Page 105 of Living on the Edge

I’m surprised but nod. “I’d like that. Maybe New York?”

He nods and pulls me in for a hug, something he hasn’t done in years. Meanwhile, my father’s busy on his phone, basically ignoring me.

“I want to come to another show too,” Alden says. “Now that you don’t have to be ashamed of me.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not ashamed of you, buddy. The timing was just off.”

“If you don’t invite me, you know I’ll show up anyway.”

I laugh. “Any time, kid. Any time.”

There are a few more handshakes and hugs, all while my mother watches with evident displeasure, and I say my goodbyes.

Luckily, I don’t have to deal with most of them after today.

* * *

Ryleigh’squiet on the flight, tapping away on her laptop.

I peek over at what she’s writing a few times, and notice my name, Crimson Edge, Jonny Gold… but just a few partial sentences that don’t tell me much. And honestly, I don’t want to read it until she’s finished. I know I’d be self-conscious if she started peeking at songs I’m in the middle of. Sometimes they’re nothing more than broken sentences or groups of words that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else until I make them into something presentable.

She might have a similar process so I leave her to it.

“You okay, babe?” I ask when we land and start gathering our things. “Was it overwhelming?”

She’s quiet for a minute.

“Yeah, it kind of was. But I’m glad I got to attend, meet your family, and get a feel for where you came from.”

“Was it disappointing?”

She hesitates thoughtfully. “Yes, but not anything to do with you. Just how your father treated you, and how cold your mother is. I would kill for my mom to hug me one more time.”

“I would kill for my mother to willingly hug me—for the first time.”

Our eyes meet, and I see a wariness in hers I’ve never seen before.

“You miss your mom, don’t you?” I ask gently.

She nods. “I miss my dad too, even though he wasn’t around much. But he did have a presence in my life, and at least he liked me, told me he loved me. It hurt me to see the way your family treated you.”

I smile. “Now you understand better why I’ve distanced myself from them.”

“I do.” She’s staring at me so intently it almost makes me uncomfortable.

“Something’s wrong,” I say finally. “Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“I will, but it’s very, very complicated,” she admits. “And it’s not the kind of thing I want to talk about where someone might overhear us.”

I frown. “Are you going to dump me?”

Her eyes widen and she slowly shakes her head. “I think there’s a better chance it’s going to be the other way around.”

“Why?” I ask, suddenly on edge. “What did you do?”

“Like I said—it’s something private and complicated—definitely not a topic to discuss here in a cab. But once we’re alone, either at the hotel or the arena, I’ll tell you everything.”

“This is about the article you’re writing.”

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