Page 70 of Tiny Fractures

I was right: failing to let my parents know I would be sleeping over at Shane’s, followed by not putting away all the laundry yesterday and the resultant telephone call with my mother didn’t go unpunished. Steve wasn’t home last night, and my dad had left for Germany just hours earlier, which created the perfect fucking storm.

When I got home from spending the afternoon and evening with Cat, my mother immediately cornered me in the hallway.

I could tell she had spent the last several hours stewing, getting more pissed off by the minute, and she didn’t hold back once she was finally face-to-face with me. She laid into me for a good ten minutes, screaming about what a stupid, disrespectful fuck-up I am, and reminding me over and over how worthless and irrelevant my life is. I didn’t say anything, didn’t defend myself. I could tell she was trying to get a rise out of me, to provoke me into talking back, which would give her a reason to punish me more.

She does that sometimes. She tries to pick a fight with me, to get me to overstep, and it works more often than I want it to, especially when she starts insulting things or people I really care about. It didn’t work last night, though, because I’m used to her personal attacks, used to her telling me what a worthless piece of shit I am. I’m so used to her words by now that they hardly make an impact. What did make an impact, though, was when she picked up one of her wooden clogs—shoes she wears to her job as a nurse—and began hammering it into my body again and again while she screamed at me. And, again, I didn’t defend myself. I let her beat me, taking the blows and the pain, until she abruptly decided it was enough. She dropped the shoe, told me to get the fuck out of her face, and walked back into the living room.

But all of this doesn’t matter. Not here, not now that Cat’s by my side, looking absolutely incredible in her tight black workout leggings and a racerback that keeps diverting my attention to her toned shoulders and the soft skin of her back. By the time we’re finished with our workout, Cat has worked up enough of a sweat that her skin glistens when the light hits it just right, and little beads of sweat roll down her delicate neck to her collarbone, then disappear under her shirt. She’s stunning with her damp shirt clinging to her body, and the primitive, irrational side of me wants nothing more than to pull her into the locker room, undress her slowly, caress her skin until she can’t take it anymore, and then thrust my dick inside her so I can feel her soft body.

“Stop drooling!” Shane purposely bumps into me and grins at having caught me checking out Cat for the millionth time.

“I don’t think I can,” I admit as I watch Cat put away the dumbbells she just finished using.

He nods at me approvingly. “I’m glad you went for it with her. You deserve good things, and judging by that look on your face, she’s good for you.”

I make a doubtful face. “Yeah, let’s just hope I’m good for her, too,” I say, picking up my own, heavier dumbbells.

“Stop overthinking and just enjoy this,” he scolds me. “Cat is smart; trust that she’ll tell you what she needs.”

Cat comes walking back toward me, and I swear, I still can’t believe I get to call her mine. She undoes her hair and shakes it out just to gather it back up and secure it on her head again. She is so fucking beautiful, both inside and out, and I’ve been attracted to her like a moth to a flame since the moment I laid eyes on her. If only I could allow myself to feel all of it, to live in the moment and forget about my demons.

But I push it all aside for the moment when Cat stops in front of me, smiling. I take in her face. Her hazel eyes are a deep green in the late-morning light, gold flecks speckling her irises. She has freckles on her nose and cheeks, which are flushed from the physical exertion, and her lips are full and so irresistible that I take her right hand, pull her toward me, and kiss her without regard for who’s around us.

Her lips are soft as she kisses me back. She parts them so I can slip my tongue into her mouth and taste her like I’ve been starving. If it weren’t for Zack’s wolf whistling, I would be happy kissing her without end.

We break apart slowly, and I smile when I notice Cat’s glossed-over eyes. Her lips are still slightly parted, not ready for me to stop tasting her. I stroke her cheek with my left thumb. Her eyes close under my touch, and my heart hammers in my chest as it threatens to break apart over this girl. I know there is no turning back with her.

“So, what now?” Vada asks, sounding decidedly winded.

