Page 45 of Edge of Unbroken

“Will do. Don’t be a stranger!”

I leave the store, pulling the collar of my jacket up to cover the back of my neck, shielding it from the cold as I walk to the driver’s side of my truck.

“Oh. My. God. Ronan Soult,” I hear a familiar voice say behind me.

I turn around only to find my ex-girlfriend standing mere feet away from me. “Holy shit, Miranda.”

She chuckles at me and shakes her head, her hands on her hips. “Miranda? You never call me that. Am I in trouble?”

I smile at her. She hasn’t changed one bit since I last saw her two and a half years ago. She’s still tiny. I was always taller than her, but my growth spurt over the last few years has only added to our height difference. She’s more than a head shorter than me and barely reaches my shoulder.

Her petite frame is clothed in a perfectly fitting pair of light-blue bootcut jeans with a pair of jet-black boots peeking out on the bottom, and a black, stone-washed v-neck shirt, topped off with a lamb-fur-lined denim jacket. Her long, light-brown hair falls freely down her back.

“I heard rumors you were in town.” Her blue eyes glint mischievously, and I grin because it’s all so familiar.

Miranda and I dated pretty much the whole time I was in Montana. She was my first in a lot of respects, and even though she’s tiny in stature, she has a huge personality.

I raise my eyebrows. John made a similar comment. I wonder who in the world is talking about my return and why it would be of such interest. “Oh yeah? Who’d you hear that from?”

“People,” Miranda says vaguely. “You look good, Rony.”

I cringe. I’ve always hated that nickname. Miranda gave it to me when I was only ten, and I’m convinced that my obvious dislike for the moniker only emboldened Miranda in her use of it. That’s just her personality.

“Please don’t call me that,” I beg her.

She laughs at me. “If you call me Miranda, I’ll call you Rony.”

“Fine,Randi.” I chuckle. “What are you doing here?” I look around and spot her baby blue ’88 Chevy Silverado—her mom’s old truck—parked further down the road.

“I was just heading to Sterling’s for a quick bite to eat. How about you join me?” she asks, eyeing me from head to toe, a smile on her face. “I’d love to catch up.”

I shake my head. “I have to pick up some guests and then head back to the ranch.”

“Always such a good boy.” She smirks but wraps her arms around my neck and hugs me like we only saw each other yesterday. “I’ll see you around then, Rony,” she says—as usual ignoring my request to refrain from using that stupid cutesy name—and winks at me before stuffing her hands into her jeans pockets and walking away.

***

I get to the train station with thirty minutes to spare before the newlyweds’ arrival, so I lean my head against the headrest and close my eyes, allowing myself to doze off until the trail pulls in.

I stay in the truck where it’s nice and warm and watch a few people disembark the train.

It’s immediately obvious who Tensley and Devin are because they’re the only young couple coming off the train, and I’m secretly glad I don’t have to stand around holding that damn sign like an idiot.

They step out of the train holding hands while Devin drags a giant suitcase. I open the door, get out of the truck, and trudge toward them. They look woefully underdressed for the frigid Montana weather. I wonder how “outdoorsy” they truly are.

“Devin and Tensley?” I call out to them.

Both heads turn toward me.

“Yeah, hey dude,” Devin says, parks his suitcase next to him, and holds up his hand as a greeting. Devin is dressed in jeans and a hoodie with a black puffer vest over it, a slouchy beanie on his head. Tensley, on the other hand, sports ripped jeans and a matching jean jacket over a cropped pullover. Her wavy brown hair frames her face. Her cheeks are already turning red from the cold.

“Hey, I’m Ronan. I’m parked just over there.” I nod toward the truck, and Tensley looks grateful she won’t have to be out in the cold for too long. “I got this.”

I grab Devin’s fancy, hard-shell suitcase and pick it up to carry it to the truck rather than roll it through the watery sludge on the train platform.

I open the tailgate, place the suitcase on the truck bed, then make my way around the truck and climb in. I’m surprised to find that Devin got into the passenger seat rather than sit in the back next to Tensley.

“Is it a long drive to the ranch?” Tensley asks once I pull onto the road.

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