Page 90 of On the Edge

I know that my relationship with Nate hasn’t compromised my ability to do my job, and I think TJ knows it too. But I signed a contract, and there’s nothing either of us can do to change that after the fact.

“I need to clean out my office,” I tell him. “But I’d rather not do it with an audience. Can you work with HR to see if I can come back later tonight and get my personal belongings?”

I think of how much my office has been like a home to me while I’ve worked here. My degrees hanging on the wall, my photos, the plants Sierra has helped keep alive while I’ve traveled, the spectacular view of the mountains. I’ll need several boxes and more than a few tears falling to pack it all up.

“Sure, I’ll let you know what they say.”

I give him one last squeeze and step back. “Thanks, TJ, for everything. I’m sorry that I messed things up so badly.”

I take two more steps backward out the door, then speed walk out of that building as quickly as I can. I’m almost to my car when my phone rings, and I glance at the screen. The name of Ms. Juarez’s nursing home flashes there and my stomach drops. She never calls me, she only knows how to FaceTime me from her iPad. Which means it’s the staff calling, and I sincerely hope it’s not bad news. I can’t take any more of that right now.

“Hey, Jackson, it’s Patty,” my favorite nurse says with her thick southern drawl. It’s no wonder Ms. Juarez likes her the best, too—shared southern roots and all that.

“Hi. Is everything okay?” I glance at my watch. It’s just past 7:00 a.m., not a normal time for a phone call unless something’s wrong.

“No, it’s not. Jackson, I’m so sorry. She passed away overnight.” Her words hit me right as I’m opening my car door, and I manage to slide myself into the driver’s seat so I don’t collapse right on the pavement. “She went to sleep last night and just didn’t wake up this morning. She passed peacefully, which is a blessing.”

There is no blessing in her life ending, I want to scream. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” My voice cracks on the word. “I got back late last night and I was going to come visit her today.” Tears stream down my face and there’s no point in even trying to wipe them away.

“She knew you loved her very much,” Patty tells me.

But did she? Did I ever tell her? I can’t hold in the sob, it’s like my heart is breaking right in half and the sound just tears out of the gaping hole.

“She left some stuff for you,” Patty says.

“She ... what now?”

“I think she knew her time was near,” Patty says, but how could that be? I’d just talked to her three days ago and she was as vibrant and ornery as ever. “Everything was in order. She even had an envelope sitting on her nightstand addressed to you.”

“I’m sorry,” I say when Patty quietly waits for me to respond. “I’m having a hard time processing this. I just talked to her the other day and she was fine.”

“I know she was, which is why it’s good that she was able to leave this life peacefully, without pain or prolonged suffering. Do you want to stop by and pick up her belongings?”

“Pick up her belongings?” I stutter. Nothing makes sense.

“Yes, she had you listed as her next of kin. And they haven’t taken her body away yet. I thought you might want to come down and say goodbye.”

Suddenly I’m on fire. I peel off my jacket, but my skin is burning up and I can’t breathe. My heart is beating erratically, and every beat is painful.

“Okay,” I squeak out. “I’ll be right over.”

I disconnect the call, throw my phone on the seat next to me, push my seat back as far as it will go, and tuck my head between my legs. I’m not sure that’ll really help, but I’m also not thinking clearly in this moment. I just know that I’ve lost my job and one of the most important people in my life—maybe even two now that Nate is gone again—in the last ten minutes. And it’s just too much.

I don’t know how long I stay there before the knock on my window has my head flying up in surprise. Sierra’s on the other side of the glass, her features arranged into a look of concern.

I roll down the window as I use the sleeve of my fleece to wipe off my face.

“They fired you?” she asks.

“No, I resigned. But that’s not what this is,” I say, gesturing to my tearstained face. “I just got a call from the nursing home. Ms. Juarez ...” I can’t quite get the words out, and instead a sob escapes. It’s a guttural cry, the kind you have no control over.

“Oh, no,” Sierra whispers as she reaches through the window and squeezes my shoulder. “What can I do?”

“Nothing,” I tell her. “I have to go over there. She had me listed as her closest relative, so ... I don’t even know what that means.”

“Okay, I’m going to put in for a personal day and I’ll go with you. Give me five minutes to get to my office and grab a few things. I’ll be right back.”

“Sierra, you don’t have to do this.”

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