Love on the Edge
: Chapter 1

This is not where I want to be.

I want to be home. Not here. I’d rather be on the couch with Cassidy, watching her pick apart a bowl of popcorn, asking me a hundred questions about the movie we’ve already seen twice. That’s what I should be doing. That’s what I always do on Saturday nights.

It’s just been the two of us for a while now.

Margo, her mother, decided one day that she no longer wanted to be part of our family. Of course, it didn’t start like that, hence the reason we’re still legally married, hopefully not for too much longer.

She wanted to tour with her high school band. She said it was her big chance, her one shot to reclaim what she lost. I agreed, at first. Two months. I told myself I could handle two months. Cassidy and I would manage. Plus, Margo promised she’d call regularly. She promised she’d come back.

That was a year ago.

The first month, she called every other day, her voice buzzing with excitement about the road, the crowds, the freedom. By the second month, the calls became texts. Then… nothing. Just silence.

I should’ve seen it coming.

I replay the conversation in my head sometimes, wondering if I missed the signs.

“It’s only a little while, Ethan.” She stood by the door, bags lined up like soldiers, neat and ready to go. Her voice was firm, but I caught the hesitation. Just a flicker, not nearly enough to stop her.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter. “And Cassidy? What do I tell her when she notices you’re gone?”

‘Tell her I’ll be back soon. Tell her I love her.’

‘She’s seven, Margo. She’s not stupid.’ My voice was steady, but my grip on the counter wasn’t. ‘You think she’s just going to forget you walked out with a suitcase?’

Her shoulders stiffened. No flinch. No second thoughts. Just a slow inhale, her fingers brushing through her hair, stalling. Buying time.

‘She’ll understand when she’s older. She won’t remember this.’

I let out a short, bitter laugh. ‘She remembers everything. And when she asks me why you left, what am I supposed to say?’

That’s when she looked at me—really looked at me. Hazel eyes sharp, unrelenting. Daring me to be the bad guy.

‘You’ll figure it out, Ethan. You always do.’

It should’ve ended there. That was the moment I should’ve told her no. That she didn’t get to do this. That Cassidy deserved better. But then she squared her shoulders, and her voice turned to steel.

‘I’ve been here every single day for seven years. I gave up everything. My band, my shot, my life. Can’t you give me this?’

I wanted to tell her she hadn’t done it alone. That I’d been there too, holding it all together. But the weight of her guilt was too sharp, too thick to cut through.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face. ‘How long?’

‘Two months.’ Softer now. Hopeful, even. Like if she said it gently enough, I’d believe it.

She kissed my cheek, lingering just long enough to leave me feeling more alone than ever. Then she grabbed her bags and walked out.

The door closed with barely a sound, but it still echoed through the house.

She meant it when she said it. I think she did. But two months turned into three, then six, then twelve. She found her freedom on the road and forgot what she left behind.

Or maybe she was planning it all along. I probably should’ve seen it coming.

But I didn’t. And Cassidy is the one paying for it.

Before I walk into Drew’s, my phone buzzes.

I answer. ‘Hey, Ryan. What’s up?’ He’s not only one of my closest friends, but also my attorney for the divorce I’ve been begging for.

‘Hey. We found Margo.’ His voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t shift, doesn’t offer room for hope. Just the truth.

‘Where?’ I let out a sigh, of relief or heartbreak, I’m not sure which.

‘Halfway across the country. But the important thing is we can serve her now.’

I have no regrets, no second thoughts, this is what we need, CC and I both need it. We have to move on and accept the fact that Margo isn’t coming back.

She won’t like this. But I can’t replace it in myself to care. I’m claiming she abandoned us because she did, there’s no other way to look at it.

‘You good, man?’ Ryan asks when I don’t respond.

‘Yeah. I’m over it.’ I shake my head, trying to clear it from the spiral I was headed down.

‘I get it. Have fun at Drew’s. I’d be there if we weren’t prepping for trial. Try not to worry. Let us handle everything.’

“No worries. Thanks, man.” It’s over.

I walk into Drew’s house and look around hoping to replace my sister, Nina.

She told me to ‘dress nice’ when she demanded that I come. Whatever that means. Charcoal gray button-up, sleeves rolled up, dark jeans, boots. That’ll do.

The porch is bright, lit up with strings of lights that trail into the backyard. Everything is glowing and loud.

Warm air envelopes me just as much as the music pulsing through the speakers. There’s people everywhere, crowding around every space, if I wasn’t as tall as I am, it’d be impossible to spot Nina in her favorite purple dress. She’s laughing near the couch, like this is her stage and everyone’s just here to watch.

