The Edge of Heaven (Broken Wings Duet Book 2)

by Gia Riley

  “She’s always been pretty,” I heard her say the first night. “Too fucking pretty, Jax.”

  I cut that night and hoped that it made me uglier—as ugly as I felt on the inside about losing my dad and hating her. I thought, if I went ahead and ruined myself before she could do it, then maybe she’d like me a little more.

  Nobody could grow to dislike me more than Tess. I wasn’t perfect, and she reminded me of how worthless I was every chance she got.

  “Are we leaving now?” I ask Cindy.

  She nods and smiles again, showing off her perfectly white teeth. “Everyone’s waiting.”

  “How many people?”

  “There are three girls and three boys. Ages thirteen to eighteen.”

  “Eighteen?” I question.

  She reaches out to touch my shoulder, but I back up before she can make contact. I see the disappointment, but I ignore it.

  “We’re your family now, Winnie. You have a birthday coming up, and I don’t want you to be scared about that. Turning eighteen should be exciting.”

  I’ve been looking forward to being an adult for so long—mostly so that I could escape Tess—that I haven’t thought about much other than that. I just need to get to that date on the calendar, so I can move on.

  “Okay.” I swallow and glance at Jasper. “I guess…I guess I’m ready then,” I lie.

  Ready? I’m nowhere near ready.

  The thought of sharing a room with a stranger or fighting for the bathroom when I need to escape scares me. I’ll be expected to do chores like a child and earn the right to privileges. I’m used to making myself invisible and erasing my footsteps wherever I go.

  Jasper stands up so fast, the rocking chair slams against the wall. Nancy checks for a dent and runs her finger over the small indentation.

  “Now?” he says in a rush. “I thought she had another therapy session, and then she’d go after dinner? We had some things to discuss.”

  He wants to discuss the phone again, and I’m sure he’d like to discuss us. Nancy tolerates Jasper, but she doesn’t like that he’s as dependent on me as I am on him. He’s my best friend, but I can’t tell her he’s here because he’s working with Trey, too. That would mess up Trey’s plans. Plans I know nothing about but believe exist.

  “I’ll be back for you, Winn. Wait for me.”

  I heard Trey say it in the hospital. My body was paralyzed, and my brain was foggy, but I heard him. And, when he held my hand, I tried to move my fingers to show him I was listening. By the time I made something happen, Jasper was with me, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. The small movements I was finally able to make were meant for Trey.

  Nancy mashes her lips together, like she was expecting this might be difficult for Jasper. “Cindy thought it would be better to get settled earlier in the day. She’ll have her therapy sessions as scheduled at the house.”

  “I’d like a minute with Jasper before we go, if that’s okay.”

  Both Cindy and Nancy nod, and as soon as they’re in the hallway, I pull Jasper into the bathroom, close the door, and lock it.

  “I’m not ready for this, Winnie.” His face is flushed, and he’s starting to sweat.

  I reach up and brush the hair off his forehead. He squeezes his eyes shut because my hands are freezing. They’re always cold when I’m nervous.

  Jasper’s warm breath flutters across my forehead, and it finally hits me that I’m leaving. He won’t be on the other side of the fence in his big house on the hill anymore. When I need him, I can’t push through the thick branches, climb between the broken fence, and then scale the ladder attached to the side of his house. To get to him, I’ll need to figure out the bus route or get a ride.

  Since I’ve been in the hospital, I’ve gotten used to seeing him as soon as I open my eyes in the morning.

  “You’re my best friend, Jasper,” I whisper. “I didn’t have a friend until I met you.”

  “Why are you talking like you’re never going to see me again?”

  “Am I?”

  “Your voice is sad. Like when you want to run away.”

  “If I run away, I’ll run to you. I promise.”

  “Don’t leave without me, Winnie. No matter how bad it gets, just wait for me. I’ll go anywhere with you. We’ll figure it out.”