“We fuel,” Shane proclaims, and both Vada and Cat raise their eyebrows. “We go eat,” Shane clarifies, then grabs his backpack off the floor and swings it over his shoulder before marching out to the parking lot.

We decide to head to Murphy’s for lunch, and Vada throws me a dirty look when Cat asks her if she would be upset if Cat rode with me.

“Already choosing your boytoy over your friend. I see how it is. Apparently sisters before misters means nothing to you,” Vada accuses Cat, who immediately looks guilt-stricken. “No, Kitty Cat, I’m totally joking. Of course, I’m cool with you riding with Ran; I honestly didn’t expect anything else,” Vada assures Cat, whose expression changes to relief.

“Be nice,” I scold Vada, and I take Cat’s hand in mine to lead her around to the passenger side of my car, where I open the door for her.

“Or what?” Vada challenges me as Cat gets into my car and I close the door behind her.

“Or I’m going to tell your dad where you really spend your nights.” I grin at her and get into my car before she can find the right words to protest. She stands with her mouth open, shocked that I would threaten to disclose her secret like that. Of course I would never actually do it, and Vada knows as much, but it’s a good threat to keep her from going overboard. Vada tends to speak first and think later—no filter, as Steve likes to say—which can be good, but she can also hurt people with her silver tongue.

As soon as I get into my car I take Cat’s hand, no longer worried about being too obvious or coming on too strong. I know our feelings for each other are mutual. I move her hand and rest it on the gear stick, then place my own hand on top of hers, allowing me to feel her skin while I drive. She has a smile on her face the entire drive, which is decidedly too damn short, and I wish I could spend more alone time with Cat right here, right now.

It’s eleven-thirty when we walk into Murphy’s, and the place is already busy with the usual weekend brunch crowd. I don’t usually work the day shifts since Shane typically closes and likes it when I’m around to help him shut the place down. Plus, during the school months working during the day is obviously impossible, so I’ve been working after class and hockey practice, mostly to get out of the house.

I wouldn’t really need to work if I didn’t want to. My dad transfers money into Steve’s and my bank accounts monthly, but it’s another way to avoid being at home and getting into sticky situations. And the extra cash doesn’t hurt. I’ve been saving; I’m dead set on getting far away from here the second I graduate.

My ideal plan would be to get a full-ride scholarship to some college. My parents make good money, but we’re not wealthy by any means, and I’m not sure they would be able—or willing—to pay for out-of-state college tuition. My mom has already made it blatantly clear that I’ll be on my own once I turn eighteen, and honestly, that’s fine with me. I hate that I’m not yet of age, that I don’t really have a choice than to stay in that damn house until I graduate in May—not if I want to ensure that my secret stays nice and hidden. No one knows what my mom does to me. Well, with the exception of Shane and my ex-girlfriend, Miranda. But Shane doesn’t know the full extent of things, and Miranda lives in Montana—or at least she did when I was there two years ago. I had heard she left the state soon after I moved back to New York, and I haven’t had any contact with her since I was fifteen.

If I can’t get into a college with a good scholarship, I guess I’ll figure out something else, but regardless of what that something else is, I’ll move far away from that hellhole the minute I’m able. That’s if I survive the next twelve months.

I’m already dreading this next school year. Steve is moving up to Boston at the end of August to attend college, and as I don’t see my dad’s work assignment changing anytime soon, it means it’ll only be my mother and me at home—a perfect recipe for disaster. Just thinking about it makes my chest constrict.

Once we make it to Murphy’s, the six of us walk to our table in the back of the pub, and I let go of Cat’s hand, allowing her to slide into her chair before I sit down next to her. I stay close enough that her shoulder brushes against mine as she reaches for the menu, and I flinch as pain shoots down my arm. My mother’s beating last night left some gnarly bruises on my left side, and my shoulder is pretty banged up. She ended up taping it. She does that all the time, doctors the injuries she inflicts on me.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Cat asks with a guilty look.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say quickly.

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