Page 45 of Edge

Roger leaned forward,elbows on his knees, hands dangling. “The diaries. That’s all youever wanted from me, wasn’t it? You never saw me as a second fatherfigure or even a real friend.”

Jory heaved a sigh. “Youknow why. We argued about it enough when I was growing up.” He tooka deep breath. “You never made it easy. You came into my life whenI was fourteen and ran the house like an army barracks. I wasexpected to check in and out every time I went somewhere withhardly any freedom for myself. You didn’t allow me any friends overbecause they would’ve messed up the pristine home you’d made.Everything in its place, no room for mess. I was a teenage boy forGod’s sake. Chaos was a natural thing to experience at thatage.”

“You neededstructure,” Roger argued, his cheeks ruddy. “You were a stubbornlittle bastard, always fighting against authority. I needed toteach you respect and appreciation for the things you were given.”He laughed harshly. “And you sicced the solicitors on me to getback your trust account because you accused me of misusing it.Ungrateful little bastard.” Spittle ran down his jaw and he ignoredit.

Jory gave a harsh laugh.“The things I was given? I had to earn everything I got. You didn’tbelieve in giving birthday or Christmas presents. If I wantedsomething, I had to work for it. Remember the skateboard I wantedwhen I turned fifteen? You made me come to your office and scrubtoilets, and clean the floors with a bristle brush. It took mehours and hours, late into the night to finish. Then when I gothome you insisted I do my homework before I went to bed. It waslike bloody slave labour.”

“I wasteaching you values,” Roger said between gritted teeth. “Yourfather tasked me with a duty and I had to honour it. We weresoldiers together and that’s what brothers do. Take care of eachother’s family.” His face was ruddy and twisted. “And as soon asyou could, despite all my arduous work and giving up my life tocare for you, when you were seventeen you left without anycompunction, and all I got each year was a Christmas card. Untileven those stopped.”

Jory shook his head.“Don’t kid yourself. As for me getting control of my fund back, youloved being in control of my inheritance fund. It paid for allthose holidays abroad you took, and those fancy golf memberships.And let’s not forget the bad investment you made where you lostover a hundred grand. I mean, who else thought an on-demand cookiedelivery service could take off?”

“Doughbies wasa solid investment platform,” Roger growled. “The investors knewwhat they were doing when I signed up. Somewhere along the line,they lost the vision they had and it all crumbled intonothing.”

Jory couldn’t help it.“Crumbled,” he snickered. “An apt description.”

Roger’s face resembled athundercloud. “So I made a wrong decision. I tried to mould you,make you into a man your parents could be proud of.”

“AndI succeeded,” Jory saidquietly. “I won’t deny you had a small hand in it in the earlystages, but I made it to where I am on my own.”

Roger grunted. “Whatever.We all have our opinions on that one.”

Jory sat up, irritated.“Anyway, we didn’t come up here to talk about the past. I need toget assurances about the future. Are you going to give me thediaries back and get out of my life?”

Roger stayed quiet andgot to his feet, walking towards the cliff edge. Jory waited awhile, then, seeing Roger wasn’t back anytime soon, he sighed andgot up to follow him.

Looks likethis isn’t going very well. Is he playing me?

Jory stood next to hisformer guardian, not too close. Roger was so near to the edge itwas freaking him out.

“Do you wantto maybe step back a bit, Roger?” he muttered. “If the groundcrumbles, you’ll be flying and not in a safe way.”

Roger continued to stareacross the ocean, his body still, seemingly unconcerned aboutJory’s warning. “Do you know what Huntingdon’s disease is?” hemurmured.

Jory blinked inconfusion. “I’ve heard of it, of course. Why do youask?”

Roger turned and smiledat him. “Because I have it.” His face was calm, too calm forsomeone telling another they had a fatal disease.

Jory’s gut tightened andhe stared at Roger in disbelief. No matter how much he disliked theman, nobody deserved such a diagnosis.

“Oh God, I’mso sorry,” he blurted. “I mean, how do you know, have you been tothe specialist?”

Roger nodded. “Oh yes.They tell me I’m in stage two. I’m sure you’ve noticed changes inme. I can’t help them, I’m afraid. It’s the way it is.”

Jory raised his handshelplessly. “So what can they do for you? Surely there’s medicationyou can take to make it manageable?”

Roger shook his head.“I’m afraid not. There are medications to treat the symptoms, butnot the disease itself.” He turned and gave a twisted grin. “I’vebeen in stage two for a while. The disease is progressive and getsfar worse than what you may have seen.”

“I’m sosorry,” Jory said again. “I truly am.” Hearing his former guardianhad a debilitating disease and was going to die made Jory feelguilty at mentioning the diaries again and what would happen now.From the little he’d read in passing about Huntingdon’s, he thoughtit could take years to eventual death.

“I’ve made mypeace with it.” Roger turned to Jory, his face calm. “It’s why I’vedecided those damn diaries won’t be any use to usanymore.”

Jory felt a swell ofrelief. Perhaps Roger was going to make said peace with him too andreturn the diaries, in a bid for some weird redemption. Who knewwhat people thought when they were handed a deathsentence?

Hang on. Didhe say “us”?

“How will youmove forward then with your life?” he asked. “Is there anything Ican do to make it easier for you? We may have had our differences,but I’d never begrudge you anything that might make your lifeeasier if I could.”

He wasn’t expecting ablinding smile from Roger, and his swift move forward to gripJory’s arm tightly in both of Roger’s hands.