Page 25 of Edge of Unbroken

“Not really; I think I like the drug research aspect of it. But I have no clue. My mom said she wouldn’t be surprised if I changed my major nine times. That woman has no faith in me,” Julie says with an eye roll that makes me laugh. “How about you?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I was thinking…” My phone starts buzzing in my bag, interrupting my thoughts. “Hold on.” I get up and rummage through my bag. It takes a few seconds for my fingers to find my phone. I don’t recognize the number displayed on my screen. It’s an unfamiliar area code, and right on cue my heart picks up its pace, beating at three times its normal speed while my hands take on that cold, clammy quality like they do whenever I get anxious or scared. It’s no wonder, I guess, considering the months of random terrorizing phone calls from Adam, the blackmailing and threats. And even though I haven’t heard from him in a few weeks now, I don’t truly feel safe.

“You gonna answer that?” Julie asks.

My eyes are still glued to my phone’s screen, my thumb hovering as I try to decide whether to hit the red button or answer the call.

It’s funny how rapidly your mind analyzes information—wavering between choices, calculating risks in a matter of seconds. If I hit the hang-up button, I’d send the call to my voicemail, and the caller would know they’ve indeed reached me—Cat—because it’s obviously still my voicemail. It’s still me telling the caller that they missed me, that they should leave me a message. If I send Adam to voicemail, he’ll know I haven’t changed my number. God, so dumb.

But there’s a spark of hopefulness when I realize that Adam, thus far, has always called me from an unknown number. No digits would show up at all.

“Okay,” I whisper to myself, noting the slight tremble of my thumb when I decide to answer the call after what feels like half a lifetime. I figure if it’s Adam, I’ll immediately hang up and block him. At least this time I’d finally have a number to block.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice quieter than usual, my eyes squeezed shut. They fly wide open again, my heart—pounding furiously only a fraction of a second ago—skipping a few beats when I hear the one voice I’ve been dying to hear for exactly sixty days now, the one voice I’d know anywhere, would be able to detect in a noisy room full of people.

“Hey baby,” Ronan says, that deep, gravelly voice of his flowing into my ear. An indescribable feeling of peace, contentment, and wholeness blooms in the center of my chest, spreading through my veins, and it’s like a warm blanket envelops me.

“Hi. Oh god, Ran, I miss you!” I whimper, needing him to know how desperately, how terribly I yearn for him. My eyes sting with tears of happiness at hearing his voice, but also of longing for him. His physical absence from me is suddenly so pronounced. Julie just grins at me before I leave the bedroom and walk into the small adjacent bathroom. I close the door behind me to speak to the boy I love more than anyone or anything in private. I want him all to myself, want to give him my undivided attention for however long I’ll get to speak to him.

“Cat, you have no idea how much I miss you. Please tell me you haven’t run off with some other dude yet,” Ronan says with a small groan. I can tell he’s only half-joking, but it makes me laugh through the tears rolling down my cheeks.

“Are you kidding? Like fifty dudes,” I joke.

He huffs. “I fucking knew it.”

I laugh even more. “I love hearing your voice,” I tell him. I wipe a happy tear from my cheek.

“And I love you,” he says, unwavering.

I choke back a sob. “I love you, too. So much. How are you feeling?”

“Right now I feel like my heart might give out because I’m so damn excited to talk to you.” I wish there was a way for me to crawl through that stupid phone and into his arms. “I swear I just hung up on my dad,” Ronan chuckles, which is such a lovely sound, tickling my insides. It’s been too long since I’ve heard him laugh, even when he was still here with me.

I want to keep him talking. “Why?” I close my eyes as I listen to him, pretending to be sitting right next to him, almost able to feel the warmth radiating off his perfect, muscular body.

“He just called. I mean, I haven’t been allowed to talk to anyone, even him,” Ronan tells me, and I nod. This part I’m obviously and painfully aware of. “Fuck, I don’t know that I’ve ever been so excited to talk to my dad,” he says, letting out a quiet chuckle, making me smile. “Anyway, we talked for like five minutes before he told me I could call you and I was basically like, ‘Well, okay then. Bye dude,’ and hung up on him to call you.”

I laugh at Ronan’s description of his first phone conversation with his dad in months. “No, you didn’t.”

“Oh yeah, I did. I have my priorities.” His voice sounds lighter than it did the last time I got to talk to him, the last time I saw him and witnessed the hope, the strength, the will to live vanish from his beautiful green eyes. It’s devastating to recall the way Ronan looked only two months ago—emotionally broken, defeated, shattered after enduring years of abuse culminating in a violent cataclysm that left Ronan’s spirit in ruins, even while his physical injuries were healing beautifully.

"Speaking of your dad, I have to tell you something.” I tell him about my mom running into Penny at the grocery store a few weeks ago and how it turns out she and my mom were high school besties and now my mom is friends with Ronan’s dad.

Since my mom’s accidental but joyous reunion with Penny earlier this month, my mom and Penny have seen each other every weekend when Penny was in New York to spend the days with Frank. Penny and my mom speak two or three times a week, seamlessly picking up their friendship where it left off after my mom and dad eloped to North Carolina after graduating from high school nineteen years ago.

“Huh,” Ronan says when I finish my story. “Small world. How do you feel about our parents being… friends?” I detect unease in his voice. It occurs to me then how wary he is of the world, how much he needs to relearn to trust even his own dad.

“I don’t really know. I mean, I like that I get more updates on you, I guess,” I admit, shrugging to myself. Truth is, I haven’t given much thought to how truly incredible this coincidence is—the fact that my boyfriend’s dad, stationed in Virginia—a place some three hundred and eighty miles away from New York—would have an affair with a woman who was my mom’s long-lost best friend from high school. But life is nothing if not full of coincidences. Or maybe it’s fate?

“You get updates on me?” Ronan asks, surprised.

“Well, duh! I wouldn’t know how to make it through the day without asking Steve if he’s heard anything about how you’re doing. I mean, your dad is closest to the source because, I guess, he talks to your grandparents every day and he talks with your therapist a couple of times a week, but Steve gets the lowdown and then he passes it on to me and Shane and Vada. So now, whenever my mom sees or talks to Penny, I always ask her to get the scoop for me on you,” I say. “Wait, is that weird?” I suddenly feel self-conscious.

There’s a heavy silence on Ronan’s end before he exhales deeply. “Baby, I love that you’re getting updates on me. I wish I could hear what you’re up to. I feel so isolated. I constantly worry that you’re forgetting about me.”

I can hear the sadness in his voice. “I will never forget about you.Ever,” I say, emphasizing the last word. “I think about you all the time. I miss you so deeply, Ran. So, so deeply. It’s… it’s so bad that I stole some of your sweaters from your house,” I admit sheepishly, feeling that familiar heat creeping up my neck—the precursor for my cheeks blushing. I still hate how easily my face gives me away.

“You what?”

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