Page 98 of Not Another Yesterday
When they finish, Shane hollers, “Way to go, Rony!”
Ronan’s full lips curve into a sly smile, just like in the photo of him at two years old. Mischief incarnate. “Okay, you’re asking for it. Get up here, asshole!”
Shane folds his arms across his sturdy chest, shaking his head with a laugh.
Ronan looks to Miranda. “Randi, we need a drummer, don’t you think?”
“What? SheShe plays the drums?” Miranda says into the mic, teasing.
Tori lets out a delighted screech at the brand-new nickname.
“Yep,SheSheplays the drums,” Ronan says, biting back a laugh. “Come on, get up here, SheShe.” That does it. Ronan busts up laughing.
Shane stands and flips Ronan off with both hands. Still, he makes his way to the stage, feigning irritation.
“Alright, SheShe, what are we playing?” Ronan asks, his voice still shaking with laughter. It’s always been one of my favorite sounds.
“You made your point,” Shane grumbles and takes a seat behind the drum set at the back of the stage.
“Okay, Rony? SheShe? Ready?” Miranda asks, smiling at them both.
“Man, you really know how to emasculate a guy,” Shane huffs, though there’s no real heat to his words.
Miranda just laughs and strums her guitar again. It takes no time at all for Ronan and Shane to fall into rhythm beside her.
I watch as a familiar ache curls inside me. Seeing Ronan like this—laughing, playing, surrounded by the people he loves—it’s like witnessing a memory I’m no longer part of.
And even though I’m sitting right here, it’s never felt more like I’m on the outside looking in.
Ronan
My dad ends up calling it a night to collective boos from… the damn adults in the room. Where those of us well under the age of twenty-five appear to be stone-cold sober—or at least aren’t stumbling to the bathroom like Cat’s mom did a few minutes ago—the parentals are either tipsy or straight-up plastered. Only my dad’s gait’s steady, his eyes sharp as he scoops a dazed-looking Penny into his arms and starts ushering the crowd out of Sterling’s just before midnight.
“Alright, Stevie: you take Cat, Thomas, Elias, and Miranda. Strike that—take Cat, Jen, and Bobby back to the ranch. Ran, you’ll drive Seamus, Tori, and Shane.” He nods once, like he’s giving orders to his squadron at the Air Force. “Randi, are you okay to drive?”
Miranda nods. She isn’t lying; all she’s had tonight is water.
“Good. Take Martin’s truck and take him, Erin, Thomas, and Elias back. I’ll take Penny and her sister,” he finishes like the lieutenant colonel he is.
Miranda nudges me as she brushes past, aiming a wicked grin my way. “See, your daddy doesn’t mind a threesome,” she whispers with a naughty eyebrow wiggle.
I groan. Loudly. Then follow everyone out of Sterling’s like her little comment didn’t just result in a cringe-worthy visual.
It’s a clear night, and only fifty minutes later I drop my passengers off at their cabin.
“You still gonna try to get Cat alone tonight?” Shane asks as he opens the back door, ready to hop out of my truck.
I inhale slowly, nodding. My heart’s pounding like I’m about to walk into a war zone and I don’t even know which side I’m on.
Shane nods, then reaches for my shoulder to squeeze it. “You got this, man. Just… feel. It’ll be alright.”
I park my truck next to my grandpa’s. Neither my dad nor Steve are back yet, their spots empty. Not a shocker. Shane, Tori, Seamus, and I were the first ones back on the road—probably because none of us were fall-over drunk. There’s no telling how long it took to coax my giggly aunt or Cat’s barely awake dad back into the respective vehicles.
I trudge the fifty yards to the house, my path illuminated by the motion-sensor lights that clicked on with my truck’s approach. My understanding is that Cat’s siblings are spending the night in the one remaining upstairs bedroom, while my baby brothers are in my grandparents’ bedroom. I decide to take a seat on the front steps and wait for Steve and Cat to get here.
It’s early April and, not surprisingly, the Montana chill cuts right through me. It takes only minutes before my hands are buried deep inside my jacket pockets and my jaw’s clenched tight to keep from shivering. The lights shut off with my lack of movement as I sit in the cold, quiet dark. But the second I spot headlights making their way up the long drive, the cold evaporates under the heat of instant panic.
I watch as Cat and Steve get out of the truck and start toward me. My heart lurches into my throat. I feel the hectic thing slamming against my chest. I swear it makes the spots where my ribs were broken not quite two years ago ache. My mouth is dry, and my shirt sticks to my low back with cold sweat. Weird how my physical reaction now is the exact same it always was when my mother called me into the kitchen. When I knew she was going to hurt me.
