The Edge of Heaven (Broken Wings Duet Book 2)

by Gia Riley

  It was the same deep voice I’d heard for the first time in the living room. The stranger I hadn’t seen before tonight. He scared me, so I kept my eyes closed tight and stayed as still as I could. I thought about the raindrops falling into the bowl and wondered if they’d crashed over the side yet, spilling onto the floor. I should have put a towel down just in case I didn’t get to it in time.

  A scratchy palm touched my arm, and I wanted to sit up and move away from him. But I was afraid that being awake would make it worse, so I didn’t move.

  The floor by the hallway creaked, and my door opened slowly.

  “Get the fuck out, Jax.”

  I’d recognize that voice anywhere. It was a good voice. The kind that looked out for me and made sure I was safe.

  The hand on my arm disappeared, and I cracked my eye open far enough to see what was going on. Trey had his hand around the stranger’s neck, and he pushed him into the hallway. The door closed, and I heard a loud thud and then silence.

  Trey always came.

  He always knew when I needed him.

  I need him now.

  My body stops trembling, and I can swallow without forcing it. I blink a couple of times, and the room slowly comes back into focus. The nurse pushes something clear into my IV; it’s cold, and it makes me shiver.

  “It’s okay,” she whispers. “This will help you relax.”

  “I don’t want drugs,” I tell her. “No drugs.”

  I don’t want drugs because I’m afraid I’ll end up like Tess or my dad. Addicted or dead. Dad was never an addict until he was. And I think the line is so fine that, sometimes, people don’t realize they’ve crossed it until they’re six feet in the ground.

  The woman with the clipboard takes a step closer, and I feel the same way I felt when Jax was standing beside my bed—scared, alone, afraid to speak. I wish she would leave. Why can’t she leave me alone?

  “I need a phone to call Trey,” I tell the nurse.

  He might go to the trailer, looking for me, and if I’m not there, he’ll think I’m in trouble. I am in trouble, but I’m underage, and I doubt my name is on the news.

  “He’ll pick me up, and then I can go home.”

  “Sweetie, you can’t go home. You just had major surgery, and your body needs time to heal here, in the hospital. When you’re well enough to be discharged, we’ll find proper placement for you.”

  Placement? No. I’m not going into some foster home with a bunch of strangers who don’t know me.

  I don’t want a new home. I just want Trey and the trailer. My key’s in my purse, and if I can find my purse, I’ll be able to get there on my own. Nobody has to know where I’m staying. It’s not like anyone cared before today. I was Tess’s, and she could do whatever she wanted with me.

  The woman scans her file folder and says, “Is Trey your father? I don’t have any record of him on your paperwork.”

  “My dad is dead.” Even though I just told her my dad was dead, words I’ve said very few times out loud, I feel my pulse start to slow down, and my chest isn’t thumping the way it was. The drugs. “What did you give me?”

  “A mild sedative. It won’t make you fall asleep. Just enough to make you comfortable, so you can talk.”

  She turns a page in my file, and I wonder how she has so much information about me.

  Where did she get it, and is it even true?

  “What about your brother, Winnie? Would you like me to get him? Maybe he can sit with you while we talk.”

  “I don’t have a brother.”

  Nancy, the social worker, closes her folder and bites her lip. “I didn’t think you did. It would have made my job a little tougher if I’d had two kids to place instead of one. I thought maybe he was eighteen and didn’t need my services.”

  “I don’t need your services either, Nancy. I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”

  “But you shouldn’t have to, Winnie. I think we need to talk. And I think we should start from the beginning.”

  “You want the facts?”

  “I want to know everything about you. I want you to leave here happy and have the life you deserve.”

  I pull at a thread on the blanket covering my legs. “What about what I want? Don’t I have a say?”

