The Edge of Us

by Veronica Larsen

  She's closer to me than she's been in years. Steps away, words away. Words I promised myself I wouldn't say until she was ready to hear them. We all have an endless capacity for the truth, until the moment we're lied to and the truth becomes tainted. From there, that endless capacity shrinks down to a single shot.

  The crowd erupts into cheers at her speech. I clap along with them before I can stop myself. Then movement in my peripheral catches my attention. Over to my left, a tall white-haired man gets to his feet and heads to the back of the room and down a straight path toward me.

  Tobias Kreisler.

  My hands curl into fists, tightening at my sides.

  I hadn't realized he was here, though I should've guessed. He's always been Mila's sad excuse for a pseudo-father. Swoops in when it's convenient, disappears at moments when any real father would step up. I owe the biggest mistake of my life to him and his heartless games.

  His face is warped by anger when he reaches me. He slows down his pace just enough to hiss at me as he walks past.

  "Outside. Now."

  His shoulder clips mine, but I stay in place, not sparing him a backward glance as his loud footsteps fade down the hall behind me. Fuck him.

  I cross my arms and lean against the frame of the archway, keeping my eyes on Mila. She continues to speak, gaining lightness with every word. Applause cuts off her speech and her chest rises in triumph. She scans the room with more confidence now. Her eyes travel right past me, then fling back again.

  Our gazes lock and I know, with every bone in my body, her insides rattle the same way mine do. She falters in her words, tries to talk, and falters again. My stomach drops. I should leave, but I can't move an inch. Not when her gaze holds me in place.

  Several long seconds of silence creep into her speech. A rustle of movement spreads through the audience as people shift in their chairs, looking from each other to their surroundings. Most everyone looks right past me, searching for the source of the disruption, as though it couldn't possibly be me. But Mila's eyes hold on to me like I'm the only real thing in the room.

  But then her gaze cuts away and I sink inwardly, as if someone snapped the strings holding me up. Mila recovers and picks up where she left off, though she's pale now and the words leave her lips quicker than before.

  I shut my eyes. I never meant to ruin this for her.

  I turn to go just as she finishes. Applause explodes from behind me. I'm halfway down the hall before the clapping dies out and the clicking of heels on the stone floor causes me to turn back. Mila's pace is steady as she heads straight toward me.

  SEVENTEEN

  MILA

  SEEING HIM IS LIKE having poison flood my veins. Its rage and sickness distorting me into someone I don't know. My footsteps match the frantic pace of my heart. Cole's rooted to the spot, half-turned away as though not quite believing his eyes.

  I come to a sudden stop a safe distance away. My chest rises and falls at quick intervals as I try and fail to catch my breath. All I see is red, and when I go to speak, my lips are stiff with anger, the words shooting out of my mouth like bullets.

  "What do you want?"

  "Mila…" He steps toward me.

  A part of me shivers at hearing him say my name. His voice is rooted deep within me, wrapped in visceral memories of a time of ignorant bliss. A time of touches and whispers in the dark, and promises I believed without ever bothering to check if my feet were still on the ground.

  But I'm not that girl anymore.

  "Don't you say my name like that," I snap.

  A man and woman walk past us, hand in hand, and they look from Cole to me as though sensing trouble. I straighten and glance around. There's half-a-dozen people scattered about the hall. This isn't an encounter I want to have in public, but what choice do I have now?

  I relax my narrowed eyes, trying to dissuade the appearance of conflict. But it doesn't matter, I can't control the tension in my face. I take a few more steps in Cole's direction for the sole purpose of lowering my voice. I suck in a breath through my nose, my nostrils flaring.

  "You have something to say to me, Cole?"

  His downturned lips part for a second, making the smallest of movements as though words began to form but evaporated into thin air. Instead, he drags a hand across his mouth and down his chin. All the while, his piercing eyes consider me with slow deliberation.

  The longer I stand here, the less stable I become.

  "Say it," I grit out between my teeth. "I'm right here. Whatever it is you want to say, just say it to my face."

  I take a breath in an attempt to regain my composure. My eyes burn under the intensity of my own glare. Blinking a few times, I scan our surroundings in time to catch sight of Tobias approaching behind Cole.

  Damn it.

  The last thing I need is to bring more attention to the encounter. Tobias walks around and stands beside me. Cole's shoulders stiffen, his head moves in a nearly imperceptible shake.

  "I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Tobias says, his tone icy.

  Cole snaps back in an instant. "I'm not going anywhere."

  I go to step between them, but Tobias lifts an arm to block me.

  "I can handle this," I say, aggravated at his attempt to manhandle me. Tobias is too busy staring down Cole to notice my reaction.

  "Does she know?" Cole asks.

  Tobias lowers his arm from blocking my way. Apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes flick to mine before settling back on Cole.

  "Know what?" I ask.

  Neither man responds. Not with words, but their bodies settle into a new power dynamic, with Tobias pulling back a fraction and Cole's shoulders squaring.

  "You need to get out. Now," Tobias orders. "I won't let you ruin her life again."

  Cole bites out a short, bitter laugh. "You're such a goddamn hypocrite."

