Page 17 of Edge of Unbroken

If only I could see her. Hell, at this point I’d even settle for just hearing her voice. The only pictures I have of her are on my phone, which I haven’t had access to since I came to Montana.

I wasn’t aware of the restrictions Doctor Seivert would impose when I originally agreed to leave New York for a while, and only learned of my inability to talk to Cat, my friends, brother, or dad when I woke up the first morning back on the ranch. My phone was gone, confiscated by my grandmother, who—very gently and carefully—filled me in on what limits Doctor Seivert had placed on my communications with anyone from home. Let’s just say I took it less than well, but Doctor Seivert remained firm. And, honestly, I declined so drastically, sleeping twenty hours or more a day, that I didn’t have the energy to fight or probably even talk to anyone on the phone. I barely managed one-word responses, let alone full-blown conversations with my grandparents. I even missed a few therapy sessions because I couldn’t gather enough strength to do anything beyond breathe.

But things seem to be stabilizing a bit; I don’t feel so damn drained all the time now, although it’s clearly not enough for Doctor Seivert to let me have my phone back. So I try to recall Cat’s perfect face, her gorgeous body, her sweet voice, but I miss her more every day. I wish everyone understood how much Cat eases the load for me and that talking to her, I’m convinced, would help me heal rather than inhibit my progress.

And, yeah, I worry about what she’s up to. We haven’t been together that long—just under seven months—and a huge chunk of that time I was either incapacitated or gone. It would be laughable of me to say that I was a good boyfriend to Cat the last four months. And really, more than half of our relationship consisted of me being an even lesser version of the Ronan who somehow managed to convince this perfect creature that is Cat that I could be good enough for her, even as broken and fucked-up as I already was when we met.

Cat’s smart, funny, kind, and fucking stunning. I’ve seen the way guys look at her. I notice how she stops a room full of people when she walks in—all damn eyes on her. I can’t blame them. She’s just… She glows like she’s the sun herself. And I can drive myself mad with thoughts of someone vying for her attention—irrational, unfounded rage turning the world red whenever visions of some other guy touching Cat force themselves into my thoughts. I just hope that Shane, my brother, Vada, Tori, and my other friends keep an eye on things while I’m gone for who knows how long.

I really couldn’t fault Cat if she decided this was all too much for her. I’ve always known she’s too damn good for me, and I admit that a not-insignificant part of me believes what my mom told me time and time again—that sooner or later, Cat is going to figure out how worthless I am, will realize she deserves way better. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t completely own my heart and that I wouldn’t fight like hell to be with her.

After lying in bed a few minutes longer, thinking of Cat, I finally get under the shower, then get dressed and make my way downstairs where everyone else is already gathered for a giant breakfast spread.

“Ran, come with me, please,” my grandfather says after we eat. To my grandmother’s delight, I was able to force myself to eat everything on my plate. She takes my plate from me with a content smile before I follow my grandfather into the mudroom where we put on our boots and jackets.

“Were you able to get some rest last night?” my grandpa asks casually as we make our way outside and begin trudging through the snow, which still slows me down significantly.

“Yeah, I slept really well, actually. No nightmares,” I say, taking careful steps to avoid any wrong movement with my knee, or, worse, slipping and doing some new damage.

“I’m so happy to hear that, Ran. Come to think of it, I haven’t had to wake you from a nightmare in a few days now.”

I nod, not taking my eyes off the snow. “Yeah, I’m mostly able to wake myself up now, which is nice. I hate disrupting everyone’s night.”

Right before I left for Montana, the night terrors were so bad that my dad or Steve had to wake me several times a night. My dad would resort to sleeping on the floor next to my bed because there was almost no point in him crawling back into his own bed. We were all so fucking exhausted and the sleep deprivation was something else, causing me to fall asleep in class once I finally went back to school, to doze off when I was with Cat and my friends. It was almost impossible to concentrate.

Things have improved over the last couple of weeks. I still have nightmares, but not to the same extent, and I manage to come out of them myself a lot more frequently than before.

“I know, Ran. I know,” my grandfather says earnestly, patting my back. He comes to a stop and motions toward a brand-new, shiny-black Ford F-250 truck. “Merry Christmas.”

“What’s this?” I ask while my grandfather grins at me.

He holds his hand out to me with the truck keys dangling off his right index finger. “Your truck; figured you’d need one while you’re here,” he says with a clap on my shoulder. “This may also be Erin and your grandmother’s way of trying to convince you to stay forever, but you didn’t hear that from me,” he says with a low chuckle.

“Athair, this is too much,” I say as I pull open the driver’s-side door and let my eyes sweep over the black leather interior of the crew-cab. The truck smells like it just came from the factory, and I inhale deeply. Man, that new-car, clean-leather smell has always been one of my favorites. Until Cat came along. Her scent makes my senses go straight into overdrive.

My grandpa waves me off. “Nah, Thomas has been bugging me to get another truck, and now that you’re more mobile, I thought it would be a good idea. Got a great deal on it, too, so don’t overthink it,” he says dryly. “I promise, it’ll be put to good use while you’re gone and it’ll be all yours whenever you come to visit.”

Never in my life have I received a gift this big. Even my Mustang was paid for with my own savings—and three months’ worth of unpaid labor at Murphy’s—whereas Steve got his Challenger from my parents when we moved back to New York.

Christmas has never been big in my house. My dad was only home a couple of times, and my mom usually worked, so the last two years I’d spend the day with Shane’s family while Steve hung out with Zack and Vada. But Christmases were always nice whenever we lived in Montana. My grandmother and Erin would spend days decorating the main house, and the food my grandmother prepared was usually the best I’d eat all year.

***

“So, do you like your truck?” Erin asks me casually when I finally get back to the house at just after four in the afternoon. My grandfather and I spent much of the day dropping hay in various spots on the pastures since the thick snow blanket makes it impossible for the cattle to graze. By the time we walk back into the house, it’s dark outside and I’m freezing cold and achy.

“Fuck yeah, I love the truck,” I say wholeheartedly while I take off my muddy boots, still feeling weird as hell at having received such an outrageous gift from my grandparents.

“Ronan, language,” my grandmother calls from the kitchen where she’s in the process of peeling what appear to be several hundred potatoes for the Christmas dinner she’ll be serving in just a couple of hours.

“Sorry, Morai,” I apologize quickly, and make my way into the living room while Erin chuckles under her breath.

“Ran, why don’t I give you a quick haircut?” she says out of the blue, eyeing me from her spot on the sofa.

“That’s a fantastic idea,” my grandmother chimes in, peeking her head out from the kitchen, and I frown. “Your hair’s getting a bit shaggy, baby boy. And you could use a shave, too.”

“I don’t know,” I say, unconvinced. It’s not that my aunt and grandmother are wrong—my hair is getting too long. I usually keep it tightly cropped on the sides and the back of my head and neck, but I haven’t gotten it cut since before I came to Montana almost two months ago.

Part of the reason for my neglect is, of course, that we live pretty cut off from most everything and I had been too immobile to get to the nearest town an hour’s drive away to get a haircut. The other part is that, honestly, I barely managed to keep myself showered every day. It was a giant effort to drag myself out of bed, step under the shower, and brush my teeth. I did it, but it took everything out of me. I didn’t have anything left for anything else. Depression is a huge drain on energy.

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