Edge of Chaos (Love on the Edge #1)

by Molly E. Lee

  Edge of Chaos

  Copyright © 2016 by Molly E. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Visit my website at www.mollyelee.com

  Cover Designer:

  Regina Wamba at Mae I Design

  Editing:

  Karen Grove

  Second Editor:

  Nichole Strauss with Perfectly Publishable

  Interior Design and Formatting:

  Christine Borgford with Perfectly Publishable

  ISBN# eBook:

  978–0-9973464–0-4

  ISBN# Paperback:

  978–0-9973464–1-1

  Table of Contents

  Edge of Chaos

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For Daren. The moment I met you I finally started living.

  A STORM BREWED in Justin’s eyes, a ferocity that threatened to shatter everything in my life. He leaned against the wall near the small kitchen with his long arms crossed over his chest, staring at the threadbare carpet like he wanted to set it on fire.

  Damn it. I’d been gone two minutes. What could’ve happened in the time it took me to check out the closet in the master bedroom to piss him off?

  I paused in the hallway and tested the atmosphere. I knew everything about Justin, had every look memorized. His ultra-short black buzzed hair, brown eyes, and trimmed goatee usually conveyed a mysterious charm, but when he shaped his face the way he was now, I knew we were only minutes from a blowup. He probably would’ve already erupted—what about, I still didn’t understand—if the apartment leasing agent wasn’t standing a few feet away in the kitchen pretending to go through paperwork.

  I sighed and racked my brain. He’d been quiet on the drive out here, sure, but nothing indicated he was angry. Only two months until my freshman year of college and this apartment was one of the most popular among Tulsa students. We jumped at the opportunity to snag a place so near campus—well, I jumped, Justin kind of strolled.

  Two things in my life were certain.

  One, I would attend the University of Tulsa. My mother had attended, and all my friends had been accepted and were picking out dorm rooms or apartments, too. I hadn’t even applied anywhere else because it just wasn’t an option.

  And two, Justin.

  We’d met when I was ten and he was thirteen during a neighborhood kickball game. He was my first everything. First childhood boyfriend. First real date. First long-term boyfriend. First lover.

  “Will you put the deposit down today?” The leasing agent, a blonde woman in a black skirt and blue blouse, asked, and grounded me to the present.

  My eyes shot to Justin. He was a statue except for his clenching jaw. My heart plummeted into my stomach, stirring up the two Dunkin Donuts I’d eaten for breakfast.

  I swallowed. “Could we have a minute to talk, please?”

  “Of course.” The agent walked toward the front door. “I’ll just leave this folder here for you. It includes the floor plan, estimated water and electric, and the rent is listed at the bottom.”

  “Thank you,” I said as she shut the front door.

  The tension in the air mounted. I was so familiar with the sensation. A rough texture, like choking down a Brillo pad. A signature Justin blowup would occur in the next five minutes—he merely waited for me to initiate it, as was his pattern. After years of these, I’d almost rather eat the Brillo pad.

  Oh well, fuck it.

  “What’s up, Justin?” I decided to mirror him and took up my own firm lean against the opposite wall, but opted to put my hands on my hips as opposed to crossing them over my chest.

  He finally looked at me, the fuse lit. His brown eyes were sharp enough to cut me as he shrugged, the motion rippling the muscles in his arms.

  My heart rate kicked up. A silent start was way worse than an instant outburst.

  “Seriously, what is it?” I kept my voice even, not wanting to fan the flames.

  He clenched his jaw again, and I almost lost it. I’d been tiring of these blowups for a while now, but I assumed once we lived together they would stop. He’d be happier.

  Justin uncrossed his arms and took two strides to the kitchen, flipping open the folder the leasing agent had left on the counter. He scanned the papers and shook his head before meeting my gaze again.

  “This is ridiculous,” he said.

  “What is? The rent? It’s very reasonable considering how close it is to campus, and you know it’ll be good for me to be able to walk to class.”

  “Me, me, me,” he said, mocking my voice. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Blake?”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but the air caught in my lungs. He had a stack of job applications in my car. We’d picked them up while waiting for the apartment office to open. There were over ten mechanic positions available in town, and two of the managers had even said they were interested in seeing what he could do.

  “I thought . . .” He’d been excited about the prospect of getting our own place. Finally living together after all these years. He’d said he was looking forward to the move, a fresh start.

  “Yeah, you thought. Why’d you have to pick a college that is so far away, huh? Why should I have to leave my friends because you suck at picking schools?”

  “Are you serious? It’s only two hours away! It’s not like I’m asking you to move to Canada.” I rolled my eyes.

  Huge mistake.

  Justin slammed his fist against the countertop, making me jump.

