On Edge

by Kim Cong

  Hospital was shit.

  But this is hell.

  So I got Brean, a guy I recruited through my army contacts, to search for you.

  Today he found your details and for three hours, I sat at the cafe down the street from your apartment hoping you’d walk by. Hoping I’d be able to reconnect.

  ’Cause I have nothing to offer you. Not anymore.

  For years I let you down. I thought it was easier to not contact you. Thought I was being this honourable guy by letting you go, letting you move on with your life.

  I was a fucking idiot.

  I should have held on. I should have done everything I could to stay connected.

  Three years ago, when I woke up and realised what an arse I was being and read your letters, I should have been man enough to stick your address on the front.

  Instead, I took the easy road.

  I am weak, Jetta. I am a weak man, because now I want you back. Now that it’s convenient to me. Now that I need someone in my life to help me cope with the reality of being a civilian, the aftermath of the shit I had to do. The fear that claws up the back of my throat every time I see a flash of light from the corner of my eye, or someone moves too fast.

  Now that you don’t need me.

  And that’s really the crux of my problem, isn’t it? You don’t need me anymore. I came home with a fucking shattered knee, busted lung, and nothing to offer you.

  If you needed money, I’d give it. If you needed protection, I have a whole fucking corporation at my fingertips.

  But you don’t. You don’t need me.

  I’m so proud of you, Jetta. You picked yourself up, dusted yourself off and pulled Courtney kicking and screaming out of the shithole your parents left you in.

  And I am so sorry I wasn’t there to help. I was too chicken shit to realise that what you needed was a man to stand by you, not a boy who ran off with visions of heroism in his eyes.

  We could have made it work.

  We could have been something special.

  Instead, I’m the man who sits outside your apartment, sipping coffee and busting myself up over the fact I let you slip through my fingers.

  You’re my sweetest regret, Jetta.

  And if I ever get another chance, I am taking it.

  I won’t let go this time.

  I won’t fuck up.

  I will protect you. I will love you and I will do whatever it takes, however long it takes, to get us back on track.

  But for today, I’m letting you go. Because you asked me to.

  Because I have to be the bigger man and do what needs to be done.

  And what has to be done is I have to let you move on. Like you asked me to.

  I no longer have a hold on you, a right to be in your space. I gave that up the moment I left and didn’t reply.

  So Jetta, this is my goodbye. This stupid letter that I’ll bury in the bottom of the box with the rest. I don’t get to think of you anymore. I don’t get to think about breathing in your scent, feeling your hair in my fingers, finishing what we started all those years ago.

  Fuck, I miss you.

  I love you, Jetta Oliver.

  You’re my one regret.

  Paxton.

  I wiped tears from my face. The pain in my chest radiated out.

  “Jetta?” I looked up at Addie, who was sitting on the floor, the remnants of my letter rampage around her.

  “He loves me.” I stated, feeling it deep in me. “And he’s suffering. He’s so broken.”

  Addie nodded, her own eyes tearing up. “He is.”

  “I… I knew, but I didn’t know.” Which was true. I knew, deep inside me that there was something wrong with Pax. The death of his brothers-in-arms, it had to scar a man. “Why isn’t he fighting for me now?”

  Addie shook her head. “He doesn’t feel worthy.”

  Those four words resonated in me.

  “My God.” Tears fell from my eyes. “My God.” I looked over at her. “How did you know?”

  “I keep telling you, I am Oprah.” She said it so solemnly, so matter-of-factly that for one brief moment I didn’t catch her words. Then I burst out laughing, and started sobbing. “What am I going to do, Addie?” She reached over, rubbing my back.

  “Love him, Jetta. You’ve forgiven him, but he can’t forgive himself.”

  I nodded. “But how?”

  “You’ll work it out.”

  The door behind us burst open and with a sharp crack it bounced against the wall. In the doorway stood Marco, Paul, and Anthony with my bodyguards for the day, Reece and Shannon.