  My lips pull into an unexpected smile. “I haven’t even gotten there yet, and we’re already running away.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me against his chest. I smell the dryer sheet his mom uses to clean his clothes. It’s how I imagine home smells like—one with two parents and a chore list hanging on the fridge. Wash baskets with each kid’s name on the front and a couple of hooks on the wall by the door where backpacks and lunch boxes hang. A dog with scruffy hair and a tennis ball full of drool. A reminder about the curfew being shouted at a teenager hurrying out the front door.

  Normal. I want normal so bad, it hurts.

  Tears prick my eyes, and I slide my hand into Jasper’s pocket, rooting around for his pocketknife. He knows what I’m after and grabs my hand while it’s still inside the denim.

  “Winnie,” he says with warning, “stop it.”

  “Don’t judge me, please. Not this time.”

  He lets go of my wrist, and I keep my hand on the knife inside his pocket. He stays still as I pull it out, and then I dig my fingernail into the little groove to pull out the blade. Head-to-toe warmth washes over me like a soft blanket on a cold night.

  “Give it back, Winnie.”

  “Turn around,” I whisper. “Just turn around, and don’t move until I tell you.”

  “You’re not cutting yourself with my knife while I’m standing here.”

  I can’t look at him when I say, “Wait outside for me. Tell them I’m going to the bathroom.” Telling him to lie for me isn’t fair, but I’m desperate.

  He carefully places his hands around my wrists. Jasper’s always careful with me, but when he says, “No,” he means it.

  But I mean it, too, when I shake my head. “One cut.” My scars tingle with anticipation.

  He says nothing, so I push up on my tippy-toes and kiss him on the cheek. The breath he sucks in is so sharp, I know I have him.

  “I won’t ask you for another thing for as long as I live, Jasper.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he says as he lets go of me and turns around.

  His words are a harsh rejection, and they’re almost enough to make me want to stop.

  Almost.

  Saying good-bye to him is weighing me down and so is leaving the hospital with no idea about where Trey is or when I’ll see him again. I trust Jasper to tell him where I’m going, so that’s not really a concern. It’s the reality that I don’t know if Cindy or her husband will let me see Trey once I’m living under their roof. They might monitor every move I make or make sure I’m never alone outside the house—because of the shooting. And I’ll suffocate to death if that’s the case.

  Gingerly, because my body’s still pretty sore, I pull my sweatpants down to my knees and sit down on the floor with my legs out in front of me. I’m thankful the material is black and can hide the blood after I’m finished, and then I press the knife into the first white scar at the top of my thigh. Hesitating for a second, I look up at Jasper. I’ve never cut in front of someone before. I wasn’t even sure if I could. But, as I push harder and slice across the scar that holds so many memories, I bite my lip to keep from making a sound.

  The familiar burn is followed by the sting I crave. My eyes water at the corners, and if I were still attached to a machine, I’m sure my pulse would be fast enough to send a couple of nurses running into the room to check on me. That rush of adrenaline fades fast though. As quickly as it shot up, it crashes, and then I’m left with a trickle of blood. I stare at it for longer than normal because I don’t know if it’s even my blood. I lost so much of my own, they gave me a transfusion in the operating room to keep me
alive, and a little guilt trickles around the curve of my thigh with the droplets.

  Just one more cut, I tell myself.

  One more, and it’ll be enough to hold me over until I get to the house and meet everyone. But I know that’s not true. Going to Sunshine Place will only make me want to cut more. All the chaos, people, questions. I’m terrible with questions. And I don’t want to go back to sleeping with one eye open again.

  Do it, Winnie.

  One more cut becomes two and then three.

  Jasper turns around before I have a chance to wipe away the blood. He lunges toward me, kneeling on the floor with a handful of tissues. “Fuck, Winnie! Enough!” he shouts.

  “Shh! Keep your voice down.” My voice is void of his panic. Bare of emotion or regret.

  I never regret this feeling—the reassuring euphoria. If it were up to me, I’d do another cut. I might even make a new scar beneath the others.