I move toward the kitchen and grab a beer from the counter. The bar is stocked—beer, wine, liquor. Whatever you need to get through a night like this. I take a sip, let the cold settle in my chest, and lean back.

Technically this is Drew’s house, but Nina’s everywhere. The crystals on the bookshelf? Nina. The colorful throw blanket draped over the armchair? Nina. I’ve asked Drew when he’s planning to propose. He just smirks. Soon, I think. It has to be soon. She’s practically living here now.

Drew leans against the wall, beer in hand, watching Nina move through the crowd like she was born for this. This is all her—the lights, the music, the people—every bit of it reflects the way she throws herself into life with open arms. It’s not really his thing, not the kind of night he’d plan for himself, but that doesn’t matter. Because this is Nina’s world, and he loves her enough to step into it without hesitation. He smirks as she pulls another friend onto the dance floor, her laughter carrying over the music. She’s happy. That’s what matters. So he stays, lets her do her thing, knowing she’ll end up back in his arms before the night is over.

The sectional is shoved against the wall, making room for a dance floor. People are moving. Some dancing, some just swaying like the music’s background noise. The glass doors to the backyard are open. I catch the flicker of a fire pit. Heated blankets are draped over chairs. Who does that? Someone needs to tell Drew that when you throw a party in winter, you use the oven, not the patio.

I drift back toward the kitchen. The counter’s loaded with food—Chinese takeout, by the smell of it. Classic Drew. Cooking? Not his thing. He probably ordered all of this and then played it off like he wasn’t involved.

I take another sip of my beer and lean against the counter, content to watch everyone around me.

But I’m here.

I’m here because Nina wouldn’t take no for an answer.

And because… maybe I needed to be.

I decide I’ll stick around for a little while. Grab a drink, make an appearance, then head out. Maybe I’ll pick Cassidy up early from my mom’s. She’s supposed to stay the night, but I keep checking my phone just in case.

Before I can take another sip of my beer, it happens. Fast. Too fast to react.

A blur of movement. Someone trips. And suddenly, something cold and wet is soaking through my shirt.

I freeze. Look down and see a dark cocktail dripping down my chest.

The culprit—a woman with wide, mortified eyes—stares up at me like she just spilled on a tiger. And for a second, I forget about the mess. She is beautiful. Dark hair in a braid, sharp cheekbones, deep brown eyes that flick between panic and something else. I don’t know what that is, yet.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” she blurts, words tumbling over each other.

She snatches a cocktail napkin from a nearby table and starts dabbing at my shirt. It’s doing absolutely nothing, but her frantic effort is… something.

I raise an eyebrow, holding back a smirk. “Well, that’s one way to make an introduction.”

She freezes mid-dab, then lets out an apologetic laugh. “First impressions are my specialty. Clearly.”

I shake my head, chuckling. “Could’ve been worse. At least it’s not beer.”

“Small mercies,” she mutters, the corners of her lips curving up slightly. She finally gives up on the napkin, crumpling it in her hand. “I swear I’m not usually this clumsy.”

“Right,” I say, amused. “This is just a one-time thing?”

“Exactly.” She nods. “You just had the bad luck of being my victim.”

She holds out her hand, confidence creeping back in. “I’m Valeria, by the way.”

I take it. My grip firm, but easy.

“Ethan.” For some reason, I don’t let go right away. “Nice to meet you, Valeria.”

I watch as she leans against the wall next to me, just outside the chaos of the party. I thought she’d laugh off the spill, make a joke, and disappear back into the crowd. But she doesn’t. She stays.

I take a sip of my beer, glancing at her. “Not heading back into the action?”

She tilts her head, smirk easy but knowing. “Definitely not my scene.”

I raise an eyebrow. “So the drink-spilling thing… that wasn’t just part of your big plan to blend in?”

She laughs, soft but genuine, shaking her head. “No, but if it was, I’d say it worked out. No one’s staring at me, so that’s a win.”

Her response surprises me. No awkward apology, no fake charm. Just honesty.

“So, what are you doing here?” I ask, leaning back against the wall beside her.

She sighs, brushing her hair out of her face. “A friend dragged me here. Said I needed to ‘get out of my comfort zone.’” She glances at the crowd. “Apparently, my life is boring.”

I chuckle, tipping my beer toward her. “Join the club. My sister’s responsible for this. She thinks I need to ‘socialize.’”

She laughs. “So this is her idea of you cutting loose?”

