Page 116 of On The Edge

I miss you.

I need you.

I lo . . .

I lift the bottle to match the burn in my chest that those words cause.

It’s too dangerous. Even if it’s true.

After her optimistic texts about her meeting, I know it won’t be long before she leaves me.

So I won’t say the words. I can’t. I’ll hold them in and shove them deep down. That way, it won’t hurt so much when she disappears from my life too.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Maddix

The minute Cruz puts the car in park, I jump out and run to where my mom is standing with her arms open waiting for me.

“Mom,” I cry as I cross the distance and then am wrapped in the arms of the woman who has been my rock. She smells of vanilla and spice—the scents of every memory I’ve ever had—and I just hold on to her as the tears well and fall.

And I don’t care that they do.

“Goodness. Look at you. Sunkissed and . . . happy.” She holds my arms out as I grin goofily at her before she pulls me against her again and soaks me in.

“Maddster.” It’s my dad’s gruff voice that has me shifting and hugging him. His strong arms wrap around me, picking me up off my feet in a bear hug for the ages.

We all begin talking at once. Months’ worth of conversation reduced down into a few minutes of speed talking and gesticulation and touching each other’s arms constantly to reassure ourselves that we’re really together.

But it’s when my dad stiffens that I realize I forgot about one very important thing. I turn to look in the same direction as my dad. Cruz is standing against the team-provided sports car, his hands are in his pockets, and he’s simply watching us from behind his sunglasses.

My smile widens if that’s possible.

I told myself that this wasn’t a big deal—Cruz meeting my parents. That it was just the continuation of the charade, a natural progression of things, but I suddenly have butterflies in my stomach knowing the two most important men in my life are about to meet.

And I know for a fact that Cruz’s job and status won’t have any sway with my father. How he treats me will be the deciding factor.

“Mom. Dad. This is Cruz Navarro. Cruz, this is Gavin and Clarissa Hart.”

They shake hands, and I breathe a sigh of relief as the four of us fall into easy conversation. The topics are all superficial—Cruz asking about the property we’re on, my mom asking him whether he enjoys coming to America or not, my dad uttering few words as he silently judges—but there is an unexpected ease. No doubt, a huge part is because Cruz is so practiced meeting strangers and making them feel comfortable in a short amount of time.

We move into the house and then out onto the back patio. “A drink anyone?” my dad asks. His litmus test for everyone is their drink of choice.

“Normally I’d say yes to whatever beer you have on hand,” Cruz says, earning some raised brows by my father. No doubt he expected something swankier. “But it’s race week so none for me. Thank you though.” He puts a hand on the small of my back, which by the look exchanged between my parents, doesn’t go unnoticed. “What’ll you have, Madds?”

“You know what? I’ll help,” I say to my dad and rise from my seat.

I know that Cruz can one hundred percent handle my mother. It’s my father, whose sliding glances communicate distrust, that I need to placate.

“Oh. Uh. Okay.” Cruz shifts in his seat and smiles at my mom, but not before casting a strangled glance my way.

My footsteps falter as the thought crosses my mind. Cruz Navarro has never been taken home to anyone’s parents before.

At least there’s one first I get to claim . . . even if it’s pretend.

My dad’s hulking figure stands at the refrigerator door staring at the items inside, but he never reaches for anything.

“Dad?”