Page 118 of Living on the Edge

My friend Josie begs me not to be too rash in making decisions when I’m in such a vulnerable emotional state, but I don’t have it in me to drag this out. Or to fight.

I have nothing left to fight for.

An offer letter arrived fromRock Harder Magazinevia email a few days ago, and I penned a short, succinct missive explaining that the values of the publication don’t align with mine and respectfully decline. Then I made a short, vague video on Rockin’ with Ryleigh, telling my followers that after careful consideration, I’ve decided not to continue the channel. I thanked everyone who supported me and promised to update everyone if and when I had anything to say.

I deleted all my social media accounts and then allowed myself to fall back into anonymity.

I don’t know what happened with the Hollingsworth family or what kind of backlash there was—I can’t bring myself to care.

I feel so empty inside it’s almost like not being alive.

It’s hard to explain this numbness or wrap my head around the idea that I will never see Angus again. Or Kirsten. Or Lexi.

Poor Lexi.

She did her best to help me the day the story broke, to be there for me, to shield me from the chaos. But after I talked to Angus and realized he didn’t believe me—didn’t believeinme—that was when I knew that there was nothing to fight for. I’d left the hotel and the tour without looking back.

I bought myself a first-class ticket home to Minneapolis and then expensed it toRock Harder. To my surprise, the money hit my account two days later, but that was the only contact I had with them other than the offer letter. Rich tried calling me a few times after I declined, but I didn’t answer and eventually blocked him.

Now I work long hours at a restaurant and bar that stays busy.

The food is good, families come in to eat during the day and at the dinner rush, and then the bar gets busy after eight. As the assistant manager, I get the shitty shifts, closing on Friday and Saturday nights and then handling the brunch rush on Sundays, but that’s okay. I’m usually off on Mondays and Tuesdays, and I use that time to do laundry, go to yoga, and volunteer at a local nursing home.

Most days, no one recognizes me, and no one talks about Angus Jeffries or August Hollingsworth.

Taryn keeps in touch but it’s hard to talk to her because she’s still with Callum, and I know he had something to do with what happened. I can’t prove it, and I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to figure it out, but it still hurts.

Kirsten reached out once but after apologizing and explaining that someone altered my story after I turned it in, I told her it was better if we didn’t talk since it was obviously a huge conflict of interest. She was gracious and kind, which made me cry, but at the end of the day they’re all better off without me—and I’m definitely better off without any of them.

Well, I’m safer without them.

My life is peaceful and calm without them.

No one is lying to me or trying to manipulate or guilt me into doing things I don’t want to do.

I make enough money to pay the bills.

And I finally have health insurance.

The restaurant where I work, Sapphire Toad’s Bar & Grill, keeps me too busy to worry about the past when I’m there. The waitstaff and bartenders are fun, my fellow managers are a good group, and the customers are mostly regulars. On nights when we finish early, sometimes I join the staff for a few drinks or to watch whatever sports game is on TV. Once in a while, some of us go drinking or dancing at other bars, but mostly, I keep to myself.

It’s just easier.

Josie came in tonight with her boyfriend Jake, and she comes into my office in the back, where I’m working on the following week’s schedule.

“Hey.” She stands in the doorway watching me.

“Hi.” I look up. “What’s up?”

“Why are you hiding back here?”

“I’m not. It’s slow for a Thursday, and I’m trying to do the schedule. I have twenty requests for shift changes.”

“It’s been two months, Ry. When are you going to stop pretending nothing happened and deal with it?”

“Something happened,” I say with a shrug, “but I’ve already dealt with it. I took a week to mourn my relationship with Angus, and decided I don’t want to be involved in the chaos of the music business. I got a new job, thanks to you, and now I’m living a new life.”

“You’re not living. You’re existing. You know damn well you don’t want to work here for the rest of your life.”

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