Page 111 of Tiny Fractures

“I’m fine,” Ronan continues, and looks at me, smiling. “But it’s not a great time, actually.”

He pauses for a moment while the person on the other end says something, and Ronan chuckles. “I sort of have company.” He moves his hand to my cheek, continuing to smile at me. He doesn’t break eye contact with me even while talking to this Morai person.

He chuckles in a low tone. “Yes, a girl. Her name is Cat. No, not Catherine. Just Cat. With a C. Yep, like the pet,” he says and rolls his eyes at me, which makes me giggle. “Uh-huh,” he continues, his voice taking on a gravelly tone. “She’s my girlfriend, Morai.”

Ronan is full-on laughing now, and I cock my head to the side, analyzing him. “What? You want me to describe her to you?” His smile becomes even wider. “She’s perfect, Morai. She has beautiful hazel eyes with these amazing gold specks in them. Really long eyelashes and the most gorgeous face—full lips and high cheekbones. She has long legs and delicate features and long, soft blonde hair. She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, Morai. And she is so incredibly good to me.” Ronan’s voice is so soft as he describes me, his eyes never leaving mine. I can’t tell if he’s describing me to me or to the person on the other line on the phone, but I lean in and kiss his lips softly. I pull back and notice that Ronan’s eyes are closed while he continues to talk. “Okay,” Ronan sighs. “Yeah, I promise. Love you, too.”

He opens his eyes, then hangs up the phone.

I look at Ronan expectantly, hoping he’ll finally enlighten me as to the identity of this mysterious caller.

“That was my grandmother,” he says, grinning from ear to ear, and my face breaks into a smile. “She calls me about once a month to check up on me.”

“I love that,” I say, meaning it. “Is her name Morai?”

“No, that’s the Irish nickname for ‘grandma,’” he explains. “She was really interested to hear about you,” he chuckles.

I blush a little. “Thank you for describing me the way you did,” I say, leaning against Ronan.

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” He studies my face, his eyes intense like he’s deep in thought, like he has something he wants to get off his chest. But he seems to reconsider and kisses me deeply instead, making all thoughts vanish from my head as I lose track of time and my surroundings during the ensuing make-out session.

“Did you enjoy skating today?” Ronan asks after we get our fill of each other about thirty minutes later.

“I did,” I say, and watch Ronan roll out of his bed reluctantly. He slips on his signature black Murphy’s long-sleeve, covering his bare torso, while I sit up and pull my shirt back down. “I’m going to need some practice, though, if I want to keep up with you.”

He smiles, then leans onto his bed and over me, brushing his lips softly against mine. “I’ll be happy to practice with you any time,” he says. “Are you stopping by Murphy’s tonight?”

“That was my plan,” I say, and kiss him back, not ready to let him go. I could really get used to sleeping in the same bed as Ronan, waking up next to him, and spending the day with him.

***

Ronan leaves for Murphy’s about twenty minutes later, and after hanging out with Steve a while longer and making plans to meet the rest of our friends at Murphy’s as well, Vada takes me home. She hangs out in the living room, ensuring a proper alibi for last night—after all, I told my mom I’d be spending the night at Vada’s—while I change. I pull on my favorite pair of faded blue jeans—the ones with the worn knees—and a well-fitting vintage Johnny Cash shirt, then slip my feet into my red chucks and skip down the stairs.

“Let’s go,” I say to Vada, who walks out the door ahead of me while I wave to my mom.

Vada and I get back into her car and make it to Murphy’s fifteen minutes later.

“I’m going to run to the restroom really quick,” I say, and Vada nods before heading off to find our friends. I glance around as I walk, trying to find the one boy who always makes my heart rate increase, and I spot him standing at a table about twenty feet away, talking with some customers. As if he can sense me, Ronan looks up and over, his lips tugging into a smile the second his eyes lock on mine before he turns his attention back to the three people sitting at the table.

I walk into the bathroom. It’s completely empty when I stand in front of the sink, washing my hands, then drying them and discarding the paper towels in the trash. I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket and pull it out to see a text from Vada.

Vada: we’re at the large table right by the bar… you’ll have the perfect view of Ran from here. Just try not to get all swoony ;)

I smile to myself, thinking about Ronan, and begin to text her back as I pull open the bathroom door and walk out just to crash right into someone. I look up from my phone, an apology on my lips, when a hand encircles my wrist and recognition floods my brain.

“Adam!” I say, stunned, my eyes wide. I swallow hard as my whole body tenses. He really is here, in New York. I wasn’t mistaken earlier—it was him at the rink. I knew I recognized him, even with the hood obscuring his face. My body knew. It remembered.

“Surprise!” he says, eyeing me from head to toe. I pull my hand back. He towers over me, his shadow eclipsing the light around me.

“What are you doing here?” I say meekly. I’m scared of him, and he knows it.

“I don’t know why, but I can’t get you out of my head. Probably has something to do with those tasty pictures you’ve been sending me,” he adds with a chuckle. “So, I thought I’d make good on my promise of a visit,” he says, smiling ominously.

“How did you even find me?” I ask as I try to step around him.

He blocks my path with his large body, moving close to me, the space between us diminishing.

My body stiffens with fear.

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