Page 153 of Tiny Fractures

“He needs me, Mom. I can’t just abandon him now,” I argued with her, still in disbelief.

“And I need you to be safe, Kitty. You’ve been through terrible things yourself very recently,” she said, reminding me of the abusive relationship with Adam I escaped mere months ago. “I think you still have your very own healing to do. And I don’t know that you can or should set your own well-being aside right now.”

I nodded at her, letting her words sink in. I really thought about what she was telling me. I knew she was worried for me and wanted to keep me safe. And I knew she wasn’t telling me to leave Ronan because she thought he wasn’t good enough for me; she was telling me to consider creating a protective barrier, to not get too involved in Ronan’s struggles.

“Ran put his own well-being aside when he protected me from Adam,” I finally said. “He kept me safe from Adam to his own detriment.”

“I know, Kitty, but that’s—”

“Ran has helped me heal, Mom. You yourself told me that not all boys are bad, that I would learn to trust again. Do you remember?” I asked her, and she nodded, her eyes soft. “And Ran did that for me. He is… Ran is so perfect to me, Mom. He’s kind and respectful. He’s never put a hand on me, has never even made me think he would or could do that to me. Mom, Ran has never even raised his voice at me. And he’s been nothing but amazing to me even though… even though it looks like his mom was probably hurting him this entire time. I wouldn’t be where I am—so happy—if it weren’t for Ran. He’s helping me heal—has helped me heal for the past four months, Mom. And I’m going to do the same for him,” I told her with finality in my voice.

She smiled at me then, though her eyes reflected some sadness. “Okay. Just be mindful, Kitty. Ronan has a long road ahead of him. You are an incredible, wonderful, selfless young woman for wanting to be by his side through this. I honestly didn’t expect anything different from you. But, just know that I’m here, okay? Come talk to me about things. And, be patient with yourself and with Ronan. Things will probably be really different while he… while he finds his way back to himself.”

Over the next two weeks, my mom has continued to talk to me about what to expect, what Ronan’s state of mind might be. She continued to tell me about triggers, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder—all the things she talked to me about after the violent ending to my relationship with Adam. And I’ve been talking things through with her, taking note of any tips that might be helpful to me because, just like Ronan has been an instrumental part in my own healing, I want to be that for him in return.

***

I’ve been hanging out at Ronan’s house since getting out of school this afternoon, yet again skipping softball practice, which has been a regular occurrence these past few weeks. I missed the entirety of the first week, and my coach has been really understanding. I have made a pretty regular showing at practice over the past three weeks, though, mostly because seeing Ronan wasn’t really in the cards while he was in rehab. Visitations at the rehabilitation facility were much, much more limited because he was in therapy so much and their visiting hours weren’t as generous. If I was lucky, I had an hour with him every day.

I’m desperate for alone time with him. We haven’t been alone together since my birthday. His dad or Steve or one of our friends are always around, and it’s wearing on me. I’m obviously aware that we couldn’t have done anything intimate even if we had been alone, but I just want to be able to give him my undivided attention, and I want his. And yeah, I want to be physically close to him again, a fact that I mentioned to Vada just a couple of days ago, resulting in her listing all the ways Ronan and I could be intimate without actually having sex. I kept blushing at her suggestions, but I have to admit, I’m intrigued to try some of them.

I’m sitting in the living room of the Soult house with Shane, watching a hockey game. Shane has been pointing out the different shots and maneuvers the players use to score, and explaining penalties and the various positions to me. I have to say, I’m learning a lot, although I’m really just biding my time before Ronan is finally home.

The glass table that somehow shattered when Ronan was assaulted has been replaced with a gray driftwood table. There’s a new, light-blue rug on the floor; the old one was thrown out immediately because it was stained with Ronan’s blood. Onyx is asleep on the other end of the couch and Shane is telling me all about slap shots when the front door opens. Shane and I exchange a quick glance and stand up. We hurry into the hallway where Frank has his back to us while Ronan makes his way through the front door, followed by Steve.

When Ronan’s eyes meet mine, he gives me a dazzling smile. I forget about everyone around me and rush toward him, flinging myself into his arms. I’m probably a little too forceful because Ronan lets out a painful grunt as I collide with him and his still-not-fully-healed chest. But he nonetheless drops his crutches and wraps his arms around me, leaning against the wall for stability as he holds me tightly against him.

