Page 51 of Edge of Unbroken

It’s the dead of night when I’m awoken by taps on my bedroom window. A quick look at the digital alarm clock that’s adorned my bedside table since I was ten years old tells me it’s close to one in the morning. I groggily roll out of bed before wandering over to the window.

I open my window and stick out my head just in time to get a pebble to the forehead.

Miranda busts up laughing. “Oh my god, Rony,” she squeals as quietly as possible. My grandparents’ bedroom window is right underneath mine. “I’m so sorry,” she wheezes, doubling over.

“Yeah, you sound like you’ve never been sorrier in your life,” I say, rubbing my forehead.

“I didn’t think you heard me, so I thought I’d throw another rock,” she breathes through her laughs. “Will you… will you just come down, please?”

“Randi, it’s one in the morning.” My breath comes out foggy against the freezing air and I have goosebumps all over my bare upper body.

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” She’s alluding to the last time I was in Montana when this was exactly what we’d do. She’d drop by randomly in the middle of the night and I’d often end up sneaking out with her to do god knows what. “Come on, for old time’s sake,” she goads, squinting up at me.

I sigh, duck back into my room, and shut the window. I’m dressed in less than five minutes and slowly creep downstairs where I pull on my jacket and boots, then quietly slip out of the door.

I find Miranda where I’d always find her after she woke me—sitting in her Chevy parked by the barn—far enough from the house that my grandparents don’t hear her rolling up—singing along to some country song—and I slide into the passenger seat, slamming the heavy truck door closed behind me.

I look at her expectantly. “Where to?”

She just grins and shifts the truck into drive. We don’t travel far—maybe ten minutes from my grandparents’ ranch—and I recognize the spot immediately. She shuts off the ignition and turns to me, her eyes glinting with their usual mischievousness.

I chuckle quietly. “You’re so proud of yourself right now, aren’t you?”

“Kind of,” she says. “So, you remember this place?”

Of course I remember it. I’ve been to this lake many times, both with and without Miranda. It’s one of my favorite spots in this world. It’s nestled amongst a patch of dense woods, and I’ve ridden here to escape the house when I was younger. I’d sneak away and hide here when I needed some time to think or wanted to do things I knew I’d get in trouble for.

“How could I forget this spot,” I say, and give her a half smile.

“It’s where I took your virginity,” Miranda says with a playful grin.

“I remember,” I chuckle. It happened just days after I turned fourteen when Miranda and I were hanging out by the lake one afternoon. I didn’t see it coming, but I obviously didn’t say “no” when she just… took matters into her own hands.

“You were so innocent, Rony,” she says. “And so, so bad at it.” She starts to laugh.

I shrug. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly have a lot of experience at fourteen.”

“That’s an understatement,” she says, gasping for air as she holds her sides, in stitches from laughing so hard. “But hey, you learnedreallyquickly.” She stops laughing, her eyes focused on me, pupils widening as she draws her bottom lip between her teeth. Oh shit, I recognize that look. “And you got really good, really fast.”

She puts her hand on my knee, gliding it up my thigh an inch, and I tense. I have a pretty good idea what Miranda’s end game is tonight. After all, this is how it usually went the last time we were together—she’d wake me, then we’d either sneak out or she’d climb in through my window, and we’d inevitably have sex.

“God, I still remember that one time we did it in your grandparents’ barn after the fall festival…” She blushes, giving my leg a little squeeze.

That’s a new one for me. Miranda doesn’t blush, and the pink hue on her cheeks, illuminated by the light of the truck cabin, makes my heart ache painfully for the girl who blushes so easily, so perfectly, and who’s all the way back in New York. I have to stop this before Miranda gets any ideas. Things are different now.

I move Miranda’s hand off my leg and she studies me, analyzing my face. “Sorry, Randi, but…” I want to let her down easy. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but she needs to understand that there’s not a chance we’ll hook up again.

She nods knowingly. “There’s a girl… and you’re in love with her,” she states rather than questions.

“Very much,” I say, holding Miranda’s gaze.

She nods again, a flicker of disappointment mixed with embarrassment crossing her face. “Sorry, Rony, I didn’t mean to overstep. If I had known, I wouldn’t have—”

I hold up my hand. “It’s fine. You couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me about her. Is she here?”

“No, she’s at home, in New York,” I say with a heavy heart.

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