Page 170 of Not Another Yesterday
Because you didn’t look. Not when I needed you to. Not when she was hurting me.
“I didn’t think about the repercussions of all the moving, not really. And I know that if I’d paid closer attention, I would’ve seen Rica was hurting you. But I didn’t look, because, well… things were going great for me. Penny and I were serious. We’d talked about spending the rest of our lives together.”
“Did you think that would include Stevie and me?” I ask flatly.
“I hoped it would. But you were old enough by then that I figured you’d make the call. Stevie was about to head to college. I knew you had your life in New York—your friends, Cat.”
My heart stutters at her name. Fuck, I’m still devastated by this girl, and I have a feeling it’ll only get worse as the years go by.
He exhales. “So I found a divorce lawyer. I saw her a couple of times before I pulled the trigger. She had everything ready and was going to file that Monday after… after Rica hurt you.”
I stare straight ahead.After she hurt me.That’s such a gentle phrase for what she did. I was barely alive. Actually, no. I know there wereat least a few seconds where my lungs had ceased to breathe and my heart had stopped beating. For all intents and purposes, I was gone. If it hadn’t been for Steve…
“That Friday night, I just started feeling so much fucking guilt…”
He keeps talking, and I hear the words, but they blur around the edges. My heartbeat is too loud in my ears. He's explaining why he didn’t want to blindside my mom with the divorce, how she “sacrificed so much,” how he thought it wasn’t fair.It wasn’t fair to me, either.But he didn’t know that. Not then.
“I told Rica I was coming home, that I was leaving her, that I was going to grab some stuff and then leave for Virginia for good. And, well, you know the rest of the story,” he sighs.
Yeah. I do.Too fucking well.
He swallows, hard. “When I pulled up… there were cop cars. An ambulance. I threw my car in park and just ran. A cop stopped me in the hall, but I saw you on the floor. EMTs shocking your heart.”
His voice starts to crack.
“I just fucking stood there, trying to comprehend what the fuck was going on. Rica was kneeling on the floor, Stevie was, too, blood all over himself, Zack beside him. For a moment, I thought something had happened to Stevie, too. I couldn’t understand what the hell had gone down.” He inhales a shaky breath. “The EMTs got your heart going again, intubated you right there, and rushed you to the hospital. I rode with you. I was asking questions but they didn’t know much—just said it was blunt force trauma, suspected abuse.”
He shakes his head, clearly ashamed. I blink, but everything in me goes still. The way he says it yanks me back into it—the struggle for air, for breath, the panic when it didn’t come, the burning pain. Everywhere. Inside and out. The sound of Steve’s voice shaking. The taste of blood in my mouth. The fingers of darkness, of sweet numbness pulling me under until there was nothing but quiet peace.
“It wasn’t until Steve and Zack made it to the hospital that I began to understand what the hell had happened,” my dad says. “And thenShane… he told me that you had confided in him, at least a little bit. He said you had told him that your mom had hit you before. That he had seen the bruises. God, my world just crumbled.”
He clears his throat, voice barely hanging on.
“The cops gave me more info at the hospital. Your surgeon took me aside and told me the scans showed signs of old fractures—injuries that had never been properly treated. Signs you’d been hurt before. Multiple times.”
I swallow hard, bile rising. I feel exposed, cracked wide open, and it’s not even my dad doing it. It’s the truth itself, dragging its fingernails down my spine.
“You were in surgery for almost eleven hours. When we finally saw you… you were unrecognizable. Your face was just… gone. Swollen, bruised. I didn’t think you’d make it. I sat with you all night, just telling you how sorry I was. Telling you I loved you.”
He pauses, swallowing the memory.
“Every day, Cat, Shane, Vada, Tori—they were all there. Taking turns. Talking to you. Holding your hand. That moment when you opened your eyes…” He breaks off.
I remember waking up and seeing them. I remember how heavy everything felt. I remember the light hurting my eyes and Cat holding my hand so gently, like I’d break if she gripped too hard. I remember thinking it was too late, that I was already broken.
“You’re so unbelievably strong, Ran. Such a fighter.”
I flinch. Not visibly, but it’s a jolt inside. I don’t feel strong. I’ve never felt strong. I felt like a ghost for months.
“But we all saw what it cost you. You weren’t the same. Your soul was just… tired. And when Dr. Seivert said you were contemplating… you were—”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. I just sit there, letting him talk. Letting it settle.
“I talked with Morai and Athair every day when you were in Montana, especially those first few months. They were so worried. Saidyou wouldn’t get out of bed. That you weren’t eating. They argued with me and Doctor Seivert about how to reach you. I kept saying to trust your therapist. But… I guess Athair took matters into his own hands,” he chuckles softly.
I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I guess he messed with his truck so you’d have to fix it. Just to get you out of bed. Out of the house. Out of your head. So you’d have a problem to solve.”
