Page 61 of Tiny Fractures

I grab her hips and stand up, then set Cheyenne down in the chair and move away from her. She has a look of disbelief on her face as she gets up from the spot I put her in. She adjusts her skirt, pulling it down to cover herself. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking determined, though a bit unsteady on her feet.

“I don’t mean to be an ass, Cheyenne, but we should never have hooked up in the first place,” I admit, feeling like such a dick.

“Oh, okay. I guess it took you fucking me twice to realize that?” Cheyenne says with pain in her voice.

None of our friends are talking; their eyes are on us as they listen to this unfolding shit show.

I open my mouth to respond but feel my phone vibrating in my pocket with an incoming text message. When I pull it out, I see Cat’s name on the screen and my heartbeat quickens.

“You’re right, it was a dick move. It should have never happened,” I say, but turn away from her and our friends before she can say anything further. I start down the deck stairs and to the beach, where I open Cat’s message.

Cat: It was fine.

Even though I don’t have the benefit of hearing her voice, I have an immediate gut feeling that something isn’t right. It’s the way she describes her evening in the past tense and how short her response is. I should probably just ignore that feeling, pretend not to feel the unease making my scalp tingle; but ignoring vibes, words, and their meaning—no matter how subtle—isn’t something I do. My life, my circumstances have conditioned me to be alert at all times, consistently living in a state of awareness. So I don’t fight myself and simply dial Cat’s number.

It rings only once before she answers.

“Hi,” Cat answers, and her tone is immediate confirmation that my gut feeling was spot-on. Something’s wrong.

“Are you okay?” I hold the phone to my ear with my left hand while my right is stuffed into the pocket of my jeans.

“I’m fine,” she says, but she sounds tired and sad. “The party was just really uncomfortable and I’m glad to get out of here tomorrow.”

“Did anything happen?” I try not to press too much.

Cat hesitates before answering. “I ran into my ex-boyfriend.”

I stop walking. “Okay?” I urge.

“He’s kind of a bully, and he wasn’t very nice to me. So, I made Julie take me home.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” The last word slips out before I can stop it, startling me. God, fuck, I hope Cat didn’t catch that. “What did he do?” I ask, hoping to keep the focus on the topic of our conversation rather than my inadvertent term of endearment for her. I have no fucking clue where that came from. I’ve never called anyone “baby,” although I have to admit it feels kind of nice.

She doesn’t respond right away, and I worry she’s as startled by my pet name for her as I am. Shit, I hope I didn’t fuck things up somehow. “He was just… being himself, I guess. He’s an asshole. I don’t really want to talk about it right now,” Cat finally says.

I exhale deeply. “Yeah, okay,” I agree without hesitation, because I know exactly what it feels like to not want to talk about something, and I know how frustrating it is when you’ve made your wishes clear and people still try to get you to divulge painful or uncomfortable stuff you’re just not in a position to say out loud yet… or ever.

Cat hasn’t really talked about her ex-boyfriend before—she just mentioned that things ended badly—but from her brief mention of him tonight, it doesn’t sound as though he’s a pleasant guy.

“Are you sure you’re okay, though?” I double-check, unhappy that I can’t be there with her to provide comfort.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired. And I miss you,” she says in the sweetest voice that makes my heart beat furiously in my chest. I’m feeling very protective of her right now, and the fact that her ex messed up her night pisses me off to no end. “Will I get to see you tomorrow?”

The tone in her voice makes me want to be there with her right now. “Of course,” I say. “I can’t wait. What time are you getting in?”

“My flight gets in at noon. Do you have work or anything tomorrow?”

“No. Give me a call when you’re home and I’ll head right over.”

Cat sighs. “That sounds good.” Her voice sounds lighter now, and I hope I was able to take some of tonight’s stress off her shoulders.

“Try to get some sleep,” I urge her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We hang up, and I make my way back up the stairs and to the deck where Cheyenne is occupying the chair I sat in earlier. She refuses to make eye contact with me. So I sit down on the sofa next to Shane, who gives me a sympathetic shrug, grab the bottle of Jack sitting on the wooden floor boards, and take a gulp right from the bottle. The liquid burns as I work it down my throat.

“Who were you talking to?” Vada fires at me, eyeing me suspiciously.

I cock my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “Why do you care?” I shoot back.

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