Page 40 of At the Edge with You

He shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Like you said, no one has caught my eye.”

“Jett, come on. You had a very healthy sex life when we were growing up. According to Bea, you know how to strap up like a pro.”

He grimaces. “Why does my great-grandma think it’s okay to talk about my sex life?”

“Probably the same reason they think it’s okay to hope a man of God can’t skate.”

He snorts at my reference to the Prophets, shaking his head. “They’re insane.”

“They are,” I agree, and I notice our pace has slowed a bit, like we don’t want to get back so quickly. “I’m just saying, I’m surprised no one locked you down.”

He cups the back of his neck, looking ahead of us. “Maybe I don’t want to be locked down.” I’m not surprised by his answer, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t bother me. I don’t know why; I’ll be gone in a year, but still. “There had to be someone.”

He shrugs. “One, Nancy. I almost proposed.”

Why does that make my heart ache? “Why didn’t you?”

He looks down at the ground, sighing deeply. “Just didn’t see myself with her for the long-term.”

“Well, that’s ominous.”

He chuckles. “Maybe, but it’s the truth.” He looks over at me. “I heard you just broke up with someone before you came.”

My eyes widen in shock, but then I remember who my grandmother is. “Big-mouth Kitty.”

He chuckles. “They are best friends for a reason. Both with big mouths.” I roll my eyes. “So, tell me what happened?”

I wring my fingers, shrugging. “I’m too much for him.”

He gives me a look. “I call bullshit.”

“I’m serious. When I’m not too much, I’m called a robot.”

He pulls his brows together. “A robot?”

“Yeah, I don’t feel things for anyone, apparently, and guys don’t tend to want me for long.”

“That’s insane. You’re so vibrant.”

His words make my soul shine. “Too vibrant, I guess. Chad, my ex, used my mental diagnoses against me. He’d throw whatever I told him my therapist said to me in my face whenever we’d get into it.”

He blinks a few times before glancing over at me. “What the fuck, Fable?”

“I know. It was toxic, and I realized that I’d wasted a year of my life.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, but he’s the kind of guy that wanted to know all the labels I had.”

Jett looks completely and utterly confused. “Labels?”

I look away, swallowing hard. “Yeah, I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was thirty-six, and she keeps adding disorders every six months or so.” I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “She diagnosed me with impostor syndrome, and he rubbed my nose in it.”

“The fuck?” he mutters, and it’s easy to see he’s pissed. “Impostor syndrome… Or is it childhood trauma from your fucked-up parents?”

“You’re not wrong.”

He scoffs. “I mean, I get the ADHD, but even then, fuck labels.”

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