Chapter 7 Wednesday, December 21st #3
She nods again. “I have a lot of threads going at the same time. I’ve reached out to Rica Soult in prison to see if she’d agree to an interview, but nothing yet.
It’s not a surprise, to be honest. But there’s a lot I can gather just from news reports, lots of public information and documents.
It was a little harder figuring out Ronan’s name, but obviously not impossible.
And then there’s social media, which is hugely helpful.
Nothing is truly private anymore,” she says with a delighted smile—while my frown deepens.
“I wanted to get a good understanding of exactly what I was dealing with before I made contact with Ronan. The fact that he attends Columbia is just… chef’s kiss,” she says, touching her fingertips to her lips.
The monster in my chest is wide awake and roaring, but this time it’s not one of fear or jealousy. It’s pure, primal protectiveness. I couldn’t shield Ronan from his mother, couldn’t stop the darkness from swallowing him whole… but I can stop this. I will stop this. “Don’t contact him!”
Her mouth clamps shut for a moment. “I already did. Well, I tried. A couple of times.” She shakes her head.
“When?” I ask before I can stop myself. I don’t want to give this chick the impression that Ronan doesn’t share things with me, even though it’s not a lie. He very obviously doesn’t—a fact that makes my stomach feel hollow.
“The day before Thanksgiving. He shut me down so fast,” she says with a half-hearted laugh.
“I tried again last week but I didn’t fare any better.
I figured I’ll give him time to come around while I follow up with my other potential leads.
Shane is obviously tied to Ronan, so I thought I’d try my luck here,” she says with an expectant smile.
“Not gonna happen,” I say. “If Ronan doesn’t want to talk to you about this then neither will Shane, nor I, nor any of our other friends.”
Her mouth opens, but no sound escapes.
I shrug. “I’d recommend you come up with a different story.”
“But, I—”
“Let me guess, when you talked to Ronan he asked you to please leave him alone, right? And he probably told you not to pursue this story, that he doesn’t want anything to do with this?
” I don’t wait for her response. I know Ronan; there’s no way he’d even consider going into detail about his upbringing with a stranger when he can’t even fathom it with his closest friends.
“You won’t have any luck going after Shane, or me, or anyone else who’s connected to Ronan because we won’t talk to you.
You’re better off forgetting about this story, forgetting about Ronan. ”
Her face contorts. “I can’t do that,” she says. “I’ve already invested so much time. And this is part of my master’s degree.”
I shrug. “I guess you better find a new story quickly, then.”
She leans back in her seat, crossing her arms. “I’m not going to do that.”
The roar in my chest increases. I place my palms flat on the tabletop, then lean into Rashana’s space, tilting my head to the side. “You’re in the investigative journalism master’s program at Columbia?”
She narrows her eyes at me but nods.
“Great. Can’t be that difficult to figure out who your advisor is then, right?
And your professors? I don’t know a ton about investigative journalism, but I have a feeling you stalking the victim of severe childhood trauma and relentlessly hounding people who have told you they won’t talk to you wouldn’t go over well.
Aren’t there ethical guidelines? So unless you want me to do my own ‘sleuthing,’ I’d recommend you find a different story to write. ”
I’m met by a shrieky laugh. “Are you seriously threatening me?”
I straighten. “Yes. And I promise you that if you don’t let this go, I won’t be the only one. One thing you need to know about Ronan is that he has a hell of a force behind him, and we’re going to make damn sure that people like you don’t undo the peace he’s worked so hard for.”
We stare at each other silently, her eyes bouncing between mine as if to determine the seriousness of my warning. I feel someone move up behind me, and a large, warm hand comes to rest on the small of my back.
“Hey, Cat, everything alright over here?” Shane asks in his deep voice.
I turn to him, noting his thick bomber jacket.
He obviously just got back from wherever he was.
He turns his attention to Rashana, giving her a polite smile.
“My bartender said you were looking for me. Can I help with anything?”
I shake my head without taking my eyes off Rashana. “No, she doesn’t need any assistance, Shay.”
I see him look at me out of my periphery, his eyebrows raised.
“This is Rashana Yates. She’s an investigative journalism student who was trying to get the inside scoop on Ran for a story she’s writing,” I tell him, teeth gritted. “But I already informed her that none of us have anything to say to her.”