  Reece glanced around, his hand on his gun at his waist, and then looked over at me. “You good?”

  I nodded. “Girl stuff.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder at Paul. “You good?”

  Paul looked pissed. “Jetta, we need to—”

  “I’m coming!” I surged up off the floor, clasping Addie’s hand and pulling her up with me. I enveloped her in a hug, feeling her arms squeeze me tight.

  “Thank you,” I whispered fiercely in her ear. “Thank you.”

  She squeezed tighter. “Any time.”

  I dropped my arms and turned back to the men in the doorway. “Right!” I swiped at my face repeatedly, trying to look less like a raccoon now that my eyeliner had run. “Let’s do this.”

  We returned to the stage and rocked the rest of the afternoon and into the night. I put all my confusion, hurt, heartache and love into the music.

  Even Paul admitted it was the best he had ever heard.

  At the end of practice, I went backstage, looking for my ride home.

  Pax emerged from the shadows.

  I looked up at him; he looked down at me, his gaze guarded.

  “Take me home?” I asked the question softly, holding my breath for the answer.

  He nodded, holding out a hand. I entwined my fingers with his.

  We left like that, no words, just my hand gripped tightly in his.

  Jetta

  It was nearly midnight by the time we got back to Pax’s place. He’d bought me a burger and chips, which I inhaled on the ride back. Conversation was non-existent. By the time I walked through the door of his house, I was on edge, twitchy, ready to force him to talk to me.

  He entered and dropped his keys on the coffee table. Not looking at me, he spoke to the room at large. “I’m wrecked. I’ll set the alarm, then I’m going to bed.”

  “Pax, can we—”

  “Not tonight, Jetta.” His voice was tired, worn. “I’ve been dealing with issues all day. Putting out fires and calming clients down. It’s been a long few weeks and I just need sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

  I shut my mouth and watched him walk around, securing the house.

  “I’m going for a shower.”

  I washed off the emotions of today. The fact that Pax had turned up and brought me home was a good thing. He could have sent me to one of his employees’ houses, or somewhere else. Instead, he’d brought me to his home.

  I took that small gesture to mean that he still wanted me in his life. Still wanted to be connected. I exited the bathroom to an empty bed. A quick peek around the house showed everything was normal, but no Pax. I turned and headed back to the bedroom; that was when I saw it. The door to the spare bedroom was shut. I stopped. He had only one bed in the house. Surely he wasn’t in there.

  I opened the door without knocking and found Paxton. The light from the hall streamed in behind me to illuminate him, sheets pulled halfway up his bare chest, back flat to the mattress, an arm behind his head.

  “Jetta?” He lifted up, looking over at me.

  I took in the room. It was a nice room, the bottom half of the walls covered in white panelling and the top half painted pale robin’s-egg blue. The bed was a queen with whitewashed wood to match the walls. There were matching bedside tables and a dresser tucked in the corner with a mirror. No bedside lights or dressing, but considering this morning there hadn’t even been a
bed in there, I was impressed.

  And utterly devastated.

  “Jet?” His voice was soft, questioning.

  My eyes went to him, wet. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you space.”

  “When did you...?” I gestured to the bed and dresser.

  He sighed. “I called Mum. She was happy to help.”

  I nodded, absorbing that. “’Cause she knows you no longer want me.”

  “What?” He sat up, the sheets falling to pool at his waist. “No. Because I said I needed one.”

  I shook my head, confused. “Then why are you in here? Do you want to break the bed in?”

  Paxton’s face was a mask of bitter humour. “No, Jetta. I’m in here because I can’t be in the other bed with you. Not when I know I have to let you go.”

  “Paxton—” I shook my head, cutting myself off. “I won’t beg.”

  “What?”

  “I said, I won’t beg.” I raised my hands, gesturing between him and me. “You either want me or you don’t. I want in that bed with you. But you have to let me in.”

  “Jetta—”

  “Decide.” I was firm, waiting.