  Tears formed behind my eyes, but I didn’t let them drop. I’d seen him more pissed off than this—at least he wasn’t drunk. Something would’ve already been broken if he was.

  He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’ve got a good job back home. There is no point in me moving here.”

  A knife slipped into my chest, his words searing.

  He absolutely hated his job. Complained about it on almost an hourly basis—called it mindless factory work. “I thought your dream was to work on cars? There is plenty of opportunity for that here.”

  He walked across the living room, and his six-foot-three frame towered over me. “I will do that, someday. But never here.”

  I looked up, searching for the man I thought he was, the man I knew he could be if he wanted to. He didn’t reach out to me even though he stood only inches away.

  “I’ve always wanted to go to school he
re. You’ve known that since you met me.”

  “Well, I’m not moving here.”

  “Are you scared of the change? Because that’s understandable. We’ve lived in the same town our entire lives, but this will be an experience for both of us.” I tried to touch him, but he flinched away, branding me with a menacing look that made me regret asking.

  “I don’t know why I let this idea go on this long. I’m not moving. End of story.”

  “You’re making me choose between my future and you?”

  “Your future? You don’t even know what you want to do with your life. You honestly think you’re ready to be on your own? You can’t even pick a major!”

  “I don’t have to decide right this second,” I said. “There’s time to explore.”

  Justin rolled his eyes. “You don’t have a clue what it’s like out in the real world. When I was sixteen I was already supporting myself.” He said it like he had decades-worth of experience over me.

  Tears finally trailed down my cheeks, the pressure of the world building around me like a supercell.

  “Please don’t do this. Don’t make me choose.”

  “Are you really going to throw away our relationship for a bullshit school? Abandon me the same way everyone else has?”

  “I . . .” The words stuck in my throat, my heart breaking at his mention of abandonment. The word triggered a memory, one I’d tried to bury but never really could.

  “You’re an incompetent bitch!” my father screamed at my mother from the dining room. Five seconds later came the shatter of glass. It sounded like Dad had knocked a serving dish off the dining room table.

  We’d only made it halfway through dinner before I’d lost my appetite and bolted to my room.

  “You’re a selfish bastard!” my mom shouted back.

  Grabbing the phone, I called Justin in a panic.

  “Justin, can you come get me please?” I’d asked when he’d answered the phone at his aunt and uncle’s. Having a sixteen-year-old boyfriend when I was only thirteen made my parents crazy, but the fact that he could drive was a sweet perk at times like this.

  “Blake, I—I’m not sure if tonight is a good idea,” he said.

  “Please? I’m losing it over here. If I hear one more dish break, I’m going to slam my head into a wall,” I said, shutting my bedroom door to prevent him from hearing the fight going on just outside it.

  He sighed, his hesitance evident in the weight of it.

  “You don’t give a damn about either of us!” My mother’s muffled yell came through my closed door.

  A part-groan-part-cry ripped from my throat.

  “Just hold on, Blake. I’m coming,” Justin said and hung up.

  I tossed the cordless phone on my bed and wiped the tears from my face, counting the seconds until he arrived. I met him in the driveway, not giving my parents the chance to see him, not that they even bothered to look.

  He wrapped his arms around me. He smelled like leather and spice, and instantly his nearness lifted the boulder on my chest. He glanced down at me, smiling. “How about a movie?”

  I nodded, conveying my thanks with a quick peck.

  Two hours in a darkened theater had helped clear my head, but when we got back to his truck, I dreaded going home.

  “Let’s go back to my place. I can always take you home later.” Justin started the truck.

  “Thank you,” I said, not giving a damn about curfew.

  It was a short drive from the theater to where he lived with his aunt and uncle. His mother had dropped him off there when he was six and never returned. They’d taken him in, but lately they’d been riding him pretty hard. Always on his case about breaking curfew or his slipping grades. Justin never had seen the value in school.

  I tilted my head the second we pulled into his driveway. “What is that about?” I asked, eyeing the pile of boxes on the porch. I returned my focus to Justin, who killed the ignition. Even in the dark I could see his face crumple and his Adam’s apple bob up and down slowly. A muscle in his jaw ticked, and if it had been brighter in the cab of the truck, I would’ve seen moisture hit his eyes.

  “No fucking way,” he said and jerked the truck door open, stomping to the front door.

  He kicked a pile of boxes out of the way and shoved his key in the front door’s lock. The porch light illuminated his shock when he’d turned it three times and it didn’t work.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, gently touching his forearm.

  He didn’t answer, instead he pounded on the door.

