” by I Prevail
Breanna:
“Everything Has Changed” by Taylor Swift
“What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction
“Reflection” by Christina Aguilera
Songs for Specific Scenes:
Razor and Breanna at the Bridge:
“Rewind” by Rascal Flatts and “Night Train” by Jason Aldean
Razor and his relationship with his father:
“Wrecking Ball” by Miley Cyrus
Razor and his relationship with his mother:
“Ghost” by Ella Henderson
Razor and Breanna see each other at the bar:
“T-R-O-U-B-L-E” by Travis Tritt
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ISBN: 9781760374464
TITLE: WALK THE EDGE
First Australian Publication 2016
Copyright © 2016 Katie McGarry
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher:
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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