Page 19 of Edge of Unbroken

I hope you have a good Christmas and New Year’s, sweet boy. I’m thinking of you constantly. I love you.

Cat

Holy fuck, my heart aches with how much I miss her. I read Cat’s letter twice more before I finally fold it up and put it back in its original envelope, which I slide under my pillow. I have no doubt I’ll read it several more times before I eventually fall asleep tonight. Maybe I should write her a letter, too. Why the hell didn’t I ever think of that?

I run my right thumb over the pendant on the necklace before I finally put it around my neck. It’s the first substantial, tangible thing to remind me of Cat in two months, and once again I frown at the fact that I’m not allowed to use my phone to call her or even just stare at pictures of her. It’s maddening. I spend a lot of time in the evenings lying awake and recalling Cat’s beautiful face in my mind’s eye. I try to picture her soft lips, the exact color of her hazel eyes, and the curves of her perfect body, how she smells and tastes, how damn soft she feels. That last part usually ends in me getting all worked up and having to relieve the pent-up tension.

“What did Frankie send you?” my grandmother asks from the kitchen when I make it back downstairs to the living room.

“It was a letter and a gift from Cat,” I say, smiling as I situate myself on the couch next to Erin and Riley, carefully propping my knee back up on a couple of pillows. I’m seriously considering grabbing some painkillers, or maybe at least some ice to get this throbbing under control.

My grandmother walks into the living room where she places a plate with Christmas cookies on the rustic wooden coffee table that forms the centerpiece of the large open living area. “I bet she misses you.”

I nod. “Yeah, and I miss her, too.” I admit with a sigh. “She sent me this.” I touch the necklace around my neck. “I left my necklace with her before I came to Montana, so, she got me this one with a pendant of Saint Raphael.”

“Oh, the patron saint of healing,” my grandmother exclaims, a huge smile on her face.

I nod again. “Yeah.”

“Gosh, I love that girl,” she says, her brown eyes warm.

“Me, too,” I say more to myself than anyone else. “I wish I could talk to her.”

Cat

My mom and I got to North Carolina on Wednesday to spend Christmas with my dad and siblings. My dad, as a teacher, is on winter break as well, and my mom closed her practice for a few days, though she’s always reachable for emergencies, which have already trickled in. She received a call from the wife of a patient right after breakfast today, and my mom quickly retreated into the small office my parents have set up in our four-bedroom home.

I’ve loved spending some time with my family and Julie, though admittedly I haven’t ventured farther than from my house to Julie’s—partially because I’m afraid of running into Adam or anyone even remotely connected to him, and partially because my dad has been almost stiflingly protective. It’s always “Where are you going? When are you coming home? Who will you be with?” and never “Have fun, Kitty. I trust you. I know you can take care of yourself.”

It’s been a leisurely day filled with a whole lot of food and time spent on the couch in the presence of my parents and siblings. Right now my dad, brother, sister, and I are spread out in the living room, my little brother cuddled up against me as we watch the same Christmas movie my family watches on Christmas Day every year. It’s our tradition. We spend the day dressed in our pajamas. My dad makes waffles for breakfast while my mom readies Christmas dinner, and then we hang out in the living room watching Christmas movies and talking, my younger siblings playing with their new toys here and there. Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays.

“Have I told you how Christmas-y you look today?” my mom says as she walks into the living room with a cup of coffee. She sits next to my dad on the sofa, leaning against him as he drapes his arm around her, pulling her close. “The red and green of your outfit are very festive.”

I smile, bunching the fabric of the sleeve in my fist, which is tucked into the sleeve. “Yep, Ran’s sweater makes the whole outfit.” I grin as I look down at the red pajama pants topped off by Ronan’s dark-green hooded sweatshirt.

My dad turns to me. “That’s your boyfriend’s sweater?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

It irks me that he doesn’t call Ronan by his name and just refers to him as my “boyfriend.”

I nod.

“Huh,” he grunts.

“What, Dad?” I sit up a little, and my brother grumbles as he adjusts his position on the couch.

My dad gives me a half-hearted shrug. “I just think maybe you’re moving a little too fast.”

My shields go up. “Ran and I have been together almost seven months now.”

My dad obviously knows about Ronan, knows how head over heels I am for him. He also knows what happened to Ronan—after all, my parents talk several times a day, and my mom has kept my dad well apprised of the situation. My dad has been skeptical of my relationship with Ronan from the beginning, telling me again and again during our occasional phone chats that I should take things slow and be careful. I know he’s still on edge after everything that happened with Adam not even a year ago, his violent outbursts, and his recent episode of stalking me in New York. I understand he’s worried about me and probably feels guilty that he was unable to protect me from Adam. I assure him, of course, that I’m fine and that Ronan is nothing but amazing. My mom does the same, but so far my dad hasn’t come around.

“Yeah, but he’s been away for a while, right? And he doesn’t really come from a good home, Kitty,” he says earnestly, a deep crease on his brow. “I worry about you.”

I don’t know how to respond to him and look to my mom for help.

“Bobby, Kitty’s fine. Ran’s a great young man,” she says.

He scoffs loudly. “May I remind you of our daughter’s last boyfriend? I told you right from the beginning that I didn’t like him, that I thought Cat was making a mistake by going out with him. I had heard about Adam’s escapades—the partying, the girls—but nobody listened to me. We let her walk right into that, and I’ll be damned if I let her walk right back into it again.”

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