  Paxton seemed to struggle for a moment before he finally lowered his head, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. “This does not bode well for me.” He threw the sheets off the other side and I flew into that bed, pressing myself against him.

  We didn’t speak for a long moment. He held me, stroking my back while I kept arms wrapped tightly around him, my ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

  “Jetta. About this morning…” I waited, tilting my head to look up at him.

  “I was a piece of shit.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “You were.”

  “Thanks, princess, you’re great for my ego.”

  I shrugged, waiting. He seemed to be searching for the words.

  “You’re right, Jetta. I am broken. But so are you. We both are. And we’re in this shit spiral where I feel guilt over the last ten years and you hit that trigger point and I lose it. I can’t see this working.”

  “Pax—”

  “No.” He sighed, arms tightening around me. “No. I can’t bring you down with me. The world I live in is not a good place.”

  “You done?” I mimicked his words from that morning.

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” I pulled away and sat up, leaning over him. “One.” I held up a finger. “The world you live in? It’s the same one I’m in. Two.” I held up a second finger. “This ‘we’re both broken’ stuff? Yeah. Yeah, it’s true. But you know what? So are other people. So what do we do? We stick together, we get help. Counselling, whatever we need. We do it and we do it ASAP. We don’t give up. You say you love who I am now, well, I love who you are. The more I know, the more I love. Love doesn’t give up. Which brings me to three.” I held up the third finger, then dropped my hand to his chest, balancing so I could get my head close to his. “I’m sorry I called you weak. You aren’t. You’re trying the best way you know how. Paxton Elliot, you are my dream. And you wrote that I was your sweetest regret. Don’t lie to me and say that you don’t want this to happen. You do. So fight for it. Fight for us. I am. Can’t you see how much I am?”

  “I want to, Jetta. But I have no fight left in me.”

  I dropped onto him, wrapping my arms around his body, feeling him tremble. “Then give in. Because I’m going to win this fight.”

  “You’re not helping this, Jetta.”

  “Yeah. I am. Trust me.”

  “Jetta, once this thing with Esso is over, we’re done.”

  “Then let me have now.”

  He shook his head and fell silent but his arms pulled me closer, his grip almost bruising. I kept my arms around him as we settled.

  “Esso is going to be at your gig on Saturday.”

  “I know.”

  “Jetta, that’s—”

  “I get it, Pax. That’s the place where it’s going to go down. It makes sense. You know where he’ll be and when.”

  “I want you safe.”

  “I know.” My arms tightened around him.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Jetta. Nothing.”

  “I know.”

  “Then once it’s over—”

  “I get it, Pax.”

  His arms tightened around me. “Saturday.”

  “Saturday.” I kept holding him long after we fell asleep.

  Thursday was much the same as Wednesday, only without all the emotional bullshit. We practiced the shit out of our set list but at lunch, Paul started raging.

  “We don’t have a final song!” He was pissed, stomping about the stage, yelling at the roadies.

  “What do you want, Paul? Us to write a new one and learn it in less than forty-eight hours?” Anthony’s voice was bitingly sarcastic.

  “Yes.” He snarled out the words as something started niggling the back of my brain. “We need something original, something that’s going to tear people apart from the inside.”

  “Why?” This came from Marco. “It’s not as if the whole concert isn’t a fucking roller coaster ride of emotions.”

  Paul was shaking his head. “No! We need - we need them to be wanting more. To be feeling like they need more!”

  I walked off stage as they started to argue and headed for the crew area. Karen, our stage manager, was sorting through a box of electrical cords. I borrowed pen and paper from her clipboard and returned, madly capturing words as they poured like water through me.

  “Jet Plane?” I blinked up at Marco who was standing with both Paul and Anthony, all of them looking at me. I glanced around and noticed I randomly had a guitar in my hand. When had that happened? The piece of paper was now completely filled with mad scribblings.

  The song was simple, the music easy to learn in twenty-four hours. Its main punch were the words.

  Paul reached for the paper, reading the words aloud as Anthony and Marco both stared at me. When he finally finished, they all glanced at each other.