  Tobias touches my arm lightly. "Let's go, Mila." He's half-turned before he says my name.

  "No." I shake free of his hold, my arms flinging back around as I set my hands on my hips.

  "I want to know what the hell is going on."

  Someone sets a hand on my back, making me all but jump out of my skin. My heart lodges in my throat when I see who's standing behind me. Andrew moves to my side, understanding dawning on his face as he assesses the situation.

  He offers a tight nod to Tobias, who relaxes and says, "Andrew, good to see you."

  Someone calls Tobias's name from the entryway of the event hall and he lifts a hand to acknowledge them. He bows his head at me and says, "Come with me, Mila. He's not worth ruining your night over."

  He holds out an arm, which I don't take. Whatever his intentions are, I've had enough of being managed. I stand with my arms crossed, staring at him. He knows I want answers, but instead of giving me any, Tobias nods to Andrew, as though passing a torch. This would be enough to get my blood boiling, but I've been watching Cole's expression since he set his sights on Andrew. It was like a train screeching to a halt. He pulled his head back in surprise then looked down to where Andrew's arm disappears around my back.

  Tobias leaves, but Cole continues to stare at Andrew's arm.

  "I suggest you go ahead and leave now," Andrew says, stepping up to him.

  "I suggest you go ahead and get out of my face."

  This can't be happening. To make matters worse, people are starting to pay more attention to us as they walk past. I smooth a hand down the front of my dress and take a long, steady breath.

  "Both of you, that's enough. Andrew, I've got this—"

  The last words grind out between my teeth, though I keep from raising my voice and drawing more attention to an increasingly tense situation.

  Cole slips his hands into his pockets, unconcerned with the hostility oozing from Andrew's posture.

  "You don't look surprised to see me, Andrew. I'm guessing you've heard all about me. It's funny, man. Haven't heard about you at all."

  "You haven't been around much, have you?"
/>
  "And you have?" Cole points between us. "What is this, Drew?"

  My mouth snaps open in retort, but a detail of his question rattles in my brain. I glance back and forth between them.

  "You two know each other?"

  Andrew tenses beside me, his hand like a brick on my lower back. Cole's brows twitch in disbelief at my question, he opens his mouth, but Andrew cuts him off.

  "It's exactly what it looks like," he says, taking another step toward Cole. Their proximity is now too close to be mistaken as anything other than antagonistic. Andrew cocks his head and adds, "She's with me."

  Cole's face changes, muscles tensing as anger draws up in his eyes and pools there. He doesn't move, but his forearms twitch as though his hands clench in his pockets.

  "Are you sure about that? Are you sure it's not me she's thinking of when you two have sex?"

  My mouth drops open, eyes widening in panic and burning with mortification. All this time, my head spins at the rapid-fire way they respond to each other. These men clash around me as though I'm not standing right in front of them. Pretending it's somehow for me and not for their own egos, as if I'm some fragile creature without a voice and they're entitled to speak on my behalf.

  Fuck. This. Shit.

  "That is enough," I seethe. But I go unnoticed even as I scowl up at them. They tower over me and I'm helpless to stop what's next. Never before in my life have I felt every inch of my five-feet of God-given height. Even with these heels elevating me nearly half a foot.

  Andrew's fist hurls through the air and connects with Cole's jaw, sending him stumbling back into a table. Half empty champagne glasses from the cocktail hour tip over, crashing to the floor.

  "Stop it," I scream.

  The hum of conversation that previously existed around us dies in an instant. Every pair of eyes in the room moves to Cole as he regains his footing and draws back up again. His green eyes are eerily calm as he flexes his jaw, rubbing a hand over the spot where Andrew hit him.

  My hand flies to my still open mouth and despite the desperate urge to walk away from this, I can't remember how to move.

  Cole takes slow steps toward Andrew again, his voice lowering as he says, "You're going to regret that."

  EIGHTEEN

  COLE

  MY FISTS CURL TIGHT enough to send a jolt up my arms. The room closes to a pinhole and all I see is the motherfucker in front of me with the smug expression on his face.

  Two strides and I've got the collar of his suit jacket twisted up inside my hands, pulling him with it. His hands rise up on either side to break my hold, but I'm prepared to shove him backward before he has a chance.

  "Stop it!"

  Mila's shaky scream makes us both freeze. One look at her face and my stomach clenches. She's trembling, her eyes wide in a helpless plea.

  The audience we've garnered becomes apparent. Everyone who'd been walking about the hall is now gathering around us to see what's going on.

  I release Andrew, dropping my hands to my sides. Mila shakes her head at us, disgust written all over her face. She glances down and to the right, as though resisting the urge to look around at everyone watching us, then turns on her heels and heads down the hall. The mutters of the crowd follow behind her, and a security guard approaches us.

  Andrew eyes me like he's considering throwing another punch. I wish he'd fucking try. Instead, he looks back at Mila's retreating form, straightens his suit jacket, and takes off after her. I stand there for a moment, fighting the pull to go after her too.

  "What's the problem here?" the guard asks when he reaches me. His tone is confrontational, seeking to escalate an already non-existent situation.

