Page 164 of On Edge

I want him, and his monster.

“Troy.”

But he shushes me softly and strokes my hair in soft, soothing motions.

“Sleep,” he soothes. “Just sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll…” he trails off, breathing in the scent of my hair. “Forget about what I just said. Right now, sleep. I’ve got you.”

Despite everything, seeing him with her, and wondering even now if he’d rather be with her, the pain of it crushing my chest, his warmth seeps into me. It thaws the ice that’s been crystallizing in my heart since I saw him with that woman.

And I’m so tired, so desperately, bone-deep tired that I can’t fight anymore. His heartbeat is steady against my spine. His presence in this cramped, dark space makes me feel less alone.

Even if it’s a lie.

Even if tomorrow I find out who she is and I lose him.

For now, I can just let myself pretend.

Gradually, my breathing slows for real. The exhaustion of all of it crashes over me at once like a tidal wave. I must let out a whimper because he suddenly whispers against my hair:

“I’ve got you, Sage. Always.”

Liar,I think as I drift off.

But his arms feel so safe and so warm. For a split second, I wonder if this is a dream or if this is some crazy fantasy my mind has conjured up, but I’m too tired to question it anymore. So I let sleep finally take me to the sound of birds chirping and light spilling around the edge of the hotel’s blackout blinds.

And I dream of my sister back from the dead to tell me she never really loved me at all.

I waketo pale morning light filtering around unfamiliar windows and an empty space beside me.

Troy is gone.

My hand slides across to where he slept spooning behind me, if he slept at all, but the rug is cold. He’s been gone for hours. Last night comes flooding back in fragments that make my cheeks burn and my heart stutter to an almost stop. Then I crawl from under the bed and get up, wincing. My body aches in unfamiliar places, unwanted evidence of what we did, of how he made me feel.

What Ilethim make me feel.

I should be traumatized, but I’m not. I’m strangely calm. Troy came back, and it’s the only ray of hope I can cling to, but it’s enough to make me shower and dress so that when someone knocks to tell me that the helicopter is waiting to take me back to Grayfleet, I’m ready.

Kathy greets me at the front entrance of Grayfleet and follows me up to my room, carrying a tray. “Morning, dove. Thought you might be hungry.”

“Where’s Troy?”

“Not here yet. Elias said he had business to attend to before everything kicks off.” She sets the tray on the ottoman seat atthe end of the bed. I take in the tea, toast, and scrambled eggs, but nausea rises when I think about eating. “Your wedding dress arrived. It’s in your dressing room.”

My wedding dress.

Right. Because today I’m supposed to marry Troy. I have to stand in front of everyone and promise a fake forever to a man who kills people in dark alleyways, stuffs them in freezers, but makes my thighs burn and heart race with just one dark look—a man who held me last night and is gone today like a mirage.

What if last night was just a dream?

What if, when he touched me like I was his everything, and said I was his, it was all in my head?

I shove the intrusive thought away before panic can set in, and force myself to stop wringing my hands. “What time is the ceremony again?”

“Two o’clock. The car leaves at one-thirty for the church.” If Kathy has noticed my nerves, she says nothing, but her eyes are kind, making me feel even worse. “Plenty of time to get ready.”

After she leaves, I force myself to eat and go through the motions of preparing for a wedding I’m not sure will happen. The fact that Troy left without a word and didn’t wake me has my self-confidence in tatters. Thank god for wedding stylists because I can’t even hold a hairbrush, let alone swipe eyeliner with a steady hand. I didn’t even want this wedding, and now I’m scared that it’s going to slip through my fingers like ash when this precarious reality I’ve created burns down around me.

The dressing room at Grayfleet is something out of a fairy tale, all mirrors and soft lighting designed to make you look perfect at every angle. A team of stylists my mother arranged bustles in and out, but I’m glad for the company. I really don’t want to be alone with my thoughts. Not today of all days.