Page 13 of Edge of Unbroken

Thomas howls a laugh. “Twenty grand? You’re kidding, right?”

“Not really. You can probably find some stuff used and in good condition, but machines can be kind of pricey.”

Thomas snorts another incredulous laugh as he looks around the table.

But Martin comes to my aid. “We could probably swing that,” he says with an encouraging nod.

Martin and Erin met when she was studying business marketing at the University of Montana. Martin used to be a college lacrosse player and is originally from Michigan. I’m not sure he ever envisioned moving to a ranch in Montana and spending the rest of his life running numbers related to cattle and vacation rentals, hardly ever leaving the wide-open range and experiencing city life again. I know he loves his family, but I bet he misses certain luxuries, like a movie theater that’s less than a two-hour drive away, eating at a nice restaurant, or going to a gym to throw around some weights.

“I mean, if you think it would be something we could offer our guests to make their stay more enjoyable and we can squeeze it into the budget,” my grandmother starts, and looks at my grandfather with what I imagine is her most charming expression.

I can’t help but grin at Thomas, exaggeratedly dropping my utensils on the table and crossing my arms in front of my chest. Victory.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Thomas asks, taken aback.

“Why are you so against this idea? A gym would benefit you, too,” I say, patting my stomach with my hand, referring to Thomas’s rather soft midsection with another sly grin.

“You always have been and forever will be a pain in my ass, Ran,” he grunts, actually making me laugh, which still feels so foreign.

Thomas has lived with my grandparents since he was eighteen. My dad was twelve when my grandparents took Thomas in. Thomas was battling drug addiction and had been homeless for six months by then. To say that my grandparents have a huge heart would be an understatement. They always open their hearts, arms, and even home to people, happily donating their time and resources to anyone in need. And so, when they found out a kid was regularly coming to my grandparents’ church to eat lunch and was apparently sleeping in the streets, my grandparents took him in. They got him treatment for his drug habit, gave him a place to live, and allowed him to earn his keep.

Thomas has never left. He’s my grandfather’s right hand on the ranch—especially after my dad left at just sixteen—and is basically part of the family.

He comes across as a complete grump, rarely ever cracking a smile. But despite his tough exterior, Thomas has always had my back, has always gone above and beyond for me, no questions asked. And when I finally managed to get out of bed and first started to help him and my grandpa around the ranch, he actually pulled me into a hug and held me tightly for a long moment—not saying a single word yet relaying so much—before he let me go, clapped me on my shoulder with a nod, then got back to work.

“Ran’s not wrong,” Erin says with a light laugh. “Dad, I think it’s a great idea.”

“I see, my opinion doesn’t count,” Thomas scoffs.

“It counts when it’s a good opinion,” I say dryly, earning yet another dismissive grunt from him.

“And you think this’ll be good for business, huh?” my grandfather says.

I detect a note of suspicion in his tone. He’s so observant, I wouldn’t be surprised if he saw straight through me. I mean, do I think a gym would be a great addition to my grandparents’ guest ranch? Absolutely. Is that the only or even the biggest reason I suggested it? Obviously not.

“Fine,” my grandfather relents with an amused chuckle. “This is your project, Ran. All yours. Get with Erin and Martin and figure it out. But this won’t interfere with your work, got it? Get Thomas to help you clean out the shop.”

Thomas’s head snaps up. “What? How do I always get roped into your crap, Ronan?”

I laugh. “Ah, don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“You’re going to be the death of me one day. The shit I do for you, kid,” Thomas says, chuckling now.

“It’s because you love me,” I say with a grin, and Thomas just rumbles at me before he continues eating his lunch. “And speaking of people loving me.” I direct my attention to my grandma next to me. “When you talk to my dad, can you please ask him when I can go home?”

“You ain’t going nowhere until you complete your pet project,” Thomas grumbles. “Ain’t no way you start shit like a gym and then leave only for me to finish it.”

My grandpa, Martin, and Erin laugh, but my grandma studies me intently. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up just yet, baby boy.” She moves her hand across my cheek, stroking it softly. “I think you still have a long ways to go before it’s safe to send you back. The last thing we want is you barely breaking the surface of recovery only to have you plummet right back into darkness.”

Thursday, December 23rd

Ronan

My grandmother was right, of course. I’ve barely begun to emerge from the sticky tar that’s been holding my psyche hostage for months now.

The constant work and movement keep my mind busy, and I feel okay until it gets quiet in the house, until I’m in my room, until my body comes to rest and my head has a moment to catch up. And it always catches up. I no longer sleep away the day like I did the first weeks after my arrival, but most nights I still wake up drenched in sweat, heart beating frantically in my chest, though my grandparents have to pull me back into consciousness less frequently. For the past few days I’ve been mostly able to wake up by myself, only rarely interrupting my grandparents’ sleep with my nightmares. So I guess that’s another positive development, and it’s definitely something I’ve been relaying to Doctor Seivert, who still has me on a strict routine.

Tuesday and Thursday are my therapy days, and every session for the past three weeks I’ve brought up my desperation to talk to Cat, Shane, my brother, my friends, none of whom I’ve been allowed to speak to since leaving New York back in October.

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