Page 113 of Edge of Unbroken

“Why? Didn’t you love me once?” Her normally soulful voice is pitchy, interrupted by shallow inhales as she talks through her tears.

“Randi…” I have no idea what to say, my head too foggy, too slow to process everything and form a sufficient response, one that doesn’t break her.

“Just answer, Ronan. Did you love me?”

“Fuck, Randi. I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. This… Why are you doing this?” I ask, pacing now. My hands are on my head, grabbing fistfuls of hair. I feel horrible.

Miranda becomes stock still, firmly rooted to her spot. “You don’t know if you ever loved me? Are you serious? We were together thirteen months, Rony. We had sex countless times; I spilled my heart out to you; you told me what your mom was doing to you—and you can’t tell me if you loved me? Fine, let me make this easy on you: did you ever feel for me what you feel for Cat now?” Her eyes are locked on me.

“Randi, just fucking stop it!” I know my answer will devastate her.

“I won’t stop until you answer me,” she yells even louder, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks.

I stop my pacing and face her, suddenly feeling stone cold sober. “No,” I say. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about Cat. And I don’t think I ever will again. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t care about you, Randi. I did.I do. Very much.” I approach her cautiously.

She takes a step back from me, the pain clearly etched on her face.

“But I love you, Ronan. I love you, and I want you, and I need you,” she cries, working to get the words out. “When I heard you were back, when I saw you… it was like I was safe again. I’ve been so lost since you left for New York. Without you, I have no one. You’re everything to me; you always were. I love you. Please,” she says, her eyes huge.

My heart shatters in my chest as she stares at me, her blue eyes wide, watery, and desperate. Although I want nothing more than to pull her out of that deep, dark hole that consists only of fear and shame and pain inflicted by her dad—the one person whose responsibility it was to love her—I’m beginning to realize I can’t. I never could. Just like she could never save me.

“I can’t…” I say, my voice almost a whisper. “I can’t give you what you think you need, Randi. I can’t… I can’t even figure out what exactly it is that I need. Look, I get everything you’re saying. I fucking understand. But I’m not it for you. I promise, what you think you want…me… I’m not it.”

“You don’t know that Rony.” She steps closer to me again, reaching for me.

“Randi, please don’t do this!” I withdraw my hand as she moves to take it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A sob breaks from her heaving chest. “You’re already hurting me. You’re abandoning me.” She stops right in front of me. Her blue eyes are huge, glossy, her cheeks flushed and shimmering with the sunlight reflecting off her tears as she stares into my eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of us speak as her words pierce me like a knife.

She squares her shoulders. “I don’t think I should be around you right now,” she finally says when her eyes find my lips. She begins to move around me, to walk away from me.

I grab her wrist, forcing her to turn back around. “Where are you going?”

Her features are hard when she faces me. “Why the fuck do you care?” Her voice is cold now, hardened with anger.

“You can’t drive like this, Randi. You’re trashed.”

She yanks her arm away from me. “That’s never stopped me before,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.

“Randi, please!”

“Ronan, I can’t be around you right now. I want… I want to kiss you, badly. I want to touch you. I want you to want me…” She shakes her head. “I need to go.” She marches to her truck, climbs in, and starts the engine without another look at me.

I watch her slowly drive away until she disappears in the thicket of trees, wondering what the fuck just happened, how the fuck we got here. It’s a question I’ve asked myself throughout my life, whenever I find myself in situations that get out of hand and spin out of control in the blink of an eye, leaving me reeling.

I can’t believe how wrong I was about Miranda’s feelings for me. I was convinced I was nothing more than a distraction, a way to temporarily escape her fucked-up life, just like she offered me reprieve from my mother’s abuse. I only ever thought that the sex, the sneaking out, the getting high was our way of rebelling against our parents, our way of taking some control over our lives. I never realized I was so much more to her than that. She thought I could save her, just like she thought she could save her dad.

But that’s the thing. Nobody can save Miranda’s dad but himself, and nobody can save Miranda but Miranda herself.

And nobody is going to be able to save me. Nobody is going to pull me out of my depression, nobody is going to stop the nightmares, nobody is going to take the stand for me, face my mother, and testify against her. Nobody but me.

I don’t know how long I stand on that dock before I finally start the walk back to the ranch. I’m in no condition to drive. It’s not so much that I worry I might get in a wreck—there’s no one within a ten-mile radius of this place other than my grandparents’ ranch. But if my grandparents found out I drove while severely intoxicated, they’d be more than disappointed in my judgment. Disappointing people is something I have—unsuccessfully—tried to avoid all my life. It’s one of the shittiest feelings, probably because it usually came with nasty consequences.

The walk back to the ranch takes me a good hour, during which I polish off what’s left of the Jack. I don’t bother hiding the empty bottle in my hand when I step back into the house. My grandparents are already waiting for me, worry in their eyes as they approach me from the kitchen.

“Baby boy?” my grandmother says. “Are you okay? You’ve been gone for hours!” She studies my face. I’m sure she notices my less-than-steady gait and my eyes, which likely exhibit all the signs of inebriation.

“Sorry, Morai. I’m wasted,” I slur, and hold out the empty bottle of Jack.

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