Page 130 of Living on the Edge

“I can. I will.”

“But… no!” She bursts into tears and my arms close around her, pulling her to my chest.

“I’d give up everything for you,” I whisper against her hair. “Without you, my life is meaningless. As much as I love the band, the music, and everything we’re doing—it doesn’t mean anything unless you’re here to share it with me.”

“I don’t understand,” she sniffs.

“What’s to understand? I’m in love with you.”

She shivers against me, her face still buried tightly against my chest.

“Ryleigh?” I pull away just enough to lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Do you still love me?”

“I do.” She blinks through her tears.

“Tell me what it’ll take to make you trust me again.”

“Lexi said you’ve been in therapy.”

I nod. “There’s been a lot to unpack… my upbringing, the fucked-up relationship with my mom and the man I thought was my dad, how to move forward with my uncle, who’s actually my dad, my betrayal of the band—and more recently, what happened between us.”

“You’ve talked to your therapist about…me?” She looks surprised.

“A lot,” I admit. “And if you want to start couples counseling, we can do that.”

“I do,” she says quickly. “I’d like that. I probably have some shit of my own to unpack.”

“I got you a ring,” I say slowly. “Right before everything blew up.”

She looks confused. “A ring? Like, an engagement ring?”

“Yup. I didn’t buy it—it’s the ring my grandmother gave Alex to give to the woman he would eventually marry. He’s decided he’s never going to get married, so he gave it to me to give to you.”

“You were going to propose?”

“I was going to give you a promise ring—because it’s not a diamond and I wasn’t sure whether or not an emerald would be your stone of choice. And work up to the proposal.”

“I love emeralds,” she whispers. “It’s my favorite stone.”

“It reminds me of your eyes.”

We’re quiet for a few beats.

“Tell me what you want from me,” I say finally. “I’ll leave the band, if that’s what it takes, but I need to finish this tour.”

She’s already shaking her head. “No. Stop. Jesus. Crimson Edge—and being a musician—that’s who you are. How could I love you if I asked you to give that up? That’s not how love works. Not to me, anyway. But therapy is mandatory, both individually and together.”’

“I’m already doing it individually, and we can find someone for us to see together. What else?”

“There isn’t anything else,” she says after a moment. “This isn’t a business deal, Angus—this is our life. Our relationship. Ourlove. It’s not a negotiation. We just have to want to be together, with the promise to have each other’s backs, no matter what. That’s what’s most important to me. That, and being faithful.”

“I swear to you, I will always have your back. And being faithful—I can’t even look at other women. You’re all I see, all I want, all that matters. My dick probably wouldn’t even get hard for someone else.”

“I love you, Angus.”

I crush my mouth to hers.

A moment later someone clears their throat.

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