  “It’s good,” Marco admitted with a grin.

  “Fucking ace,” Paul agreed.

  “Do we have time?” Anthony was the only slightly sane one.

  “We need to make time.” Paul declared, calling for Karen. “Get this printed up and then bring out four copies. I want this done by the time lunch is back.” She nodded and scurried off.

  “So we’re actually going to do this?” I asked the question, looking at my uncles-by-choice.

  There was a pause as Paul and Marco both nodded. Anthony hesitated then sighed and nodded as well.

  “Fuck it, I’m in.”

  We practiced until nearly midnight. Anthony called it, complaining that his vocals were sore and his arms were tired.

  I was exhausted. Yesterday had been a shit fight of emotions. Today had simply been exhausting. Feeling like a dirty sweat rag, I trucked out to the dressing room and showered while waiting for my ride. Bodyguards were excellent for two things: making you feel special, and driving you around everywhere.

  I was an independent woman. I liked to think of myself as a feminist, but I was woman enough to admit that being driven around was nice. It freed up time to think, let me get home after a long day without crashing on the way, and was just a nice warm fuzzy.

  Though I did miss being able to control the radio. Badarse motherfuckers weren’t into Dido or pop.

  I finished in the shower and slowly got dressed, feeling the buzz of the day drain away. Exhaustion was a bitch and I wanted a bed. I had to be back super early for the final day of practice, and it was already after midnight.

  Pax sat on the couch in the main dressing room. I was walking out of the bathroom, drying my hair with a towel, when I spotted him.

  “Hey.” I stopped, dropping my hand and giving him a small smile.

  “Jet.” His eyes roamed over my face. “You’re wrecked.”

  “Yep,” I agreed, moving to the couch and slumping down on it, le
tting go of the towel and moving to wrap my arms around him. “Missed you today.”

  “Jetta—”

  “Paxton.” I sighed. His arms came up and held me. “Your mouth is saying one thing, your body is telling me another.”

  He tightened his arms. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

  “Why?” I looked up, scrunching my nose at him. “Because I want a life with you?”

  The look in his eyes broke me. I’d never seen someone so hopeless, so utterly devastated. “You can’t have that. We already agreed.”

  “No. You agreed.” I shook my head. “Just tell me why?” I whispered the words, hoping he’d finally tell me.

  “Because…” He swallowed, his eyes closing. “It’s not going to make sense to you, Jetta, but… have you ever just known something was going to happen?”

  I blinked at the question. “I think… yes?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well,” I drew back a little, confused at where this conversation was taking us, “when Courtney first joined the school choir and landed the lead, we invited the uncles to come. And I,” I shrugged, “I just knew that Paul would hear her and want her signed on.”

  “And knowing, you still invited him?” Paxton pressed.

  I sighed, rubbing a palm to my eyes. “Yeah. I knew it was inevitable. She was amazing and I would never try to hold her back. She isn’t a precious stone to be buried away; she needs to be doing what she loves. I knew it would be messy and bring all the chaos that was Mum and Dad’s reality back. But…” I looked up at him. “I had no control over it. It was going to happen with or without me.”

  “And you just knew?” His voice was gruff, deep, and sincere.

  “Yeah.” I laughed. “Psychic perhaps?”

  “I’m dying, Jetta.” His words took a moment to sink in.

  “What?”

  “I’m—I’m dying.” He lifted a hand up to run through his hair.

  “How?” My hands came up to grab fistfuls of his shirt. “What, how? I don’t understand!”

  Paxton shrugged. “Ever since Brick and Limo, that moment, I’ve known.”

  “Does that mean…? Did something happen?”

  “No. I just… Like with Courtney, I just know that I’m going to die. That my time is limited. I thought I was okay with it. That I’d come to terms with it. I wanted you by my side when it happened. I wanted to not have you as a regret. But now…” He stopped, eyes closing as if in pain. “Now I know that I can’t do that to you.”