Shane directs his gaze at Rashana. “You’re trying to get information about Ronan from me? Like, about the things that happened to him?”
Rashana begins to stammer. “Yeah, well, I tried to speak with Ronan directly, but he’s reluctant. I’m really not trying to ruffle feathers or—”
“Sorry, but I can’t help you,” Shane says, his hand still on my low back.
“I really don’t think this is the story you want to write unless you want to do a half-ass job, because if Ronan won’t agree to talk to you, then neither will any of us,” he says with a tip of his head in my direction.
I gotta give it to him, he’s a heck of a lot politer than me.
But then again, he probably doesn’t want to scare off any customers, either.
“I already told her that,” I say, my focus on Rashana.
Rashana nods and gathers her things, shoving her manilla folder back into her satchel before she stands.
Shane and I take a step back, giving her space to exit the booth.
“I can appreciate your hesitation. I told Ronan I had some information I’d be happy to share with him if he was willing to talk to me.
Hopefully he’ll come around, because you’re right—without his input, it would be a half-baked, one-sided story,” she says. “I really don’t mean any harm.”
She allows her gaze to linger on Shane and me a moment longer before she walks away and out of Murphy’s.
“What the actual fuck?” Shane punctuates each word with a sharp pause and turns his arctic-blue eyes to me.
I prop my hands on my hips. “Your reaction makes me think Ran hasn’t told you about Rashana either.”
“No. Did he tell you?”
I shake my head, dismayed. “No. But apparently she tried to talk to him twice already—once the day before Thanksgiving and again last week. He’s doing it again, Shay. He’s not talking to us.”
Shane exhales so deeply, his chest concaves. “The day before Thanksgiving? The same day his grandmother showed up?”
I didn’t even make that connection. “Yeah.”
“Shit.” The word escapes Shane in a hushed whisper. He rubs his neck. “I’ll talk to him when he’s—”
“No,” I say. “I will talk to him.”
Shane’s jaw flexes as his eyes lock on mine.
He’s as protective of Ronan as I am, and the way he’s studying me right now, his features hardening, blue eyes icy, gives me the impression a small part of him feels the need to protect Ronan from me.
I won’t lie, I’m pissed that Ronan hasn’t told me about Rashana, especially after his unwillingness to talk about his grandmother’s visit.
“I’m serious, Shay. This… doesn’t it bother you? Doesn’t it irk you that he doesn’t open up to you? That he doesn’t feel he can share his pain?”
Shane’s forehead creases, his eyebrows dipping.
“Yeah, but I also know there’s no forcing Ran to open up.
He copes the way he copes, and I’ll be at his six whenever he’s ready to share.
Ran’s been my best friend for-fucking-ever.
I love him like a brother. We’ve been through some deep fucking shit together; he’s been by my side when I was at my absolute lowest, never wavering, never questioning.
That guy… he’s never been anything but patient with me even when I definitely did not deserve his patience.
Trust me,” Shane says with a steadfastness only a lifelong best friend can bring, “I owe him the same unwavering, unquestioning patience.”
“Except you know Ran doesn’t share unless he’s forced to.
Unless something horrible happens and he’s no longer able to hide it all.
That might work for you, but it doesn’t for me.
You’re not in an intimate relationship with Ran.
You’re not trying to… I don’t know, build a life with him, I guess.
I can’t do that—can’t build a future—if Ran never lets me in.
You know he still won’t talk about his grandmother’s visit?
It’s been a month, Shay. And I’m not stupid.
I know it’s eating at him. We can’t build a strong foundation if he…
” I shake my head, throat thickening. “If he won’t let me see the parts that scare him. ”
I don’t know why it hurts so much, but it does.
“So, before you give him a heads-up about this, before you tell him about Rashana’s visit, I want the chance to talk to him first. Please, Shay. Just… keep this between us.”
Ronan
“I’m no germaphobe,” I say to Miranda’s suggestion that I take a quick shower before we check out of the motel.
“I have no problem getting down and dirty, but this bathroom is a no-go zone for me. No way am I going to get buck naked and stand under that shower. I’ll catch something the moment the air makes contact with my bare skin.
No thanks, I’ll wait until we make it to Nashville. ”
“Oh my god, Rony, you’re not serious,” she wheezes, her right hand pressed against her abdominals as if she’s trying to hold them in place. “Are you telling me you didn’t even relieve yourself in there this morning?”