It’s really the first time I’ve been able to hug him in six weeks. I inhale him, closing my eyes as I feel his warmth and, for a moment, the weight of the last month and a half feels like it might crash in on me. Now that I’m finally back in his arms and feel the rise and fall of his chest against mine, his pounding heart, I realize just how close I came to actually losing him.

Before I can go further down that road, Frank clears his throat, bringing me back to the now. I pull back a little from Ronan, blushing when I become aware of the presence of Steve, Shane, and Ronan’s dad.

“Way to ruin the moment, Dad,” Ronan chuckles, and the tension breaks.

“Welcome home, dude,” Shane says, giving Ronan a gentle hug. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” Ronan nods.

“Alright, bud, why don’t you go sit and rest a little? Shane, what are your thoughts on dinner?” Frank asks, and Frank and Shane start talking about grabbing food for dinner since Zack, Summer, Vada, and Tori should be here soon.

Steve takes Ronan’s bag upstairs while I pick up the crutches Ronan dropped and hand them to him so he can follow me into the living room.

When we round the corner from the hallway to the living room, Ronan stops, his eyes darkening. I recognize the look; I’ve seen it these past weeks whenever he’s on the brink of an anxiety attack. He’s getting triggered right now. His shoulders tense, his jaw tightens, and his breathing speeds up. He can’t seem to make himself move into the living room. He stands there, his eyes on the spot where his mother almost beat him to death.

“Ran?” I say, and cautiously move toward him. I expected some kind of reaction to him actually coming home, back to the place where his life almost ended. Luckily, my mom’s professional insight and the wisdom she’s shared with me over the last few weeks has prepared me for this moment. “Ronan,” I whisper again, trying to snap his attention back to me and away from the building panic.

He looks at me, his brows furrowed, body still tense.

“Come sit with me,” I urge softly, and I touch his forearm. My mom told me physical touch is a good way to help ground someone who might be having an anxiety attack, and she was right. Ronan seems to relax a little and he walks with me to the couch.

Onyx, not having realized her person had come home, freaks out, jumping off the couch with her tail wagging. She whimpers at Ronan, who carefully lowers himself onto the sofa before propping up his injured leg on the new coffee table. He pats the spot next to him for Onyx to jump up on. She doesn’t need to be asked twice and goes crazy sniffing Ronan, stepping all over him. He gets her to settle down next to him and then reaches his hand out to me. When I take it, he pulls me toward him, urging me onto the sofa, and I gladly comply. But he isn’t satisfied with me just sitting next to him and he pulls me onto his lap. I straddle him, my knees on either side of him, and I settle on his upper legs, careful not to add any weight anywhere near his knee. His left hand comes up under my chin, and he gently pulls me toward him until his soft lips meet mine.

I sigh deeply, feeling like I’m finally coming up for air after weeks and weeks under water. I part my lips to allow his tongue access, which he immediately takes advantage of and deepens the kiss. I’ve waited so long for this, and my pulse quickens as I push myself against him, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. His hands find my waist and he slowly glides them downward, first to my hips, then to my butt as he urges me even closer. I can already feel him swell, pressing between my legs, so I slowly grind my hips against him, causing him to groan against my lips.

“God, Cat, I’ve missed you so much,” Ronan says, his voice quiet and husky.

Heat and need rush to my core and my hands wander to the bottom of his hoodie, pushing it up so my fingers can feel the bare skin of his stomach just above his jeans. He follows my lead, his hands sliding underneath my shirt and up my back, leaving a tingly trail where his fingers touch my skin. His right hand rests on my back while his left moves around my ribs to my front. His thumb first outlines the bottom of my bra, then glides over the lacy fabric, grazing my nipple.

A delicious jolt of electricity zaps from my nipple all the way down to my core and between my legs. “Ran,” I moan. “I don’t think…” I trail off as his mouth leaves mine, kissing my jawline and then my neck. My head falls to the side, exposing myself to him, wanting more of him as my hips grind against him again. I can feel him rock-hard underneath me, his manhood straining against his jeans.

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