Page 55 of Rush the Edge

Grinding my jaw back and forth, I focus on the coffee table that my legs are propped on so I don't stare at her. If I had my phone, I’d text her brother right now and tell him about the incident, but it’s upstairs in my own apartment.

Rushing to Daisy’s aid without it gives me a great excuse to ignore the unwanted texts anyway.

Did I even shut the door after I ran after her?

I grunt quietly.

Probably not.

It doesn’t matter, though.

Material things are replaceable.

She isn’t.

I’d know, since I’ve tried replacing her since the moment I left.

I zero in on the notebook near my foot.

My eyebrow rises with mischief.

I move as discreetly as possible while sliding the notebook closer to the edge of the coffee table. Once it’s hanging off the edge, I reach forward and grab a hold of it.

Daisy sighs softly, her warm breath brushing against my bare chest. I freeze until she slips into her slumber again.

With slow and steady fingers, I flip through the pages and snoop.

It’s like high school all over again when River and I would sneak into her room to read her diary.

I found out things I wish I hadn’t from that little polka-dot diary. It caused my first fist fight outside of the rink.

Collin Hennings.Little fucker.

The first thing I read in her new diary isTracker.

Tracker? What is she keeping track of? All the ways she can irritate me?

I glance at Daisy to make sure she’s still asleep before pulling the notebook closer to get a better look.

There are several symptoms listed with dates.

Fatigue, achy, loss of appetite, nausea.

What the hell is this?

I close the notebook and push it off to the side. My chest is tight with worry, and I’m agitated that I'm out of the loop. Maybe if I hadn’t avoided home for the last several years or dismissed any talk about Daisy from River or their parents, I’d know what’s going on.

A rough swallow moves down my throat while I drag my eyes over Daisy’s delicate jawline. Her cute, button-like nose is the same from before, and those parted lips are a perfect shade of pink that I haven’t let myself visualize in so long.

She was beautiful when we were teens, but her features are more defined now…just like these curves. I bet she catches the eye of every man from here to New York and back.

I grab her phone from the couch cushion and enter her password.

I scowl when I realize she’s changed it. It only takes me a few attempts to get it right, because I know her better than she thinks.

I snap a photo of the page in her notebook, careful not to get her body draped over mine in the frame, and send it off to her brother.

It’s Kane. Want to tell me what the fuck this is and why I found your sister mid-faint a little bit ago?

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