  Eight

  Jasper

  The second Winnie’s door opens and her room is empty, I slither by the nurses’ station and then sneak inside to see her. Her eyes are closed, but a tear slides down her cheek. My palms start to sweat again because she looks so small in the bed, but I keep moving until I’m next to her. Then, I sit down in the chair beside the bed and wait. When she’s ready, she’ll talk. And, if that’s not tonight, then I’ll sit here in silence, like I did when she was unconscious.

  Only a couple of minutes pass when she sniffles and surprises me. She opens her eyes and says, “Jasper,” and my heart about thumps out of my chest.

  I stand up and sit on the edge of the bed, as close as I can get, so she doesn’t have to hurt her throat while trying to speak.

  “Talk to me, Winnie.”

  Her eyes glisten with tears, and she’s so worn out and tired. “I’m scared.”

  I’m scared, too.

  “We’re not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?”

  “Who’s we?” she asks.

  “Me and Trey.”

  I haven’t heard from him since the first text, which I’m pretty sure was just a test to see if I’d hold true to my word. I responded like I was supposed to, and I guess he didn’t think Winnie would be awake yet because he didn’t even ask. The jealous side of me was glad that I knew more than he did, so I held on to my secret, and the texts stopped.

  “Trey’s here? Where?” She looks toward the hallway like he’ll walk through the door at any minute.

  I feel bad when I tell her, “He’s not here anymore. He had to leave.”

  She nods, and the little bit of light that flickered in her eyes when she said his name vanishes. I see the way she sucks her lip into her mouth to keep the tears from falling again.

  With a shaky voice, she asks, “He’s not coming back, is he?”

  “He can’t, Winnie. It’s too risky. If he’s followed, that would be dangerous for you and him.”

  “You’re right.”

  I’m right, but that doesn’t mean I want to be. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I scroll through my Contacts and show her his name and number. Then, I open the text messages and show her the conversation between the two of us. At first glance, she seems stunned. I can’t blame her. I was just as shocked when he put me in charge of watching over Winnie. She’s the one thing Trey cares about. But she means everything to me, too.

  “I don’t want you two fighting,” she whispers. “He’s complicated, and he can be bossy when he wants to be. It’s not him though; it’s his life. It’s not a normal life.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re getting along fine, and we’re working together.”

  She takes a deep breath and seems like she believes me. “Do you think I can message him on your phone?”

  I hand it to her, and she stares at the buttons. Then, I remember she doesn’t have a phone of her own, so I take it back, open the text, and then give it back. “Just type whatever you want to say, and press the arrow on the right.”

  I tell myself I won’t read it after she sends it. That, the next time I open the chat, I’ll pretend her words to Trey aren’t there, waiting for me to look at them. But I already know I’ll look.

  Her message must be short because it takes her only a second to type before she says, “I’m done.”

  “Keep it for now. In case he responds.”

  She looks so hopeful as she watches the screen, and I wonder if she’d have that same look on her face if the roles were reversed—if Trey were sitting here and they were messaging me.

  Probably not.

  I’m not old enough to save her the way Trey can. I can’t sign papers to keep her out of foster care or
a group home. I’m just a seventeen-year-old kid, same as her.

  “You should get some rest, Winnie.”

  “You won’t leave?”

  “I won’t leave.”

  She reaches for my hand and links her fingers with mine. I don’t know why she does it. Maybe she needs the reminder that she’s not alone or something to anchor her as she sleeps, but I squeeze her hand three times—my way of telling her that I love her without actually saying the words.

  “You, too,” she whispers as she drifts off, hopefully to a dream that’s full of happiness and not a nightmare.

  She gets it.

  She gets me.

  She gets us.

  Nine

  Winnie

  It’s been three weeks since I got stuck between Tess and the bullet. Twenty-one days since I felt the searing burn tear through my skin and knock me to my knees. They say your whole life flashes in front of your eyes when you’re about to die. That didn’t happen to me. There were no memories of my mother, not a single glimpse of my dad leading me toward heaven, and definitely no angel wings fluttering around me. In my final moments, the bright light didn’t come to welcome me home—because I didn’t have a home. Nobody wanted me. Not even dead.