“Apparently,” I smirk. “Though I don’t think standing here with a beer and a wet shirt was part of the plan.”

Her laugh lingers this time, warm and unguarded. “Maybe we’re both bad at this party thing.”

“Maybe,” I agree, letting the word settle between us.

The party hums in the background, distant now, even though we’re still in the middle of it. She doesn’t seem in a hurry to move.

“You’re really not heading back in?” I tease.

She smirks. “Do I look like I belong out there?”

I glance at the crowd, then back at her. “No. You don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Wow. Thanks.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I mean that in a good way. You stand out.”

Her expression softens. She leans back against the wall, shoulder brushing against it. “No, you’re right.” A pause. Then she tilts her head at me.

Her lips twitch like she’s considering something. Then she gives me a playful look. “Then what are you still doing here?”

“Good question.” I watch her as the party noise blurs into the background. “Maybe I was meant to run into you.”

Her gaze holds mine a second longer before she smirks. “Well then,” she says, voice teasing but curious. “If you were meant to run into me, what’s the plan now? Enlighten me.”

I chuckle, tilting my beer toward her. “Enlighten you? That might take some time. You in a rush?”

She shrugs, eyes flicking toward the crowd before settling back on me. “Not anymore.”

She laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘Guilty. I’m more of a keep my head down and stay focused kind of person.’

“Focused on what?” I ask, actually curious now.

She hesitates, just for a second. “Work. Goals. You know, boring stuff.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What kind of goals?”

Her lips twitch like she’s debating how much to say. “Big ones.”

“Big ones?” I press, smiling. “That’s vague. Like, saving-the-world big, or personal-world-domination big?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Somewhere in between. Let’s just say I don’t leave a lot of room for… distractions.”

I glance at the crowd, then back at her. “This doesn’t seem like the kind of place for someone avoiding distractions.”

“Exactly,” she replies, tone wry. “Like I said, my friend dragged me here. She’s convinced I need to have some semblance of a life outside of work.”

“Do you?” I ask.

“Do I what?”

“Need to have some semblance of a life?”

She hesitates, gaze flicking to her drink. “I don’t know,” she admits quietly. “Maybe.”

The honesty in her answer surprises me, and I replace myself watching her more closely. She taps her fingers lightly against her cup, her mind clearly working through something.

“What about you?” she asks suddenly, shifting the attention back to me. “What’s your excuse for being here if this isn’t your thing either?”

I shrug, leaning back against the wall. “Same reason, I guess. My sister thinks I need to ‘socialize.’”

“And?” she presses, tilting her head. “Is it working?”

I glance around the room before looking back at her, smirking. “You’re standing here talking to me, so I’d say it’s working.”

She lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Good save.”

“Who says I’m saving anything?” I hold her gaze.

Her lips part slightly like she’s about to respond, then she just shakes her head, a small laugh escaping. It’s small, but I can’t look away, I’m completely captivated by the dark red of lips.

We stand in silence a little longer, the buzz of the party fading as I glance at her. She doesn’t seem in a rush to go back.

“So, Ethan,” she says suddenly, tilting her head. “If parties aren’t your thing, what is?”

I smirk, taking a sip of my beer. “That’s a loaded question.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Alright, let me narrow it down. What do you like to do when you’re not… here?”

I chuckle. “Work, mostly. I spend a lot of time at the garage.”

She tilts her head. “Garage?”

I nod. “I work on cars. Repairs, restorations, maintenance—you name it.”

Her eyes light up slightly, curiosity sparking. “So, you’re a car guy?”

“Guess so,” I shrug. “I like figuring out how things work. Cars just… make sense. Every part has a purpose. If something’s broken, you fix it.”

She leans against the wall, the slit in her dress exposing her thigh. “That’s a good way to look at it. So, it’s not just a job for you?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I like it. The hands-on work, the problem-solving. It’s… satisfying.”

Her expression softens slightly. “Must be nice, working with something you actually like. Not everyone gets to do that.”

“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “It is. Not glamorous or anything, but it’s good, honest work.”

I take another sip of my beer, watching as she leans comfortably against the wall, away from the chaos of the party. She doesn’t look bored. She looks… entertained. Like she’s enjoying making me work for this conversation.

I tip my beer toward her. ‘Alright, my turn.’

She smirks. ‘Your turn for what?’

‘For questions.’ I nod at her. ‘I told you what I do. What about you?’

She tilts her head, considering, then shrugs. ‘I work.’

I let out a short laugh. ‘Wow. Great answer. Really deep.’

