Page 89 of Tiny Fractures

I change into my still-damp swimsuit before grabbing my toothbrush and crawling out of my tent to run off to the public bathroom, where I quickly scrub my teeth clean. When I reemerge, I make my way back to our cluster of tents and immediately spot Ronan, who’s talking with Shane, Tori, and Zack. He’s wearing only black board shorts that sit so low on his hips I can make out every single one of his abdominal muscles and that V-cut, which, like an arrow, leads downward. I know it wouldn’t take much for me to pull his shorts off him, exposing him to me completely. I wonder what he looks like naked? I felt him last night, felt his hardness when I pressed myself against him, and from what I can tell, he’s… well-endowed.

The sun kisses his skin, reflecting off his toned shoulders and arms. He notices me staring as I make my way toward him and he smiles. When I reach him, I run my hand up his bare chest, not caring that we’re not alone. He eyes my entire body, lingering on the exposed parts, and goose bumps erupt on my skin when he interlaces his fingers with mine.

“Zack thinks we underestimated the amount of food we’d need for the weekend, because apparently, we ‘scarfed like hungry wolves’ last night,” Ronan says, making air quotes. “So we may need to make a run into town a little bit later,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze, and I nod.

“Anyway, ready for a swim?” Ronan asks, nodding toward the ocean.

“Yes,” I say, and wave at Shane, Tori, and Zack as Ronan leads me to the water. He stops in his tracks just as we reach the shore, forcing me to turn around, and, without warning, he scoops me up, cupping my butt with his hands, and carries me into the ocean. I laugh loudly until the cold water licks at my feet. He keeps going, only stopping briefly to take in a sharp breath when the frigid liquid reaches his groin, then he dips down with me still in his arms. I squeal as he submerges us under the salty ocean water.

Still holding on to me, Ronan pulls me toward him, kissing me softly under water before letting go. We break the surface, our heads reemerging, and we both take a deep breath.

“God, you have no idea how perfect you are, Cat,” Ronan says, his eyes hooded. He reaches for me again, pulling me toward him effortlessly with one hand while he paddles with the other.

“I can say the same about you, Ran,” I say, and wrap my arms around his neck while winding my legs around his waist and crossing my ankles behind him.

He only shakes his head. “I’m waiting for the day you figure out I’m not good enough for you,” he says seriously before kissing me so deeply that I think my heart might give out.

I honestly have no idea where that just came from, why he said what he said, because I’ve never been happier in my life than I have this past month with him. “Ran,” I say when we finally break apart, “I don’t think you understand how happy you make me.”

I’m relieved to see some of the sadness that had temporarily resided in his eyes subside. “I seriously don’t deserve you, baby,” he says, and I wish he would stop talking to himself like that.

I put my finger to his lips. “You are so good to me,” I urge him, needing him to understand how safe I feel with him, how cared for, how loved, even though we haven’t actually uttered those words yet. “What you did last night, when you stopped—that meant so much to me,” I admit, memories of Adam’s violent outbursts running through my head. “Ran,” I say again, my voice steady, “I don’t know why you would think that you’re not good enough for me, but you are.”

I stare into his eyes and put my hand under his chin, forcing him to continue looking at me when he’s about to break eye contact.

“Whatever you say.” He smiles, apparently having decided not to go further down this dark path, and I exhale, relaxing into him. “But you do know that this position right here”—he motions his hand up and down our bodies—“makes things really hard. Literally.”

“Well, yeah, that’s sort of the point, isn’t it?” I ask, then laugh when his mouth drops open. I kiss his bottom lip before taking it between my teeth, eliciting a small moan from him. I love that I have that effect on him.

“Jesus, Cat. We’re going to have to take a break from this,” he groans. “I don’t trust myself right now.” He cups my butt again and trudges out of the water with me in his arms, our lips still tasting each other until he finally sets me down on the warm sand. “How about some breakfast?” he asks, and I nod. I didn’t realize how hungry I am, but now that he’s mentioned food, my stomach is positively growling.

Holding hands, we walk back to the cluster of tents. Ronan turns to take a towel, and my eyebrows knit together when I see two large, streaked bruises on his right side, just above his hip bone. Those are what I must have touched last night when I held on to his sides.

I take a step toward him as he turns back around, ready to wrap the towel around me.

“What’s wrong?” he asks at the look on my face.

“What happened to your back?” I ask him, my eyes wide, and it takes him a second to understand what I’m talking about.

“Oh, I tripped and fell backwards against the desk in my room the night before you came home,” he says, then drapes the towel over my shoulders.

“Those are some painful-looking bruises,” I say, craning my head to the side to look around him, eager to assess his injury more properly.

“Yeah, well, it was a pretty gnarly fall,” he responds, not looking me in the eyes. He takes my hand and leads me back to the logs surrounding the fire pit.

“You must be one of the clumsiest people I’ve ever met,” I opine, remembering his bruised and taped shoulder only a few weeks ago when he said he tripped over his dog. It’s odd, because he doesn’t appear clumsy at all. I’ve never seen him so much as stumble.

He only shrugs, but I can’t help but stare at his injury. The bruises are a deep, dark blue; they look almost like two rungs of a ladder: about four inches wide, an inch tall, and a couple of inches apart from one another. I make a mental note of their precise location so as not to dig my fingers into them again when he’s back in my tent tonight. At least, I hope he’ll be in my tent again tonight, and maybe even the night after that.

We walk the thirty feet to the fire pit and sit with our friends. Shane, too, asks about the bruises on Ronan’s back, and Ronan gives him the same response he gave me—that he tripped and fell backwards against his desk in his room.

“Huh,” Shane says, narrowing his eyes at Ronan, giving him this look that definitely has more meaning to it than I understand.

Ronan presses his lips together, but they don’t talk about it more, and we all turn our attention to breakfast. Zack and Drew cook bacon and eggs, and we devour our food, downing bottle after bottle of water.

“I’m so hungover,” Summer laments, pressing her right palm to her temple.

“Me, too,” Tori agrees, looking less pallid after having eaten her breakfast. “But last night was worth it.” She winks at Shane, who smiles broadly at her.

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