Edged (The Invincibles 2)

“You sure about that?”

I scrubbed my face a second time, again wishing I wasn’t so pissed.

“Can I get you anything?”

“A beer would be nice. Thanks.”

I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle. “Glass?”

“I’m good. Not having one?”

“Nah. I’ve had a few already.”

“So…I want to apologize for the way I left this morning.”

I couldn’t focus on what she was saying as I waited with dread for another knock on the door. “Accepted.”

“Edge? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why?”

“First of all, why do you keep repeating everything twice? ‘Sure, sure.’ ‘No, no.’ ‘Yeah, yeah.’”

I scrubbed my face a third time. “Long day, I guess.”

“And you keep rubbing your hand over your face.”

“Listen, the truth is—”

Knock, knock.

“I thought you weren’t expecting anyone.”

“It’s just Casper. You know, about the job.” I walked around the corner and over to the front door, hoping she’d just go along with everything I said when she saw Rebel sitting in the kitchen. Before I could utter a syllable, I watched as one sentence unraveled any progress I’d momentarily hoped to make.

“Thanks again for letting me stay, Edge. I can’t say I’m sorry Rebel left.”

I took Casper by the arm. “And, as you can see, she’s back.” Probably not my most eloquent attempt at salvaging anything at all with the woman I wished had come back to stay forever.

“I was just leaving.” Rebel slammed past me and out the front door, closing it so hard I thought the paintings might fall from the walls.

“Oh, no. God, Edge. I’m so sorry.”

My eyes met Casper’s. “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t, and something told me it never would be again.

“Bloody hell,” I groaned when I rolled over and the sun shone in my eyes. It wasn’t so much that I was hungover; it was more the memory of how quickly my life had gone straight to hell that made me want to crawl into a cave. Or go lie on a beach for a month. Not without Rebel, though.

I picked up my mobile and checked the time. Half past nine, which meant I’d missed breakfast at the dining hall. It would be another ninety minutes before lunch service began and I’d have a chance to talk to Rebel.

Was going there even fair? But I had to. I couldn’t ring her. When I talked to her, it had to be in person. Maybe it would be better if I showed up near the end of dinner and ask if we could talk after.

The idea of getting out of bed to take a shower felt like a punch to my gut. If I set foot in that bloody lavatory, all I’d see would be Rebel’s unbearably hot body in the tub I prayed I’d talk her back into one day.

My phone chimed, but with an alert from Grinder, not Rebel. I thought about ignoring him, but given I’d slept most of the morning away, I decided against it.

Get your arse out of bed, you lazy wanker, the text read.

Sod off.