  “Give me the damn knife back. God, what was I thinking?”

  “You care about me?” I say it like I can’t decide if I believe it or if I want it to be true.

  He pauses with the bloody tissues in his hand. “Of course I care about you. All I want is to make you happy. Don’t you get that?”

  “Nobody else would let me cut.”

  “Because it’s wrong,” he says with disgust lacing his voice. “I don’t understand it, and I never will. You’re beautiful, and you want to put marks all over yourself. You want to see yourself bleed, and that’s fucked up.”

  Wrong.

  Fucked up.

  I stare at my hands and then at the thick vein across my wrist. For a fleeting moment, I imagine what it would be like to cut across it. Right here. Right now.

  “Cold water helps stop the bleeding faster.”

  Jasper just looks at me. Like he can’t believe that’s all I have to say after he just told me I was crazy for wanting to mark up my skin. He’s right though, so why would I argue?

  With red-rimmed eyes, he presses cold paper towels against my leg. He’s quiet for a few minutes, and then he says, “What happens if you do this and I’m not there? What if you take it too far one night when you’re upset?”

  “I’ve never taken it too far. I know when to stop, Jasper.”

  He still won’t look at me, so I take his free hand and lace my fingers with his. Usually, it calms him down as much as it comforts me.

  “Look at me.”

  When his eyes shift to mine, I get lost. I want to tell him that he has nothing to worry about. I want to be the normal girl he wants me to be. I want to give him everything he needs, like he’s given me, but I can’t. All I know is that I’ll see him again soon. I have to. Because life without Jasper wouldn’t be as bearable. Just like never kissing Trey again would destroy me.

  “Don’t be upset. You just gave me the best gift ever. You’re letting me walk out of here with exactly what I needed.”

  Cringing, he lets go of my hand and tosses the paper towels into the trash can. Then, he shoves the knife back into his pocket. I’m sure he’ll throw it away as soon as he gets home so that he’ll never be in this situation again.

  “What about what I need, Winnie?”

  “Tell me.”

  A knock on the door interrupts us, and he helps me stand up.

  I pull my pants back up and fix my sweatshirt the best I can. “They’re gonna think we had sex.”

  That makes him smile. “No, Winnie. When I have you, it won’t be on a bathroom floor. You’ll be in my bed—where you belong.”

  I wait for the butterflies to run rampant, but they only flutter a little bit. I smile and hope I blush a little. I do care about Jasper. I feel something for him, and I want to want him as much as he wants me. But Trey’s always in the back of my mind. As long as he’s there, nobody else is going to come close to setting my soul on fire the way he does.

  Ten

  Trey

  Jasper: She’s with a woman named Cindy. They’re going to Sunshine Place.

  I reread the text again, like it’s going to change if I stare at it long enough. I knew the social worker would place her soon. She’s been riding Winnie’s case hard, giving her extra time and attention. From the sound of it, she’s damn good at her job.

  Sleep has been something between a nod-off in the car between stops and the hour or so a night when I actually see a pillow and bed. I haven’t been able to shut my mind off long enough to get any kind of real sleep. I feel helpless and jealous as hell that Jasper gets to see Winnie when I don’t.

  Last week, the jealousy got so bad, I almost did something stupid. I almost risked it all, packed my shit, and went to the hospital. In my head, the plan was solid. I’d walk right in, sign Winnie out, and leave. Whatever medical care she needed, I’d find a way to get it for her. Whether I had to hire a doctor or nurse to care for her, I’d do it. No amount of money was too much as long as she was with me. But going to the hospital would have put a target directly on her back.

  I’m no saint though. I still did what I had to do. Jasper followed through with his promise to watch over Winnie. For that, I owe him. I’m just not sure he’s going to appreciate the kind of compensation I have in mind.

  I did what I had to do.

  Now, it’s only a matter of time until Jasper sees that for himself.

