Page 64 of Not Another Yesterday
She shakes her head adamantly, tears spilling down her face and dripping off her chin. “No, I won’t.”
She reaches for me, but I take a step back, closer to the door, away from Cat. I know if I let her touch me, if we make physical contact,I’ll change my mind. I know I won’t be able to keep a clear head because I never can when I’m with her, when she’s touching me.
I want nothing more than to be with her forever, but I’m convinced I’m doing the right thing. All I’ve ever wanted was to keep her safe. And I’ve finally realized that the biggest threat to Cat’s health and happiness is me. It’s always been me.
“Yes, you will. And you know what? I think instinctively you know it, too. I think you letting down your guard and allowing that guy to kiss you last night was you subconsciously realizing that I’ll never be able to make you truly, undeniably happy. There are things…” I exhale a shaky breath. “There are things you don’t know about me, and—”
“Ran, please,” she whimpers.
I try to say more, but the words get trapped in my throat. A painful lump presses on my vocal cords, making my eyes sting. It’s fucking tearing me apart. She’s everything to me—has been everything to me since the moment I met her just over a year and a half ago.
“Please,” she says again, her voice barely a whisper now. “I don’t even know who I am without you.”
I swallow what feels like rocks and sand. “You deserve to find out, Cat,” I tell her softly, because she’s right. She’s been so invested in me—my trauma, my recovery—I think she forgot herself in the process. And Cat isn’t someone who should have to live in my darkness, in the shadows cast by my past. She is light and goodness. She’s incredible, smart, amazing, kind, with a whole beautiful life ahead of her. I know I have to let her go so she can build the future she wants and deserves without someone as broken and fucked up as me holding her back—or worse, perpetuating my family’s destructive history.
“Thank you for loving me through the dark,” I croak. “I never deserved you.”
She reaches for me again, but I take another step back and take hold of the door handle.
Wild panic resides in her eyes like she knows I’m only seconds away from walking out of her life. “Please don’t do this,” she says with a desperate sob.
My entire world breaks apart underneath me. “It’s already done,” I say, choking on my words.
“No. Please, I need you,” she cries. “I love you so much, sweet boy, please…”
With the battle raging inside my chest, I gather all determination and I do the worst possible thing. I turn, walk out of the house, and drive away, damning myself to an existence without light, without love, without Cat.
Cat
He’s gone.
Ronan is gone. Just like that. He slipped from my hands like sand, no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. He left and took my heart with him. He reached into my chest and tore out that bleeding, beating organ like it meant nothing.
For a moment, I’m suspended in a state of disbelief. This has to be a bad dream. It just doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real. I love him. He loves me. We’re tethered, forged in pain and trauma. We’ve been through darkness and emerged into light. He can’t just… leave like this. It can’t be that easy to walk away. Not after everything. Not after the hell we clawed our way through together. If it was that easy, then what would that make me? He’ll be back any second. He'll come to his senses. He’s just hurt right now—has every right to be wounded—but he’ll be back and pull me into his arms like always.
But he doesn’t come back.
The dull ache in that spot where my heart used to be sharpens as the seconds tick by. The door stays shut. No footsteps. No click of the door handle. No breath catching on my name. Just silence thatscreams. I stand and stare, and the ache begins to throb, then pulsate, then hum until it’s no longer just an ache but a vortex of agony that brings me to my knees. Darkness creeps into the edges of my vision, blurring my surroundings, and an uncontrollable sob tears from my throat, shattering the stagnant silence in the empty house.
It’s over.
He left me.
Ronan is gone.
***
10:27 a.m.—I force myself to move, to walk up the stairs and to my room, to retrieve my phone. I’m dazed, shivering even though it’s seventy-three degrees in the house. All I feel is oppressive emptiness, like there is not a person left in this world. Not a person I care about, at least. Am I going into shock?
I dial Ronan’s number like I have a million times in my life. His beautiful face—alive with the brightest smile that translates even to his green eyes—lights up my screen, making a mockery of my pain.
“Please pick up, Ran,” I whisper with my phone clutched in my hand. But the unemotional, robot voice of his mailbox answers the call: “The number you have dialed is unavailable. Please leave a message.” Ronan never personalized his voicemail, didn’t even bother recording his name. Always so damn private, robbing me even of this opportunity to hear his voice. It's stupid, but even a recording would be something. Proof he’s still real. Still mine.
Me:
I’m so sorry, Ran. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. Please, can we talk? Please!
11:43 a.m.—my text shows as delivered but remains unread. That hole in my chest expands, gaping now.