  As the dreary darkness invaded, I should have been scared that reality was slipping away. But, as the silence took over and I fell onto my side, I didn’t care that I was lying on uneven gravel with little pieces of broken glass pricking my skin. Numbness was all I felt. No pain. No agony. I simply didn’t feel.

  The shards stuck to my cheek left little cuts as I ran my fingernail through the dirt near my mouth. I didn’t even try to pray. Living or dying didn’t matter because I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be living for anymore. Whatever my body decided to do, I would accept it. And, if I was transported to hell instead of heaven, I was sure it couldn’t be much worse than life.

  Heaven or hell, right or wrong, living or dead, I knew Winnie Dawes would be forgotten, no matter what happened. Nobody at school would put up a shrine at my locker to remember the girl who had only said fifteen words during an entire school year. They wouldn’t cry in the courtyard over lunch period or pay tribute to me on the fifty-yard line at the first football game of the year. My classmates didn’t know me, just like I didn’t know them. I never took the time to care. Never let anyone get close enough to see how afraid I really was. Because, if I let someone see the truth, I couldn’t take it back.

  I wasn’t alone though. To put it nicely, Carillon had issues. Everyone was fighting a battle nobody knew about. You could see it in the slumped shoulders or the tired eyes as they came and went. The neighbors knew my trailer wasn’t safe. It was no place for a teenager to call home. But they turned a blind eye to the men who lurked at all hours of the night, sneaking into my bedroom to prey on the girl who so desperately wanted to be loved. I was an easy target. And, as long as I was the focus, the rest of the girls my age would be left alone.

  Hours of therapy haven’t changed what I’ve been through. Therapy hasn’t made what happened to me any easier to talk about. And it hasn’t made me fight any harder for myself than I did before. Despite the pats on the back and being told I’m strong, I’m still all alone. I just have a few more scars to add to my collection.

  Nancy, my social worker, has gone out of her way to make me comfortable. Besides the group sessions, she’s added private sessions of her own. I’m sure she’s worked at least sixty hours with me, and while I’m thankful, I know it won’t do any good. Because, come five o’clock, I won’t be free anymore.

  She hasn’t told me about my placement yet. I know it’s coming, and I know she’s purposely waiting until the last minute, so I have less time to dwell on where I’ll be going.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years, Winnie?”

  Five years was a lot of time. I usually lived day to day, not allowing myself to focus on more than twenty-four hours at a time. More than that, and it was hard to breathe.

  She’d asked an honest question, so I tried to give her an honest answer. “With Trey.”

  Her expression easily showed how much she disapproved of that choice. Without going into a lot of detail, I told her about him.

  “What else?” she asked, like he wasn’t enough even though he was everything.

  “I want to go to design school and have my own business.”

  That made her eyes sparkle, and I knew I’d said the right thing for once.

  “Always have a goal for yourself. Don’t let your future depend on another person. Focus on you, Winnie. You can make your dreams happen.”

  I so badly want to believe that’s true. Without Trey though, all I see is a life half-full. The little spark I feel when he’s around gets me through the tough times. When I’m down, I think of him, and I’m back to the clouds, floating around. He’s my little bit of goodness that I never want to be without.

  “Where do you see yourself living in a week?” she asked next.

  Nancy always started with the bigger picture and then worked backward. Time became shorter, and I was forced to talk about now instead of later. A week was still out of my comfort zone, but I thought about it.

  In a week, I was positive I’d still want the same thing, so I told her, “With Trey.”

  I’d never had a choice when it came to a home, but if she was going to give me one, that was where I wanted to go. My first choice would always be Trey. But just because that’s what I want doesn’t mean I am going to get it.

  Since he wasn’t at the hospital during my stay, Nancy didn’t think he would be a good fit. I told her he had a demanding job, and that only seemed to be another strike against him. She didn’t care how nice he was or how good he was to me. It didn’t matter that he’d moved into a crappy trailer across the street to watch over me or that he paid for food and school supplies when I needed money.