  He’ll be upset for a while, like I was when I was his age. And then he’ll see the benefits and understand why I did what I did. He might even thank me once he gets used to his new life. Because Winnie’s going to have a new life, too. Once she turns eighteen and the law’s on our side, she’ll be mine. The second the principal places the diploma in her hand, we’ll be taking off.

  I’ll give her a good life.

  The life she’s always deserved.

  Our life.

  Together.

  Eleven

  Winnie

  The car’s too hot, and it smells like lemons. Cindy’s driving like she’s waiting for a deer to jump out in front of the car. There are a lot of woods down this stretch of the road, so I guess it’s possible, but I’m pretty sure she’s only driving this slow because my silence makes her nervous.

  I try to ask her a question so that she doesn’t think I’m ungrateful or stupid, but then my mind shifts to Trey and how I’d rather be in his car right now. My throat gets scratchy, and I hold back the tears, convincing myself to keep a brave face around Cindy and the other kids.

  My sweatpants are damp, and I need a Band-Aid. I use that as a distraction. A couple of times, I even press on the cuts, so they clot faster. The cotton from my pants stings a little, but I like it. It means I’m capable of feeling something—something other than sadness and shame.

  Cindy changes the radio station again. I think she’s waiting for me to tell her I like one of the songs, but I haven’t been listening to music lately. The hospital didn’t have a radio, and the TV stayed off most of the time. Nancy said, if I had time to watch it, I had time to work on myself, and then she would walk me to another counseling session with more people I didn’t know.

  We sat in a round circle with chairs facing the center of the circle, just like in the movies. I always thought it was weird that you had to look strangers in the eye while revealing your deepest, darkest secrets, but Nancy said that was the point.

  “Look fear in the eye, Winnie. Don’t ever give it the power to destroy you.”

  I thought about that for a while. Did I let what Jax and Tess had done to me destroy me? I didn’t think so. I woke up every day, and I tried to make it through the day. The cutting stopped while I was in the hospital, and I had a grip on my anger. But what didn’t change was the self-doubt—the way I thought I wasn’t good enough. If I had just been stronger, better, less dependent on other people, I could have made it on my own by now.

  When it came time for me to speak to the circle, I opened my mouth, and I screamed. Some of the girls covered their ears. A couple of guys laughed at me. Nancy just let me get it out.


  When I was finished, she said, “Do you feel better?”

  Better? No. I didn’t feel much different.

  That was when she told me, “We’ll get there, Winnie. Just take it one day at a time. Let one second follow the next.”

  I listened to her. I focused on seconds instead of minutes. Minutes instead of hours. Then, hours instead of days. Time in the hospital became routine and manageable, but it didn’t change life on the other side of the tracks. When I left, I knew I’d have to dig deeper than I ever had before. And that made me want to cut.

  Another station change, and Cindy says, “You’re probably glad to be done with that hospital food.”

  “I liked the hospital food,” I tell her.

  It was the best food I’d had since Dad died. The fact that it didn’t come from a can or a pouch made it taste better. It was usually a hot meal, and I got to use actual silverware to eat it.

  Cindy flicks her turn signal and doesn’t say anything until she’s made the turn onto a new street. This one’s lined on both sides with huge trees. The kind of trees that hold so much history, the leaves tell stories when they fall to the ground.

  “You’re right, Winnie. Hospital food isn’t so bad. What are your favorite snacks? I’ll make sure to get them for you the next time I run to the market.”

  “I pretty much lived off of tuna fish and canned fruit. I’d get a lot of saltine crackers from the cafeteria; they were free. I couldn’t afford much.”

  She swipes at her cheek and rubs her hand on her pants. There’s still a little dampness left underneath her eyes.

  Pity. Pity feels cheaper than dancing at The Whip. At least there, I’d get money in my pockets and not have to defend hospital food.

  “Well, I have my homemade chicken soup simmering on the stove. It’s my claim to fame. How does that sound?”