Page 6 of Rush the Edge

“Alright, that’s enough. Did you really just want to tell me about you having a new roommate? Because I don’t care,” I say.

“It’s Daisy.”

I choke on utter fucking denial.

My heart skips a beat.

I grip the steering wheel tightly even though my car is in park and swallow the bitter thought of her. I act unfazed—like I’ve had to do each and every time he’s brought her up—and repeat what he’s just told me. “Daisy is moving to Chicago?”

Please tell me this is a fucking joke.

“Yeah, and I’m helping her out a little until she gets on her feet. Thought it would be a plus having you in the apartment above in case she needs anything and I’m at the hospital, you know?”

No. I do not fucking know.

I can assure you that Daisy Sullivan willnotbe calling on me to help her with anything. It’s been years since I’ve come face to face with her, and I’d bet my life that she remembers our last encounter as well as I do.

Before I can say anything that would deter River from having his sister move into the same apartment complex that we live in, he’s rushing off the phone.

I sit in silence for so long my legs grow numb. Four texts have come and gone, asking if I’m heading out for the night. Part of me would rather go home, pull my laptop out, and look for a new place to live, but the other part of me knows I can’t do that. I still owe Malaki for all the rent he covered when I couldn’t—thanks to my inability to deny certain people.

And deep down, I secretly crave to see her face again, just so I can refresh the hazy image of her inside my head to fuel my loathing for another six years.

She was the girl I was never supposed to look at, let alone touch.

Except, I did, and I haven’t been the same since.

Three

DAISY

“This is fucking absurd, Daisy.”River pokes his head through my pothos plant and stares at me in between its luscious leaves. “This thing belongs in a jungle.”

I gasp dramatically. “I’m impressed that you know these types of plants do thrive in jungle-like atmospheres.”

“I was making a joke,” he mumbles.

I quickly unbuckle my other two plants from their seatbelts—something else River thinks is absurd—and look toward the skyscraper that I now call my new home.

The street isn’t as busy as I thought it would be, given we’re not far from downtown, but even if it was, River said no one ever uses this entrance anyway.

Holding my plants up high so they don’t drag, we enter the elevator, and River presses 30.

The second-to-last floor? Great.

“What’s the top floor?” I ask jokingly. “A penthouse for some fancy millionaire?”

He laughs, but it’s an awkward type of laugh, like he knows something I don’t.

I eye him closely. “If you tell me that Mom and Dad are moving to the 31st floor...” I let my sentence trail because it really wouldn’t surprise me at this point.

“Yeah right,” he laughs. “Dad will never leave his yard. He’s spent most of our lives perfecting the grass.”

I glance at my plant babies.Runs in the family.

The elevator doors open, and I’m greeted with my reflection on the shiny floors. I’ve looked worse, but my strawberry-blonde locks are extra frizzy and wild thanks to the Chicago humidity.

As soon as River opens the door to my new, fully furnished apartment, my jaw falls. Holyshit. This makes my old apartment look like it belongs on a Craigslist ad that reads “rental apartment for someone desperate.”

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