  I held my breath as I heard the lock click and then watched the door slowly open. His uncle stood with his arms crossed in a pair of blue flannel pajamas and his aunt sat on the stairs behind him, her hair disheveled and her eyes red. Normally this is where I’d make small talk, but the lump in my throat didn’t allow for it.

  “Uncle Kyle?” I’d never heard Justin’s voice so shattered, so vulnerable.

  His uncle shook his head. “We told you, Justin. You had one last chance. You break our rules one more time and you’re done. And you had one thing to do tonight. One. To stay here and prove to us that you were capable of being part of this family.”

  Justin took a step back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  The look in his eyes, complete and utter hurt, forced me into action. “Mr. Hobbs, it was my fault. I called him in a panic tonight. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”

  “He did,” his uncle cut me off, his tone sharp. “He’s known for months now that we weren’t going to stand for this much longer.”

  I swallowed hard. I knew Justin had stayed with his friends on occasion for the entire weekend without checking in, even got caught drinking a few times, but what teenager hadn’t? I never thought they would kick him out over it. I looked down, surveying the boxes. Some of them weren’t even taped up. His clothes were wadded and tossed in there like they’d been packed in a hurry. “It was my fault,” I said again.

  His aunt sighed from the stairs but remained silent.

  “No, Blake. It wasn’t. Justin knew the consequences of his actions tonight. He has disrespected us for the last time.” He fixed his gaze on Justin. “You hear me, boy? You’ve been so ungrateful after everything we’ve done for you, and I’ve had it. Take your stuff and get out of here.”

  Justin’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he managed to get any words out. “Where am I supposed to go?”

  My chest tightened. They were the only family he had left.

  “Why don’t you go to one of those deadbeat friends of yours? The ones who are so much more important to you than us.” His uncle shut the door.

  The sound the lock made could’ve had a microphone next to it. The click was so final.

  Justin turned and sank to the porch, his head in his hands. I sat next to him, squeezed between his tall, lanky frame and a stack of boxes. After several agonizingly long minutes with nothing but our breath coming out in cold huffs, he looked at me.

  Lost and broken. That was the only way I could describe his eyes.

  “I’ll make my parents let you stay with us. This was all my fault,” I’d said and placed my hand on his back.

  He’d shook his head, the weight on his shoulders sinking them lower around his frame. “No. I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  Justin’s fist came down on the kitchen counter again, the sound snapping me to the present.

  “How selfish can you be, Blake?” He glared at me. The look was so different from the broken eyes I’d seen that day five years ago. And though my heart shattered all over again for the boy who had lost everyone in his life, my anger over the word selfish burned my sympathy to ash.

  Instinctively my mind conjured up scenarios in which I too had sacrificed things for him over the years. Like the time I’d used the money I’d saved for a down payment on a newer car to bail him out of jail because he’d neglected to pay three speeding tickets. How I never forgot his birthday and had to continuously
remind him of mine. Or the fact that for years I had tried my hardest to patch things between him and his family, and when that didn’t work, I’d done everything in my power to make him happy every day since.

  “If you feel that way about me, maybe we really shouldn’t be together,” I said, my voice cracking.

  Justin’s eyes went from slits to as wide as saucers. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly. He looked me up and down. There he was, the broken boy. And again, I was the cause for his pain. Guilt clenched my stomach, but the battle between us seemed never ending.

  “You want to break up?” he asked, his voice softer.

  “I want us to make a new life here.” I sighed. A life without the constant, exhausting fighting and making up we did.

  “You want to leave me over this?” Justin was back to practically growling. “You can’t leave me. You’re all I’ve got. I can’t live without you.”

  “You’re not even willing to move two hours away for me. You obviously could live without me, Justin.” I pinched the bridge of my nose to stop the tears. I’d been contemplating this for a while now. We’d been clashing more and more, the once easy camaraderie we had when we were kids faded with each passing day.

  I heard a small click of metal and returned my gaze to him. My heart stopped as if I’d fallen through a frozen lake.

  He had the tip of his pocket knife pressed against the soft part of his wrist.

  “What are you doing?” My stomach plummeted like the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.

  His eyes were wild as they locked on mine. “Live without you?” he screamed. “I won’t live without you, Blake. Won’t!” He glanced down at the knife and flexed the hand holding it. He hissed as the blade nicked his skin and blood slowly welled from the cut.

  “Stop it!” I yelled, rushing to him. I gently grasped his forearm and tugged away his hand. I held my thumb over the wound, his blood warm and slick against it. I used the end of my shirt to wipe the blood away, thankful the cut wasn’t deep. Cold fingers clutched my spine and icy pinpricks made my skin tighten.

  “You see what you do to me?” He yanked his wrist away and held it to his chest. “You can’t leave me, Blake. I’ll die without you.”