Page 131 of Edge of Unbroken

“Holy shit,” I said, fully expecting my grandmother to protest my word choice, but she just smiled at me.

***

My return trip home couldn’t have been more different from the plane ride to Montana five months ago. When I left New York, I lived in a constant state of exhaustion. I was a damn zombie. Yesterday, I was hyper. As soon I spotted the city underneath me out of the plane’s window, I could hardly sit still. It was a mixture of excitement and anxiety, and I tried to do all the breathing, the redirecting, the distracting that Doctor Seivert had been pounding into my head over the last seven months. I kept my eyes closed for the descent and the landing, my knee bouncing in anticipation of what was waiting for me.

Once landed, I grabbed my backpack from the overhead bin and made my way through the jet bridge and into the terminal, where it took me only a second to spot my dad. And, fuck, it felt good to see him. He met me halfway, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled me into a giant bear hug as soon as I was within reach, holding me for an uncomfortably long time, and he laughed when he felt me squirm, trying to move out of his hold.

I didn’t bring much with me to Montana to begin with. We quickly collected my duffel bag from baggage claim before making our way home. My dad and I chatted for a little bit in the car. He told me that he hadn’t told Steve I was coming home that day—surprise—and that Penny was at the house making dinner. I’m still not sure how I feel about her living with us, but I guess I’ll find out soon. He wanted to know about my flight and how I felt being home, commenting on how good I look.

“You’ve packed on muscle,” he said, giving my arm a squeeze. “I’m glad to see your clothes fit you again.”

“Yeah, Morai made sure I ate… a lot,” I told him dryly, making him laugh.

“I figured she would,” he said with a nod. “She was really worried about you when you got there. Well, we all were,” he added with an evaluative glance at me. “So, now what, kiddo? I got you home, even though I’m not sure you’re ready. What’s your plan?”

“I honestly don’t know, Dad. I just know I needed to come home. I can’t be away from Cat when there’s a chance her ex...” I trailed off.

He nodded. “That guy sounds like a real piece of work. I get why you want to be here, Ran. Jen told us he’s been extorting Cat.”

The thought that my dad’s girlfriend is best friends with Cat’s mom still boggles my mind.

“But Ran, your health, your recovery, thathasto take priority. Don’t do anything rash!”

I didn’t say anything. Truth is, whenever there’s a threat to Cat’s safety I seem to act before I think, and I wasn’t about to lie and tell him I’ll for sure keep a cool head if I come face to face with this asshole again. Hopefully it won’t come to a physical confrontation; maybe the cops finally find Adam and lock him up without him getting anywhere near Cat, but I’m not leaving things up to chance. Not when it comes to the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Traffic was typical for a Friday afternoon in the city, and I ended up falling asleep about twenty minutes into the car ride. I was exhausted, probably not just from getting up earlier than usual and the long trip, but also the pretty steady dose of adrenaline throughout the day.

I knew that coming home would mean I’d be exposed to things that could set me off without warning, and while I’ve been working on ways to ground myself, I was—and still am—terrified of what being back in the house might do to my nervous system. And I don’t even want to think about going to trial and facing my mother in a few weeks.

But the second I stepped foot into the house, it felt different from when I left. Maybe it was because my dad had actually been living there; maybe it was because of Penny and the energy she brought to the home; or maybe it was a combination of both. I have no idea, but the panic I thought would crash into me the moment I walked into what used to be my own personal hell didn’t come. It’s hard to explain, but it felt like there was life in the house.

I had always worked on keeping the house tidy, never leaving a mess because messes gave my mother a reason to punish me. Shoes were always neatly stacked in a shoe rack, and there was never a dish in the sink longer than the five minutes it took to wash, rinse, and dry it. The floors were clean, and the laundry was mostly done. Not that it mattered. My mother still found reasons to pick it apart. But when I stepped into the house last night, it looked and felt lived-in. I saw shoes lined against the wall, a woman’s purse hanging next to a light coat on the hook of the coat closet door, and unopened mail sitting next to a set of house keys atop the small sideboard underneath the hallway window.

“Hi Ronan,” Penny chirped from the kitchen, and she quickly came to meet us in the hallway. It was weird to see her kiss my dad. She hesitated before giving me an awkward hug. “You look great,” she said, her voice light, almost melodic, before turning toward my dad. “Perfect timing, dinner’s ready,” she said and walked back into the kitchen.

I watched her walk, analyzing her features.

She’s so unlike my mother. Penny’s long hair is dark brown, matching her dark eyes, and she’s petite, maybe 5’2”. Her face is heart-shaped, and her eyes are soft and hold warmth. She walks softly, too, unimposing, unthreatening. Her voice is harmonious. She seems genuinely nice, but what’s more is that it’s fucking obvious that my dad is head over heels for her.

I watched him follow her into the kitchen where he gently wrapped his muscular arms around her waist and buried his face in the crook of her neck. I couldn’t recall ever seeing my dad act like that with my mom. Penny looked even tinier in my dad’s arms, who at 6’5” towers over her, his sturdy, cut frame almost swallowing her.

The kitchen, too, had a completely different vibe. It almost gave me anxiety seeing the sweater hanging over the back of one of the chairs, various items strewn over the countertop, a few dishes stacked in the double kitchen sink.

“Hey, Dad,” I called into the kitchen from the hallway. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go upstairs and take a quick shower, okay?”

He gave me a once-over before nodding. “Sure, bud,” he said in his deep voice.

My room was almost exactly the way I left it five months ago, and my heart ached when I noticed the spot at the foot of my bed where Onyx would sleep—empty now. Guilt is something I still struggle with, and I feel weighed down by the fact that I wasn’t here with Onyx during her last days. She was my dog, after all, and I was her person. Then I left.

I dropped my duffel bag to the floor, then just stood for a moment, looking around my familiar surroundings. When it came to my house, I had always been safest right here in my room. My mother never hurt me in here. The violence was only ever inflicted downstairs. Maybe even she respected the sanctity of my bedroom.

I noticed my closet door and immediately smiled to myself. It was cracked open. When I opened it wider, I could tell that someone had rummaged through my clothes. I love that Cat was in here during my absence, that she touched my stuff, that she took some of my shirts to provide her with some comfort while I was gone.

Eventually I walked to the small Jack-and-Jill bathroom, chuckling at Steve’s stuff everywhere. Then I stood under the shower, head dipped down, hot water running down my neck and back for an eternity before I finally dried off, put on some sweatpants, and slipped into a fresh shirt. I smiled to myself when I remembered Cat sleeping in my shirts at night.

I made my way back downstairs where I joined my dad and Penny at the small dining table and ate the spaghetti Penny had made. I listened to the two of them banter about Penny’s new job at one of the neighborhood elementary schools.

After dinner, I went to do the dishes, but Penny absolutely refused and sent me upstairs to rest. I obliged and went to bed. The moment my head hit the pillow a grin broke across my face. I could recognize that scent anywhere, any time—rosewater and lavender. Cat must have lain in my bed while I was gone. Need surged through me, my fingers itching to call her and tell her I was home, that I’d see her in less than twenty-four hours.

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