Page 103 of Edge of Unbroken

My dad and siblings are in town for a long weekend and I’m not exaggerating when I say I screeched like a banshee when my dad walked into the house and handed me the keys to my Subaru last night. I wanted to take it for a drive right then and there, but my dad nixed the idea, unhappy with the thought of me leaving the house unaccompanied when it’s dark out. I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t argue.

But I did take it first thing this morning, even just to drive to the small coffee shop a couple blocks from my house and then to Vada’s, laden with egg, cheddar, and sausage bagels and caramel macchiatos. I pulled her outside with me the split second she opened the door, to show off my vessel of liberty. Obviously she didn’t receive it quite as well as I did, but I decide not to let her indifference put a damper on my exceptionally chipper mood. Life has been so challenging lately that I intend to ride the high for as long as I can.

And I really am happy today. Not only do I have my car back, but I also received an unexpected but extremely welcome call from Ronan in the middle of the night.

My phone buzzed at just before two. Naturally I expected the call to come from Adam, but the second I recognized the Montana number my heart began galloping in my chest. Ronan and I talked for only three minutes, just long enough to “get a quick fix,” as Ronan described it.

“I just couldn’t wait until Sunday,” he said. “I needed to hear your voice really quick. I just… I needed to tell you how much I love you. And… I need to hear you say it in turn,” he said in a strained whisper.

It took exactly zero effort to tell him how deeply I loved him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tag along tonight?” I ask Vada when we’re finally in her room, lounging on her bed and indulging in our breakfast.

She shakes her head. “I’m not ready. It still hurts too much to be around Stevie for longer than thirty seconds,” she says, a deep sadness strangling her voice.

I had really hoped Vada would be at Shane’s party tonight, that the seven of us would be able to hang out like we used to. It’s strange how the absence of one person can make the world feel empty. We’ve all noticed it with Ronan’s departure, and the void feels positively cavernous with Steve and Vada’s breakup.

They’ve made it a point to avoid spending time together, politely bowing out of get-togethers when they knew the other was spending time with our friend group.

Steve has been a rare sighting at Shane’s apartment, and when Vada got word from Zack that Steve was hoping to make it to Shane’s tonight, she decided to let him have this time with his friends while she stayed in for the night.

I wish they’d get to a place where it didn’t feel like their hearts were being ripped apart at the mere sight of each other, that things would return to normal already, that we could bask in the comfort of everyone’s presence again, but I know they’ll need time to get to that place. I know healing can’t be rushed. If it could, I’d have been back in Ronan’s arms months ago.

What I can say, though, is that Steve and Vada have handled their breakup maturely and admirably. Neither has spoken disparagingly of the other, they’ve given each other space and as much support as possible, and they even hugged briefly when Steve dropped by to pick up Zack while I was hanging out at Vada’s last weekend.

Vada sighs. “I hate the thought of seeing him with another girl.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.”

“But it will happen eventually. Who knows, maybe someone catches his eye tonight.”

“I really doubt that. And maybe you’ll see some hot, ripped, sexy guy tonight and fall head over heels in love,” I say with a playful grin.

My attempt at lifting her spirits falls flat.

“I honestly can’t see myself with anyone but Steve. I can’t even imagine being intimate with anyone else.”

I get her point. I couldn’t picture myself being touched by anyone other than Ronan.

***

I do end up hitching a ride with Steve later that evening. Not so much because of Vada’s haughty advice, but because my dad insisted I be accompanied at all times. He grumbled when he found out my “chaperon” would be my boyfriend’s big brother but had to yield when my mom finally put her foot down. She admonished my dad to stop being so stiflingly protective and let me be “seventeen, for crying out loud!”

Steve picked me up in Ronan’s car, which made my heart ache for the millionth-gazillionth time since October 28th, and we made the drive to Shane’s beach house, chatting about Steve’s college progress while he attends his Boston University classes virtually.

Shane’s is packed, as always when he throws one of his infamous parties. The amount of people mingling inside the house, out on the deck, and down by the private stretch of beach makes me wonder if anyone went to the winter dance or if they all abandoned their plans once word got around that Shane was apparently back in the party business.

As always, the six of us occupy our usual spots on the outdoor sectional sofa. It’s so interesting to me that anybody who’s not a part of my close-knit group of friends doesn’t even attempt to sit on the sofa.

It’s as though this portion of the beach house is surrounded by an invisible force field, a barrier to anyone trying to break the bond between the six… seven… eight of us. And if anyone dares take a seat—and god forbid the spot that may as well have Ronan’s name branded on it, like some random drunk guy did at the New Year’s Eve party—Shane politely but firmly makes it clear that their presence in this particular area is not welcome. “Anywhere but here, man,” Shane chuckled as he helped the guy up from Ronan’s spot.

The guy just muttered incoherently, then stumbled away without putting up a fight.

It's crowded and lively tonight, music playing loudly, the alcohol flowing so freely that it takes hardly any time for Tori and Summer to get drunk. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I too am at least slightly tipsy—though certainly not wasted like my girlfriends sitting to my left—but I have a hard time reining in my giggles at Tori’s sloppy flirting with Shane. She’s on her knees, straddling Shane’s lap, moving her shoulders and hips like she’s trying to give him a lap dance. Judging by the amused look on Shane’s face, Tori’s sexual advances don’t have the effect she thinks they have.

“Jesus, okay guys, can you just slow down a little bit?” Shane grunts when Tori takes another draw straight from the bottle of tequila, then makes to get up off the sofa, only to stumble forward.

I gasp when she trips over her own feet and nearly falls into the rectangular fire pit, which is very much lit right now. Luckily, Shane’s hand snaps out and he grabs Tori’s arm, pulling her back just in time to prevent something bad from happening.

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