  I don't answer him, too busy rubbing my aching jaw and watching Mila as she disappears around the corner with Andrew close behind.

  "You need to leave," the guard says.

  "I'm going," I say, but I stare at the spot down the hall for a moment longer. A flash of red reappears from around the corner, as if she's standing right out of sight. Andrew's probably got his hands on her now, trying to calm her down, whispering sweet apologies in her ear. The thought makes me want to punch a hole through the wall.

  I slip past the dispersing crowd and push through to the nearest door. The night air lashes my heated face as I exit from the side of the building and walk toward the street. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and check the screen. Grant Kreisler.

  I answer it without slowing my pace.

  "Yeah?"

  "Your ride is here, charming."

  "How'd you know where to find me?"

  "Mila Zelenko is at this gala. Where else would you be?"

  "You got me there," I say. I turn the corner and head to the lot in the back of the building. I scan the line of cars as I approach, but none stand out. "Where are you exactly?"

  "I'm parked by the fountain."

  "There's no parking by the fountain."

  "Then I guess you better hurry."

  I hang up and walk back the way I came, turning the corner to the front of the building. I stop when the fountain comes into view. Just as I expected, a sleek black Maserati is parked in front of it. Grant leans against the side of the car. He's looking around for me and when he spots me, he spreads his arms wide in greeting.

  "Flashy son-of-a-bitch," I say, reaching him.

  Grant clasps my hand and pulls me into a hug.

  "I think what you mean to say is, thank you."

  "Yeah, that's what I meant. Good to see you're back."

  I get into the car and Grant goes around to the driver side. He stops to admire a beautiful brunette walking past in a long, black gown. She turns her head in Grant's direction and a small smile grows on her lips. He stares after her for several seconds before getting into the car.

  "Fuck me," he mutters under his breath. "I'd like to die with my face buried between her thighs."

  He continues to stare as she strolls up the steps of the building. She glances over her shoulder again.

  "Can we go?" I ask him, scratching at my brow.

  He glances at me and seems to resist the urge to say something. Instead, he starts the car and zooms around the fountain and onto the street.

  "When did you get back?" I ask him.

  "This afternoon. Hope you don't mind having company, because I'm having people over this week."

  "It's your place," I remind him.

  "That it is." He taps on the steering wheel for a few seconds. "What happened back there?"

  "What makes you think something happened?"

  "Come on, Cole. I'm pretty sure that's not a hickey growing on your jaw."

  I rub the side of my face again, not that the move makes it any less sore.

  "Everything was under control until your father showed up."

  "My dad's in there? He told me he'd be in Florida this weekend."

  "Well, we know he's a liar."

  "Watch it, man."

  I turn to stare out the window. Even knowing what his father did, Grant's still wrapped around the man's finger. He worships Tobias just like everyone else in this city does.

  "She has a boyfriend," I say.

  "Who?"

  "Who do you think? Mila."

  Grant looks over at me a few more times before responding.

  "I thought Camille said she was single."

  "Yeah, well, she was wrong. Mila's got Andrew hanging all over her."

  "Who?"

  "Andrew Pearson, from Milton prep."

  "Drew Pearson… No shit," he says under his breath. "Isn't he the reason you got kicked out? Shit, you think he's screwing Mila just to get to you? That's some cosmic karma to follow you all the way from high school."

  "I'm glad you find it so amusing."

  "Sorry, man. The guy definitely has a type: women who were in love with you first."

  I set my jaw, tensing at the soreness, and stare out the window. I'm more bothered than I want to admit.

  "Mila went to the exhibit last n
ight. It was a disaster. I should've been there, Grant. I fucked everything up."

  "Hang on. You finished the exhibit?" he asks, glancing at me as he drives. "Holy shit."

  "Yeah. Holy shit."

  "Only took you three years."

  "Well, it took her a minute flat to tear one of the pieces down."

  "I'm guessing that wasn't the reaction you were hoping for."

  "No, it wasn't. She didn't get it."

  I run a hand over my tired face.

  Grant takes advantage of the lack of traffic and speeds down the road. I can't afford to get pulled over, but Grant? He can afford anything.

  "Why weren't you there?" he asks.

  "I wanted to give her space to take it all in. I thought it would all make sense to her when she finished the exhibit. But she didn't. She never went into the last room."

  NINETEEN

  ANDREW

  "MILA, WAIT. JUST HANG on a minute."

  Ignoring me, she picks up her pace toward the sign for the women's restroom. I trail behind her. When she reaches the door, she pushes through and lets it swing shut in my face. But since the door is not, in fact, a force field against men, I push it open again and follow her in.

  "Get out," she snaps, without glancing back.

  I stay at the door, pressing my back against it as I watch her storm toward the mirrors. She sets her clenched fists on either side of the sink and bows her head, agitation coming off her in waves.

  It's not a good feeling, knowing she doesn't want to talk to me. I could go, but I don't want her to be alone. I'd rather be here and have her lash out at me, than have her be out there with the coward. If he's even still out there.

  I remain quiet, allowing her time to pull herself together. Mila shakes her head then lifts her sights to connect with me through the mirror. A storm of emotion twists her beautiful features into someone I barely recognize.