Page 70 of Edge of Unbroken

I join in his laughter. “I do indeed feel powerful.”

“Well, Almighty Cat, you don’t need to ‘put him in his place.’ I think Ran seeks out exactly what and whom he needs most right now, which is very obviously you. I’m not going to impede his healing. If that means I can’t talk to him until he’s back home, so be it. Just tell him I miss him, I guess.”

Steve’s sweet words, the depth of the love for his brother, coat my insides like honey. “You’re a great big brother.”

A constricted grunt comes through the phone. “Could have been better,” he says, gritted. “Anyway, I’ll let you go so you can also be an incredible friend to Vada. Can you maybe text me later and let me know how she’s doing?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll talk to you soon, Stevie.”

***

I find myself at Vada’s twenty minutes later, knocking several times before she finally opens the front door.

She’s dressed in sweats, an oversized hoodie, slippers, and a robe. Her face is blotchy and tear-streaked, her eyes red and watery. “Aww, Vada,” I say, and pull her into my arms because there isn’t much else I can say or do. There’s not one thing, not one single word I could utter that would ease her pain, that would unbreak her heart right now.

The moment I wrap my arms around her, Vada dissolves into choked sobs and we just stand for a few minutes until I’m able to coax her back into the house and close the door behind me. I lead her to her room where I sit on her bed with her, allowing her to shed her tears, which ebb and flow as the time passes.

I speak to her quietly, reiterating my stance from last weekend. “You know it’s not because he doesn’t love you or you did anything wrong. He’s just struggling right now. He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“But it still hurts,” she croaks with renewed sobs.

“I know. I know,” I say, stroking my hand over her hair.

***

I stay with Vada as the morning fades into afternoon, the weak winter light already diminishing. I hate how quickly it gets dark in the winter; I hate the cold and the dreary, wet weather. It makes me miss Ronan even more. It makes me feel lonely.

It’s just after four and I’m next to Vada in her bed, her thick down blanket wrapped around the both of us, an episode of some cooking show playing on Vada’s laptop. It’s nice because there’s absolutely no chance a cooking show could evoke any kind of unwanted emotion for Vada right now, and even though she looks tired and worn, she hasn’t shed a tear in over an hour. I consider that a win.

“How about I grab us some takeout?” I finally suggest when I’m no longer able to ignore that hollow feeling in my stomach.

Vada’s eyes wander from the screen to me. They’re puffy and red-rimmed. “Okay,” she croaks pitifully.

“Okay. Any special requests? Maybe a gyro from that Greek food truck on Deacon?”

She shrugs. “Sure.”

I nod, climb out of her bed, and make my way out of her room. I glance back at Vada, whose eyes have returned to her laptop screen, devoid of all emotion other than exhaustion. Well, at least she’s not crying.

It’s only a five-minute walk to the food truck. I order and pay for the food, then make my way back to Vada’s in no time at all. Maybe I should offer to spend the night at her house. I’d hate for her to be alone.I’ll have to let my mom know. I instinctively reach for my phone in my back pocket, but it’s not there.That’s right, I left it hooked up to the charger on Vada’s nightstand.I’ll just call my mom when I’m back at Vada’s.

I let myself back into Vada’s house, take off my shoes and coat, then make my way back up to her room. My phone begins to ring as I reach the landing.

“Hello?” I hear Vada answer the call just like she did on New Year’s, and I spot her still in her bed, my phone to her ear. God, if it’s my dad calling me to remind me to be careful and that I don’t have the best decision-making track record, I might lose it. Or maybe he’s calling to tell me he fixed my admission to Duke. I wouldn’t put it past him at this point.

Vada’s eyes meet me. “Oh, yeah, she’s right here. Hold on a sec,” she says into the phone, then holds it out to me as I walk into her bedroom with the bag containing our gyros.

“My dad?” I ask in a hushed voice, taking my phone from her hand to put it to my ear.

Vada shakes her head, shrugging.

I press my phone to my ear and chirp, “Hello!”

“You fucking little cunt. I knew you didn’t change your number,” Adam’s voice sears into my ear with a threatening rumble.

I feel the color drain from my face. My heart constricts, restricting the blood flow to my limbs, and my hands grow cold and numb in a fraction of a second.

Luckily, Vada’s attention is back on her cooking show, so I rush out of her room.

---