  Trey was my best option, but he was the worst on paper.

  The court wouldn’t allow a man with a record to have legal guardianship over me, especially one who wasn’t related by blood. Nancy didn’t care that he made me feel the safest I’d ever felt or that he made me happy. She cared about all the little things—the stuff a mom and dad would do for me. Trey would never be my parent. He couldn’t be. Because I loved him, and when I closed my eyes, I would think about our kiss and how I wanted a million more.

  “Let me ask my mom again, Winnie,” Jasper says for the tenth time today. “Now that Tess is locked up and you’re away from the park, things will calm down.”

  “She said no for a reason.”

  She said no because I’m trailer trash. Why would she risk backlash from Jax or his groupies by keeping me under her roof? Taking me in would put her at risk. It would put Lydia at risk, and that’s way too scary to think about. That little girl deserves a life without drug dealers and strippers banging on her door or lurking in her bedroom late at night.

  It’s killing Jasper that he has no idea where I’ll be in a couple of hours. He’s spent every second of every day at the hospital with me. When I went to therapy, he sat and waited in the rocking chair and took a nap. When I came back, he never asked what I’d talked about or pressured me for information. Instead, he held my hand when I couldn’t breathe, and somehow, he knew that was enough for me.

  It’ll be weird to be without him.

  “You’ll call me the second you get to where you’re going?” he asks as his knee bounces nervously.

  I wish I could give him something to calm him down. I think he needs it more than I do.

  “Yes. I’ll call as long as my foster family has a phone I can use.” I’ve heard about homes with next to nothing, and I’m fully prepared to walk into a house with my bag of clothes and continue to live off of tuna fish and crackers.

  Horrified at the possibility, Jasper digs into his pocket and hands me his phone. “I want you to take mine. I’ll get a new one and pay both bills, so don’t worry about the money.”

  “Jasper,
you can’t afford two phones.” Not on a dishwasher’s salary.

  “I’ll work extra at The Whip. Just keep it.”

  I don’t want him spending any more time at The Whip. Being there exposes him to Tess’s crew, and I know they won’t leave him alone now because of me. He’s on Trey’s side, and once they get word of that, it’ll be him against everyone. Ace can’t protect him. Nobody can.

  “I can’t take it. You’ve done enough, Jasper.”

  “Winnie, I’m not asking. Here.” He holds out his hand, and when I don’t take the phone, he opens my palm for me.

  If I needed to run away or my new foster parents got too close, I could call Jasper or Trey. I want to do the right thing, but I want to be selfish, too. I’m about to hand it back when Nancy walks into the room with another woman by her side. She has chin-length blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. She’s tiny, and she gives me a warm smile. It’s not the fake kind that usually makes my skin itch.

  She reaches her hand out, and I hesitate for a second before realizing I’m supposed to shake it. I’m not good at introductions, and meeting new people always means more talking.

  “Cindy,” she says. “It’s so nice to meet you, Winnie.”

  The name stitched on her blazer, Sunshine Place, is a group home for teenagers. I recognize it from one of the brochures Nancy sent me back to my room with. She thought it might be a good fit. I’d be able to stay at the same school, and while I hate going to class, I’d still see Jasper every day.

  Nancy watches me, and when I don’t respond, she takes a step closer. “Winnie, I’ve decided to place you with the home we discussed. Cindy’s the home mother, and you’ll spend a lot of time with her. Both she and her husband are in charge, and I think you’ll learn to enjoy your time there. There are a lot of activities, and you’ll meet your housemates as soon as you get there.”

  Cindy smiles and says, “They’re preparing for your welcome party right now.”

  A party?

  I haven’t been celebrated since I was five. Birthdays come and go without cake or candles, and I’ve never been showered with confetti or balloons. When I got to Tess’s trailer, she pointed to my room, and that was the end of it. I didn’t even have a key for the first month. Not until she trusted I wouldn’t take her stuff or steal the attention she craved away from her.