Page 99 of Not Another Yesterday
And yeah, I’m aware how fucked up that is. Laying myself bare to the love of my life is nothing like getting the shit beaten out of me by my mom. But that’s what it feels like—this tight, sick fear in my chest that I’m walking straight into something that is sure to wreck me.
And I’m going anyway.
I stay seated, focusing on my breathing until they’re halfway to the house. I stand, wiping my clammy palms on my jeans. I must have gone unnoticed to Steve and Cat until now, because suddenly Cat folds her arms tightly across her chest, her posture stiffening as her pace slowsand she begins to trail half a step behind Steve. Almost like she’s wary of me.
My brother’s cheeks lift with a knowing smile, his eyes warm, encouraging. Much like everyone else, he’s made no secret of his dismay over our breakup.
“Hey,” I say, my voice rough from cold and nerves.
Cat doesn’t answer. She just looks at me. It’s not icy. Not exactly. But it’s not warm, either.
Steve walks past me up the steps, but Cat stops six feet from me. The physical distance stings.
Her eyes flick past me to Steve.
He glances between us, eyebrows rising expectantly. “You two good if I head in?” he asks, his tone casual.
I nod. “Yeah. Just… wanted to talk to Cat for a sec.”
“Don’t make it weird,” Steve says under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. He bumps his shoulder against mine, then disappears into the house with a quiet click as the door shuts behind him.
Now it’s just us.
Cat stands there, arms still crossed, her frame backlit by the lights mounted to the barn. She looks tired, like she’s been carrying something heavy. Like maybe I’m the weight.
“Can we talk?” I ask her, barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” she breathes, matching my volume. The single word brings immediate relief. She’s not rejecting me outright.
I take the few steps that separate us like I’m approaching a skittish animal. She doesn’t flinch or walk away, and instead lets me take her hand in mine, lets me lead her some yards away from the house. My grandparents and brothers are sleeping downstairs. I don’t want to wake anyone, don’t want to risk anyone overhearing.
Cat follows me without a word, and I keep her hand in mine like I have so many times in my life because she is what anchors me. And anchoring is exactly what I need right now. I’m about to give life tothe darkest, ugliest parts of myself—parts no one knows, parts I’ve spent months—hell, years—burying deep, deep inside me. And I’m scared shitless. And maybe not so much of the telling, but of the look I’m convinced she’ll give me after. The one that says whatever’s left between us can’t survive the truth.
Cat
Ronan’s hand in mine is warm, familiar in a way that guts me. It’s like muscle memory. I stare at our joined hands, revel in the steady current that runs from my palm directly to my heart. It’s the first time we’ve touched in months, but the sensation is just as powerful.
Ronan stops maybe thirty feet from the house, then turns to face me. He lets go of my hand to shove both of his into his jeans pockets. Already, I mourn the loss.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
At first, I nod. But he deserves honesty. Heck,Ideserve honesty. And not just from others, but from myself, too. It’s something I’ve learned about myself these past few months. The catalyst was the breakup, but the revelation came only days ago when I was knee-deep in my research. And suddenly, it all made sense. My past with Adam, my own behavioral patterns, my mom’s “apropos” statement. I have codependent tendencies.
Looking back, it’s obvious. The signs were all there.
Lack of satisfaction or purpose outside of the relationship.Check.
Preoccupation with the other person’s thoughts or feelings.Check.
Unwillingness to state needs or desires due to fear of conflict.Check.
Of course, Ronan never saw it because he was preoccupied with his recovery. And I never recognized it because, well, it was learned behavior meant to keep me safe. I’d been trained since childhood tostay small and agreeable to avoid injury. My dad expected me to be a “good girl,” in not so subtle ways tasking me with ensuring others didn’t hurt me. Adam, of course, was the case in point, teaching me that defiance results in punishment. So I learned to shrink myself down, to hide certain pieces of me. The last thing I ever wanted was to be abandoned. Especially by the boy I loved…lovemost in this world. Except the steam builds, and the pressure eventually finds a release valve. Ronan was that valve. Everything burst out during that awful fight. After that, everything just… unraveled.
My face contorts with the wave of sorrow rushing through me. I shake my head, unable to dam the tears. “No,” I croak. “Ran, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he whispers. Somehow, I almost believe him.
I shake my head more vehemently. “No it’s not. That kiss should’ve never happened. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could undo everything. I—”
