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      The Edge of Never

      J.A. Redmerski

       To lovers and dreamers and anyone who hasn’t truly experienced either.

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Eleven

       Twelve

       Thirteen

       Fourteen

       Fifteen

       Sixteen

       Seventeen

       Eighteen

       Nineteen

       Twenty

       Twenty-One

       Twenty-Two

       Twenty-Three

       Twenty-Four

       Twenty-Five

       Twenty-Six

       Twenty-Seven

       Twenty-Eight

       Twenty-Nine

       Thirty

       Thirty-One

       Thirty-Two

       Thirty-Three

       Thirty-Four

       Thirty-Five

       Thirty-Six

       Thirty-Seven

       Thirty-Eight

       Thirty-Nine

       Forty

       Exclusive bonus material - the hospital scene from Andrew’s point of view

       Keep Reading The Edge of Always

       Keep Reading Song of The Fireflies

       About the Author

       Also by J.A. Redmerski

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       One

      Natalie has been twirling that same lock of hair for the past ten minutes and it’s starting to drive me nuts. I shake my head and pull my iced latte toward me, strategically placing my lips on the straw. Natalie sits across from me with her elbows propped on the little round table, chin in one hand.

      “He’s gorgeous,” she says staring off toward the guy who just got in line. “Seriously, Cam, would you look at him?”

      I roll my eyes and take another sip. “Nat,” I say, placing my drink back on the table, “you have a boyfriend—do I need to constantly remind you?”

      Natalie sneers playfully at me. “What are you, my mother?” But she can’t keep her eyes on me for long, not while that walking wall of sexy is standing at the register ordering coffee and scones. “Besides, Damon doesn’t care if I look—as long as I’m bending over for him every night, he’s good with it.”

      I let out a spat of air, blushing.

      “See! Uh huh,” she says, smiling hugely. “I got a laugh out of you.” She reaches over and thrusts her hand into her little purple purse. “I have to make note of that,” and she pulls out her phone and opens her digital notebook. “Saturday. June 15th.” She moves her finger across the screen. “1:54 p.m. – Camryn Bennett laughed at one of my sexual jokes.” Then she shoves the phone back inside her purse and looks at me with that thoughtful sort of look she always has when she’s about to go into therapy-mode. “Just look once,” she says, all joking aside.

      Just to appease her, I turn my chin carefully at an angle so that I can get a quick glimpse of the guy. He moves away from the register

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