Her lips twitch. ‘I like to keep things mysterious.’

I shake my head. ‘Alright, fine. Let’s play a game. I’ll guess, and you tell me if I’m warm or cold.’

She sighs, exaggerated, like this is a hassle. ‘Fine. But if you say accountant, I’m walking away.’

I smirk. ‘Noted. You don’t seem like the type to sit behind a desk all day.’

She lifts her cup in a toast. ‘Warm.’

‘Something physical. Personal trainer?’

She scrunches her nose. ‘Cool.’

‘Yoga instructor?’

Her laughter spills out before she can stop it. ‘Ice cold.’

I narrow my eyes. ‘Lumberjack?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Do I look like I cut down trees for a living?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, you’ve got strong arms.’

She snorts, shaking her head. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘But warm, right?’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Fine. Warm.’

I lean in slightly. ‘So… you’re obviously some kind of athlete.’

She takes a slow sip of her drink before answering. ‘Warmer.’

I point my beer at her. ‘Aha. I knew it. You give off that whole ‘wake up at 5 AM and train until you hate yourself’ vibe.’

She exhales a dramatic sigh. ‘Busted.’

I grin. ‘Okay, final guess. You’re a professional dodgeball player.’

She bursts out laughing, and I swear it’s one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard. ‘Yeah, you got me. Nationally ranked.’

I shake my head. ‘I knew it.’

She smirks, but there’s something flickering behind it—like she’s enjoying this but still holding something back.

I arch a brow. ‘You love it?’

She hesitates a second too long before nodding. ‘Yeah. I do.’

I watch her, amused. ‘And yet, you won’t actually tell me what you do.’

She grins. ‘Nope.’

I chuckle, shaking my head. ‘So I tell you I work with cars, and you make me play ‘20 Questions’ to replace out what you do?’

‘Sounds fair to me,’ she says, smirking.

I take another sip of my beer, considering her. She’s interesting. Not just because she won’t answer, but because she enjoys the game.

I tilt my beer slightly in her direction. ‘You’re something else.’

She lifts her drink. ‘So I’ve been told.’

The music changes, the bass kicks harder, the beat heavier. A couple stumbles past, tripping over each other. I have no idea if they just met or if they’re actually together, but she spills her drink on the way, so I know they’re drunk.

‘That’s my cue,’ Valeria says.

I glance at her. She’s watching them too.

‘Done already?’ I ask, chuckling.

‘I think I hit my limit about ten minutes ago,’ she says, eyes flicking toward the crowd. ‘I don’t even know half these people. And the ones I do? I’d rather not.’

‘Do you need an escape plan?’ I ask, smirking.

She looks at me, and I laugh harder.

‘You offering one?’ she asks.

She’s quick-witted. I like that about her.

‘I’ve got a truck outside and a solid track record of avoiding bad situations. Seems like a good deal.’

She pretends to think it over. ‘Hmm. So what’s the catch?’

‘No catch,’ I say, shrugging. ‘Just two people ditching a party they didn’t want to be at in the first place.’

She looks around, still thinking. Probably about how bad of an idea it is to leave with a total stranger.

Finally, she finishes the last sip of her drink. ‘Alright. Let’s go before my friend replaces me and gives me another speech about ‘loosening up.’’

‘You spilled a drink on a stranger. That’s got to count for something.’

She nudges me playfully, as we push off the wall and head for the door.

The cool night air is a sharp contrast to the heat inside. Valeria pulls her jacket tighter around her.

I unlock the truck and glance at her. ‘Regretting your decision already?’

‘Not yet,’ she teases, sliding into the passenger seat. ‘But let’s see where this night takes us first.’

I smirk, closing the driver’s side door. ‘Guess we will.’

I slide into the driver’s seat and turn to her. ‘So, where are we going?’

‘I would say home, but I don’t need my parents asking me how the party went and why I’m home so early,’ she says.

‘Oh, I feel that,’ I say.

She exhales, like she’s debating whether to say more. ‘I’m trying to move out, but honestly, my parents aren’t home enough for me to warrant it.’

She looks away, almost embarrassed.

‘You don’t owe me an explanation,’ I say, keeping my voice even. ‘I get it. No judgment.’

She nods, then shifts in her seat. ‘How about we go somewhere quiet? Hang out for a bit?’

‘Deal,’ I say, putting the truck in drive.

I know the perfect spot. A clearing not far from Drew’s house. People use it for stargazing, but this late, it’ll be empty. Quiet. A good place to breathe.