Page 1 of Edge of Heaven (Crimson Edge #2)

Taryn

Six months ago

“We’re done, Callum.” I throw the last of my toiletries into my carry-on bag and turn to my boyfriend, watching the play of emotions on his face.

He’s not a touchy-feely kind of guy, which is one of many reasons this isn’t working out, but I see something that almost resembles hurt in his eyes.

Geez.

He’s such a jerk ninety percent of the time—why does he have to pick now to show a softer side? I’ve been working up the nerve to leave for weeks.

“You meet someone else?” he asks finally.

I roll my eyes.

“No. When would I have time to meet anyone? You barely give me time to breathe, much less meet other guys.”

He frowns. “I thought you liked spending time with me.”

“I did,” I say, brushing past him so I can slip my shoes on. “But you’ve gotten overbearing, demanding, and if we’re being honest…you’re not nice to me anymore. Why would I stay with a guy who isn’t nice to me?”

He follows me, coming to stand a few inches away. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve complained before, you’ve apologized before, and things change for a day or two before you go back to how you are.

And it’s okay,” I add hurriedly, hoping to keep him from getting mad.

Angry Callum is a pain in the ass, and I have a plane to catch, so I don’t want this to get long and drawn out.

“You’re really leaving?”

“I need to see Toby,” I say, pulling my two suitcases to the door.

“It’s been too long and he’s starting a new treatment next week.

” Toby is my eight-year-old son. He lives with my mother in Los Angeles, and it’s been a month since I’ve seen him, which is too long.

Callum kept making excuses about why I couldn’t leave him, but I’m over it.

“ That’s what this is about?” He shakes his head. “So go. Spend time with your kid and then meet me in New York.” His band, Karnal Death, is filming a music video there in a few weeks.

“No.” I say it gently. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t do it anymore. We’re either fighting or fucking, and while the latter is fun, the former is tiresome. I don’t want to be in a relationship where we fight every single day.”

“You know I’m rough around the edges, baby.” He reaches for me. “But?—”

“Just stop. Please?” I move out of his reach and square my shoulders resolutely. “Last night you literally told me you were going to fuck the model in your next video. What does that tell me about how you feel about me?”

“I didn’t mean it literally. You know how I can get when I’m in a mood.”

“I do. And I don’t like it. That’s part of why I’m leaving.”

“What if you took a few weeks to think about it,” he suggests. “And then I can come to L.A., meet Toby, and we can talk things out?”

“You’ve never wanted to meet him before,” I point out.

“We weren’t serious before.”

“We’re not serious now .” I feel a headache coming on and realize I have to leave—he can and will talk me out of this, and I’ve made up my mind this time.

I have to walk away from this pattern of verbal and emotional abuse.

He’s no good for me, and maybe I’m not good for him either.

“You deserve someone who’ll make you happy,” I whisper, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “And I deserve someone who won’t yell at me every day. There are women who are into that—who’ll give as good as they get. That’s just not me. Take care of yourself, Callum.”

Before he can say anything else, I open the door and push my three bags into the hallway. Two large suitcases and my carry-on are going to be impossible to get downstairs alone, but I can’t wait for the bellhop.

“Hey, Taryn.” Dusty Rhimes, the bassist for Callum’s band, is coming out of his room just as the door closes behind me.

“Hey.” I manage a shaky smile.

“Need some help?”

“Thank you, yes.”

We walk to the elevator in silence.

“You’re leaving for good?” he asks once we’re inside.

“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s time.”

“Good for you.”

Dusty’s the only guy in the band I like. The others are all jerks—much like Callum. Dusty is no angel, but he’s always been nice to me, and I don’t see him abusing the crew or groupies like the other guys do either.

My phone rings just as we step out of the elevator.

“Thanks, Dusty,” I say as I answer. “Hi, Mom.”

“Taryn!” She sounds out of breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“The treatment,” she says. “The funding fell through.”

My heart sinks.

Toby has leukemia, and the standard treatments haven’t been working for him. There’s a new experimental clinical trial going on, and I managed to get him in, but insurance won’t pay for it. We thought we found funding, but now…

“What can we do?” I ask quickly. “What do they say?”

“I spoke to the woman in billing. She says he can join the trial, but it’s more than ten grand a month. Cash , Taryn.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush, and I stumble to the nearest chair. “Oh shit.”

“I don’t have it,” she says. “I can pay for this month, but after that, I don’t know what we’ll do, and for the treatment to work, they’re saying he needs a year.”

A year .

That’s more than a hundred grand.

