Page 120 of Edge of Unbroken

The sound of her voice sets off alarm bells in my head. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask sharply, tension seizing my muscles.

I hear her swallow, then attempt to clear her throat before she squeaks, “Nothing.”

“Bullshit, baby. What just happened?” I know something’s wrong. I’ve always been good at picking up on people’s energy, their posture, the tone of their voice—it’s a skill I had to learn from an early age—and whatever just happened, Cat’s not hiding it well. She’s obviously shaken. I can hear it in her inflection, the quick breath sounds whooshing into the phone, how much higher her voice is. It’s tight and panicky.

I’ve only ever heard her react this way one other time, exactly seven months ago to the day. Holy fuck. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Ran.”

The quiver in her voice, her tone strained like she’s desperately attempting to suffocate tears, causes an almost unbearable need to get back to her.

“Baby,” I start as calmly as possible. My heart’s pounding in my chest like it’s trying to break through my ribcage, and a sudden spike in adrenaline speeds up my breathing. “I’ve only ever witnessed you be this flustered one other time, and that was when you got a text from your ex...” I trail off, giving her every opportunity to tell me what has her so freaked out.

She still doesn’t say the words.

“Cat, is it Adam?” I finally ask, wishing, praying that she says “no,” that it's not that big of a threat to her safety.

But instinctively I know she’s going to respond in the affirmative. My heart drops into my stomach when a bloodcurdling, heart-wrenching sob echoes through the phone, the word “yes” buried in her cry.

I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, determined to remain as grounded as I can, even though angry flames lick at me, stoking a volatile rage I’ve only ever felt the one time Adam stalked Cat to New York, when he dared put a hand on her. “He texted you?” I ask, each word a punch, though the question sounds more like a statement.

“Yeah,” she whimpers, her voice quavering.

Images of Cat crying, her gorgeous hazel eyes full of despair, tear at my heart. I stand, pacing a restless back-and-forth pattern as I attempt to gather information, console her, and simultaneously figure out what to do about this piece of shit from thousands of miles away.

“Baby, please just talk to me, okay?” I urge softly, my voice soothing despite a blistering fury boiling in my chest, scalding my insides. It’s like I’m made of fire and lightning. “Is this… How long has this been going on?”

A ragged breath sounds through the phone, and I prepare myself for the inevitable. As much as I want her to tell me this is only the first time Adam has risked contacting Cat after I beat his ass, I have a strong feeling it isn’t.

“Since…”

Silence.

“Since when, baby?”

“Since you left for Montana.” A renewed cry makes its way into my ear and straight to my heart, squeezing it so tightly I can feel her pain.

I exhale deeply. So many thoughts race through my head, the most prevalent of them: why didn’t she tell me? But I know why. Because she didn’t want to burden me; didn’t want to worry me when she knew there was nothing, and I meannothingI could have done to stop Adam from terrorizing her. The thought alone threatens to take me down a fucking rabbit hole of guilt at my weakness, my god damn inability to keep her safe because I was barely even keeping myself alive, so I shut it down. I cannot allow my conscience to eat at me now; I have to focus on Cat, on what I have to do to make sure she’s safe.God, I’m going to kill this asshole.

“Does your mom know?” Fuck, how I wish I could pull her into my arms, or better yet, find this absolute low life of a human and end him andthenpull her into my arms.

Her wails are like razor blades cutting into my skin. “N… no.”

I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut as I rake my hand through my hair. I’m beside myself with worry for her and wrath at her ex. “Baby, you have to tell her! She knows Adam stalked you. You have to tell her,” I say. “You have to tell her he’s back. This—”

“I can’t, Ran,” she cuts me off, her voice raw, cracking, so full of pain. I detect shame, too, like I did when she first told me about Adam, when she told me about how she thought her drinking and flirting meant she had led him on and therefore was deserving of the abuse he inflicted on her.

“Yes, you can, baby. You have to!”

“No, Ran. No…” Another deep cry breaks from her chest.

I give us a moment—for her to quell her sobs, and for me to get control over my breathing.

“Why not, Cat?” I run my hand through my hair again. A profound sense of not being in control, of my inability to protect her, causes my skin to crawl with anxiety.

“Ran…” she cries.

My name on her lips, the tone of her voice—full of desperation, a cry for help—tears me apart. “Baby, please. Just talk to me! What’s going on? What is he doing to you?”

---