Page 113 of Tiny Fractures

“What the fuck?” Shane says, his brow furrowed. “Cat, are you alright?” I nod, aware of the looks and whispers from customers around us, but Shane doesn’t seem to care. “How about you, Ran? You okay?” he asks, eyeing Ronan’s left cheekbone where a bruise is already blooming.

“I’ve had worse,” Ronan says absentmindedly as he looks me over, so much worry in his eyes.

“Maybe you should take Cat home,” Shane says, “and put some ice on that bruise. I’m going to clean up this mess,” he adds, motioning toward the blood spatter on the floor.

Ronan nods at him, and I interlace my fingers with Ronan’s. He leads me over to the bar where he reaches over the counter and picks up his wallet and keys.

“Ready?” he asks me, his voice soft, and I nod. Giving my hand a quick squeeze, he leads me past our friends, out of the restaurant, and to his car where he holds the door open for me while I slip into the passenger seat. I watch Ronan as he quickly takes stock of our surroundings, making sure Adam truly has left. Then he maneuvers around the front of his car, wipes the blood from his lip, and gets into the driver’s seat.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, looking at him.

His eyebrows crease and he looks at me, his eyes soft, as he turns his whole body toward me and takes my hand into both of his. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he says forcefully. “You did nothing wrong.” He doesn’t break eye contact with me, his gaze intense, and finally I lift my hand to carefully touch his lip with my index finger.

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” I whisper.

“I’m fine, Cat. I promise.” He takes my hand, pulls it to his lips, and kisses it softly. “This isn’t anything I can’t handle. What I wouldn’t be able to handle is if this guy put his hands on you,” he adds stiffly. He begins to drive toward my house.

“But I hate that you had to protect me, and that you got hurt. I hate that Adam was there; I hate how he made me feel.” I start to cry as the adrenaline leaves my body and the reality of what just happened crashes in on me. “I hate it all.”

Ronan’s hand tightens around mine. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry that assholes like him exist. He has no right to do this shit to you; I’m sorry I didn’t prevent him from… God, I want to kill him,” Ronan says, his jaw tight, and I can feel him tense again.

“You stopped him, though; you protected me,” I whisper.

Ronan’s eyes leave the road to look over at me briefly, his expression softening. “I wish I could keep you safe always.”

“That’s impossible,” I sigh, feeling defeated. Even though Ronan may have stopped Adam from hurting me today, he still doesn’t know about the pictures I sent to Adam, still doesn’t know what kind of hold Adam has on me, what kind of power Adam could exert if he wished to do so.

“I know,” Ronan says. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

Ronan

I stay with Cat for about twenty minutes after dropping her back off at her house. I sit with her, my arm wrapped around her, while she tells her mom what happened—not only tonight, but over the past couple months. By the looks on Cat’s mom’s face, Cat hadn’t told her about Adam’s late-night phone calls and creepy texts. Her mom is furious and insists on calling the police. Cat tries to talk her out of it, but when she looks to me for support, I agree with her mom.

“I’m no cop, but I’m pretty sure that if he got six months’ probation, then he probably isn’t supposed to have even left North Carolina, let alone make contact with you,” I urge Cat.

She just shakes her head as tears silently roll down her face. God damn, I just want to make it all go away for her. I want her to feel safe, and I know that calling the cops on this asshole is the best chance to keep him away from her. Hopefully he’ll be in violation of his probation and he’ll have to pay the consequences, meaning he’ll stay as far away from Cat as possible.

“This isn’t up for discussion, Cat,” her mom says sternly, and ends up calling the police. I wait around, holding Cat, letting her cry in my arms, until two uniformed officers show up. Then her mom, over Cat’s vehement objection, suggests I leave.

“Your cheek looks like it needs some ice on it,” Cat’s mom says warmly, and hands me a small bag filled with ice. I nod gratefully, putting the bag against my cheek and allowing it to numb my skin. “And Ronan,” she calls after me as I’m about to walk out of the front door. She closes the little distance between us with a couple of steps. “Thank you for protecting her.” Then she encircles me with her arms and gives me a tight hug.

I don’t really know what to do and awkwardly pat her on the back.

The whole drive home I replay what happened in my mind. I only saw Cat briefly when she walked into Murphy’s and headed to the bathroom. I was busy getting orders out. When I was at the bar getting ready to grab a drink order from Jack, I noticed her rush out of the bathroom, some asshole right behind her. I saw him grab her and was already making my way toward them, my hands clenched into fists, when I heard her say his name: Adam. And it’s like everything went blank.

My body went on autopilot. I remember telling him to stay the fuck away from her, and when he started insulting her, calling her a slut, I fucking lost my shit on him. And I couldn’t stop—didn’t want to stop. Shane and Steve pulled me off him, and this asshole got a couple good licks in, but that just pissed me off more. Every cell in my body wanted to kill this guy for everything he had ever done to Cat and for having the fucking nerve to show up here and threaten her, touch her, call her names. Not on my fucking watch.

The rage I felt was blinding, but then Cat threw herself at me, slinging her arms around my neck, and my whole body relaxed against her. It was the craziest thing. It’s like she’s the antidote to the fear, the pain, the anger, the hurt, and all that’s messed up in my life, at least momentarily.

***

I pull up to my house, knowing full well that my mom is home—she’s not working tonight—and I briefly contemplate just heading back to work right now. But I have blood stains on my shirt and jeans; no idea whether they’re from Adam or me. Honestly, I didn’t even realize I was bleeding until I was about to get in my car. It’s worrisome because I didn’t even recognize myself; it’s like I just lost it, and I wonder if that’s what happens to my mother when I’m around her. Like I just set her off and she loses all control, just like I did with Adam. If it hadn’t been for Shane and Steve, I’m honestly not sure I would have stopped beating the shit out of him. What the fuck does that mean for me?

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself, running my hands roughly over my face, wincing when I graze the fresh bruise on my cheekbone. I get out of my car, walk into the house through the open garage, and head up the three steps into the kitchen.

My mother stands at the sink. “I thought you’re working,” she says, and her eyes flit first to my cheek, then my lip. “What happened to your face, Ronan?” She takes a step toward me, looking me over. “Did you get in a fight?” She’s getting agitated; I can hear it in her voice. “God damn it, Ronan.”

“So what if I did?” I say, trying to move around her. I seriously wonder about myself sometimes; it’s not like I don’t know that these last five words are going to piss her off. But I don’t really give a shit right now. I’m still too on edge, my body still under tension with restless energy pricking my skin.

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