Page 137 of Tiny Fractures

“I didn’t get to tell him that I love him,” I finally choke out. “I wanted him to say it first, and now I may never know,” I say between sobs, which are becoming heavier as I think about Ronan and what he means to me.

Steve rubs his hands up and down my back. “You can’t talk like that; he’s going to be okay,” he chokes, and I realize now that Steve is crying, too.

I wrap my arms around him, hoping to be able to comfort him as he comforts me. We hold each other a while longer, and when I’ve cried my last tear for the moment, I pull back, my eyes puffy and tired.

“Let’s try to get a little more sleep,” Steve suggests, his face tear-stained, and I nod, hopping off the counter. Steve holds my hand all the way back up to Vada’s room, and I’m so glad he’s here with me, sharing the pain.

“Wake me as soon as you’re awake,” I make Steve promise. Then I sneak back into Vada’s room, and Steve back into Zack’s.

Sunday, August 29th

Cat

Steve doesn’t have to wake me this morning. We emerge simultaneously from our respective bedrooms—already dressed and ready to go—by the time the sun rises. We get to the hospital at seven, leaving the house before either Vada or Zack are awake.

I didn’t think it was possible, but in the daylight that streams in through the large window to the right of Ronan’s hospital bed, Ronan’s injuries look a thousand times worse than they did just hours ago. His bruises are darker, his face even more swollen. His chest is blue and purple, making it obvious that a majority of his ribs are broken. It takes me a few seconds to jumpstart my breathing and fully enter the room.

It’s obvious that Frank spent the entire night with Ronan; he’s still wearing the same clothes he came to the hospital in yesterday. His hair is messy, dark circles sit under his eyes, and his chin is scruffy.

He tells Steve and me that he got only a couple hours of sleep on the small loveseat against the wall. “I was terrified that if I closed my eyes, Ran would slip away for good,” Frank says, his eyes heavy, gaze hollow. “So, I just sat next to him, held his hand, talked to him,” he sighs.

Steve tries to convince his dad to go home for a few hours, take a shower, maybe get some sleep. It’s as though Steve is the adult right now, responsible beyond his years. While the two talk, I pull a chair to Ronan’s bedside and carefully take his unbandaged but IV-riddled right hand into mine. His skin is startlingly cold, a stark contrast to the warmth that usually radiates off him.

I cover his hand with both of mine, wanting to share my body heat with him, hoping that, just like in fairy tales, this will make him open his gorgeous green eyes.

“I miss you,” I whisper, and place a small kiss on his palm, the one place that doesn’t have needles sticking into his skin or is covered by bandages. Even so, his palm is bruised and cut up, which I imagine is from all the broken glass he must have been lying in. I force the images of Ronan being beaten out of my mind and instead lay my head onto his bed, right next to his hand. He doesn’t smell the way he did when I fell asleep next to him the last time. The smell of disinfectant and hospital clings to his skin and, once again, I wish for him to wake up.

Only when Shane—who looks like he was up all night—walks into the room is Steve able to convince his dad to go home for a little bit. Both boys promise they’ll call Frank if anything changes with Ronan.

“Fuck, is it me, or does Ran look even worse today?” Shane asks quietly as he stands behind me, looking down at his best friend.

“He looks worse,” Steve agrees matter-of-factly from across the room, and I nod in agreement with the both of them.

“How long have you known?” Steve asks Shane, his eyes on him. “How long have you known about my mom hurting Ran?”

Shane hesitates for a moment, his shoulders heavy. “I found out in February,” he says, his voice low and full of guilt.

“You’ve known for six months that my mom was doing this shit to Ran?” Steve asks with an edge to his voice as he stands.

“Yeah… No… I mean…” Shane stammers. He looks absolutely devastated.

“And you didn’t fucking tell anyone?” Steve growls.

“Dude, I had no idea how fucking bad it was. Ran didn’t talk about any of this; I only found out by accident, and—”

“That doesn’t fucking matter, Shane,” Steve shouts.

“Whoa, man, you lived with him! Instead of laying into me, why don’t you ask yourself how it was possible for you to not know what Ran was going through?” Shane snarls.

Steve looks like Shane shoved a dagger straight into his heart. “I don’t fucking know, okay? And it’s eating me up. But, fuck, you did know! And you didn’t say a fucking thing to anyone. How could you let this happen?”

“Guys!” I say loudly, without letting go of Ronan’s hand. “Stop it. Shane didn’t let anything happen.”

“How can you say that, Cat?” Steve snaps at me. “Shane knew my mom was hurting Ran and he didn’t say anything to anyone.”

“Man, I wanted to. I told Ran he needed to say something, but he just fought me on it,” Shane shouts at Steve.

“And you listened to him? You should have told me at least. He’s my little brother!”

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