Page 3 of Edge of Unbroken

School has been less than enjoyable for me these past few months. Since the start of my senior year at the end of August—when Ronan was in the hospital, in a coma—rumors about what happened to Ronan have been stubbornly persistent. Most everyone is aware he got hurt somehow, though no one, except those of us closest to him, know the exact circumstances behind Ronan’s lengthy hospital stay and his subsequent, rather sudden departure from New York.

Ronan missed roughly two months of school, then attended classes for only two weeks before Frank yanked him out and sent him to Montana to recover not only from his physical injuries, but the emotional pain of his mother’s lifelong abuse. Even during the two weeks Ronan attended school with the rest of us, it was clear he wasn’t doing well. He rarely was able to make it through an entire day of classes, frequently having to leave after the second or third period when his body and mind became too tired to sit and focus for hours. He just wasn’t in a place to do anything but try to heal. All that, however, and our consistent unwillingness to fill people in on what truly happened to Ronan, has provided the perfect fodder for outrageous rumors about Ronan and his relationship with me—which is, by now, very public information.

The most stubborn rumor is that our summer fling turned dangerous when Ronan had to defend me from another guy and got his ass kicked so severely that he hovered on the brink of death, and the real reason Ronan left is because his parents sent him away to keep him safe. I guess that rumor is at least partially true—the part about Ronan defending me from another guy—though one is obviously not even remotely related to the other. Whatever the rumor is, though, I’m usually somehow to blame for Ronan’s injuries, and I deal with more than my fair share of nasty looks and whispers whenever I walk down the school halls. Life is just… draining right now.

I hang up my coat and make my way into the kitchen. “You’re home early.”

“My last patient cancelled, so I thought I’d run some errands. How about lasagna for dinner?”

“Sure,” I say, and fill a glass with water to take up to my room.

“Great. I’m going to run to the grocery store,” my mom says, already on her way out the door.

Up in my room I change out of my jeans and t-shirt and into my pajama bottoms and Ronan’s hoodie. Even though it was freshly laundered when I borrowed it and has since been washed, I still catch traces of his scent in the fibers as I bury my face in the soft fabric. I sigh deeply, the ache of missing Ronan so pronounced and getting stronger each day.

I pull out my phone and text Ronan, knowing full well that, even though his phone is with him in Montana, he doesn’t have access to it. It’s apparently under lock and key until the therapist gives the word, which I hope will be any day now. But I figure, if and when he gets his phone back, he’ll have all these mushy messages from me he can read through, and maybe that’ll provide him some comfort.

Me:

I can’t believe it’s December. It’s snowing outside. Steve told me you guys are already snowed in, so today’s snow made me think of you. But then again, everything makes me think of you. I can’t wait to hear your voice. I miss you, but I love you even more.

I set my phone down and grab my copy ofWuthering Heights. I have a report due on it the Friday before Christmas break and am slowly struggling through the book. I just haven’t been in the mood to read a love story.

My mom returns from her trip to the store an hour later. I decide to help her unpack the groceries, welcoming the excuse to put down the novel.

“How about I grate the cheese?” I say as I walk into the kitchen.

“That would be perfect.” My mom sets a sizeable block of gouda on the counter and smirks at me. “I see you’re wearing Ronan’s sweater again.”

“It makes me feel closer to him,” I say with a small shrug and open one of the kitchen drawers to retrieve the cheese grater.

“I get it,” she says, bustling about the kitchen. “Use up all the cheese, please. We’re going to have some company.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “Who?”

“I ran into my very best friend from high school while I was at the grocery store,” my mom says. “I haven’t seen her inyears! We both moved away after high school, and then, boom, I just ran into her. I can’t even believe it. Anyway, I invited her and her boyfriend to have lasagna with us tonight.”

I smile at my mom’s happiness. “That’s awesome,” I say, and get to grating the cheese while my mom makes the sauce for the lasagna. Once that’s done, I begin layering the sheets of pasta and sauce, topping everything off with mounds of cheese and sour cream.

“What time is your friend getting here?” I ask when my mom slides the lasagna into the oven.

“Should be any minute now.” She wipes her hands on a dish towel. “I told her five-thirty would be good so we can chat a little bit before we eat.”

“Do you want me to change?” I’m comfortable in what I’m wearing, but I want to make a good impression.

“No need, sweet pea. Stay the way you are. You’re always beautiful, even when you look homeless.”

“Hey, I don’t look homeless,” I protest, but laugh. “I’m going to at least put on some jeans, but I’m not taking off Ran’s sweater.” I skip up the stairs to my room. It takes me exactly a minute to get out of my PJ bottoms and back into my jeans.

The doorbell rings just as I step off the staircase to head back into the kitchen. “I’ll get it,” I call out.

My heart stops and I inhale sharply when I open the front door and Frank is standing on the stoop.

My palms are instantly clammy. “Is Ran okay?” is the first thing out of my mouth. Has Frank come to tell me that something terrible happened, like police do when they share bad news with family?

“Cat!” Frank is obviously surprised to see me. “Uh, yeah, Ran’s fine. I mean, yeah, he’s okay. Wait, are we at the right house?”

It’s only then that I notice Frank’s girlfriend, Penny, standing right next to him.

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