I have a little over fifteen thousand in the bank.

But no jobs scheduled, no way to make more short-term.

As a model, I do okay, but I’m no Kendall Jenner or Cheyenne.

And that’s one of many things Callum and I fought about—me leaving to find work. He always whined and complained until I just gave in.

Now I want to kick myself.

“I have about fifteen,” I tell my mother. “That buys us another two months or so. By then, I’ll hopefully find work.”

“They’re going to make me sign a document agreeing to pay them. If we fall short one month, they can take the house, Taryn. And that’s all we have.”

I groan and close my eyes.

This can’t be happening.

My mother is a teacher, so her salary isn’t that much. She owns the house she lives in now because my dad died and left her some life insurance. Otherwise, she never would have been able to afford to buy a house in a decent part of Los Angeles.

I help because she’s raising my son, but I haven’t worked in months, and my bank account is dwindling quickly. Callum keeps a roof over my head and feeds me, but he never gives me spending money or anything.

“I’m going to figure this out,” I promise. “Okay? I don’t know how, but I’ll find work. I’ll get a job waiting tables or whatever it takes. Just get him into the program. I won’t let them take your house.”

“Are you sure, honey?” Mom sounds terrified.

I am too.

“What’s the alternative?” I whisper, my voice breaking. “We can’t let him die!”

Mom starts to cry, and tears fill my eyes too.

Fuck-fuck-fuck.

I don’t know what to do and don’t have anyone to turn to.

“I’ll be home tonight,” I tell her. “And we’ll figure this out. I’ll find a way to make the money—I promise. No matter what I have to do.”

“I have to sign the papers today or they’ll give his spot to someone else.”

“Do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mom!” My voice rises a little. “I’m not going to let my son die, so sign the fucking papers and I’ll figure it out.”

I hear her sigh, but she knows I’m not upset with her.

I’ll do anything to help Toby get better.

I had him when I was sixteen, and his father—my high school boyfriend—went and got himself killed in a car accident when I was four months pregnant. So Mom took custody because I had no way to take care of him—and my parents felt strongly about me having a backup plan.

I had to finish high school.

Go to college.

In addition to starting my modeling career.

It’s just been harder than I anticipated.

Then Dad died.

And when Toby got sick, we didn’t think about the financial aspect because Mom has great insurance through the school.

This is different, though.

A clinical trial on an experimental treatment that’s had astounding results.

So I’ll sell my soul to the devil to make sure Toby gets it.

I swipe at my tears as I disconnect, digging in my purse for a tissue.

“Taryn?” I know the voice and though I want to walk away, I’m too upset to fight with him right now.

“Callum, I can’t…” My voice breaks, and I start to sob.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He sits next to me and wraps one of his big arms around me. He’s six feet five inches and built solidly, so it’s easy to feel safe in his arms, even though I should know better.

I sniffle. “It’s Toby.”

“Is he sick again?”

“The insurance won’t cover the clinical trial…” I spill out the story. “I don’t know what to do, but I have to go. I have to get work so I can pay for it. I don’t want Mom to lose the house…” I’m babbling through my tears and finally he gives me a little shake.

“Hey. Stop crying. It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I do.” He forces me to look at him. “I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No. I just broke up with you!”

“Come back to me, baby.” His voice is soft, cajoling…tender. “I love you, Taryn. Let me take care of this for you and prove to you I can be better.”

I should know better.

I really should.

But I’m desperate.

And he’s throwing me a lifeline.

“We’re talking about my son’s life,” I whisper. “You can’t wake up one day in a bad mood and decide you’re not going to make the payment or some shit.” I give him as hard of a glare as I can muster up in my current emotional state.

“I won’t,” he promises. “You’ll see. Things will be good if you give me another chance. Let me handle this and then go spend some time with your son. Then meet me in New York in three weeks.”

I should say no.

But I don’t because…I can’t .

Because I’m scared.

Because I don’t have anyone else.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Good girl.” He hugs me and then tugs me to my feet. “Come on. Let’s get you to the airport.”

He’s being so nice I’m almost convinced he means everything he’s saying.

Maybe leaving him was the wake-up call he needed to realize he doesn’t want to lose me.

Maybe things are going to be okay after all.

Or maybe not.

I catch the look of surprise on Dusty’s face as we breeze past him in the lobby.

Toby needs me, and I’ll do whatever it takes so he has the best chance possible of beating the leukemia.

I’m doing this for him.

It’s only a year.

And if Callum goes back to being a jerk, the day the treatments are over, I’m out of here.