Sunday, April 2nd #7
Of course, the second Cat and I walk through the door, all conversation cuts out like someone pressed the mute button on a remote.
I-don’t-know-how-many sets of eyes flicker to us.
Jesus Christ, everyone’s here. Penny’s whole family.
Cat’s parents. Thomas and Elias. Even my baby brothers look judgmental.
Miranda’s eyes go wide, her mouth forming an O. My brother lets out a snort he barely manages to turn into a cough, and Shane crosses his arms in front of his chest while giving me an approving hell yeah nod. Clearly, no one thinks this was remotely accidental.
“What in the world?” Cat’s dad barks, his voice slicing through the silence. His face contorts like he just bit into something sour. That man has never liked me, and walking in soaked and half-naked with his daughter swaddled in a blanket isn’t doing much to give him the warm fuzzies.
“Ronan,” my grandma says, gentler but firm. She takes the dripping pile of clothes from my hands and disappears into the laundry room, returning a moment later with sweatpants and a clean shirt. She shoves them into my arms like she expects an immediate explanation.
This is the part I’ve always hated—when my body thinks I’m about to be punished. My heart’s pounding, my breathing is quick, and my muscles are tight. My grandma would never hurt me, but try convincing my nervous system of that.
I can’t speak. Can’t remember the story we rehearsed in the truck. But Cat can.
“Ran showed me the lake,” she says, calm and clear. “I tripped on one of the planks and fell into the water. He had to get in to pull me out.”
My dad raises an eyebrow, smirking. Yeah, he’s not buying it. Not for a second.
“Gosh, those scratches,” my grandma mutters, her eyes darting to my chest.
Quickly, I pull the shirt over my head and step into my sweats.
“They’re my fault,” Cat adds, her voice tight, almost shaking like she’s on the verge of tears. “I panicked. I thought I was going to drown.” Her performance is fucking flawless. If I didn’t know the truth, I’d believe her.
“Oh no, Kitty, that water must have been freezing,” Jen says, her voice thick with concern.
I almost feel bad for lying. Almost.
My grandma exhales deeply. “Good call getting out of those clothes,” she says. “Your body temperatures would have dropped to a dangerous level fast. Stevie broke through the ice once when he was three. Perry and Thomas got him out, but he was already showing signs of hypothermia.”
“Oh my god,” Penny gasps. “What happened?”
“Well, he and Ran were playing on the ice, even though we’d told them not to.
They were little. You underestimate how thin it is.
Stevie broke through. You’d think you could just toss him in a hot bath, but no, you’ve gotta warm up the body slowly.
First, get out of the wet clothes. Then wrap up,” she says, gesturing toward Cat’s blanket.
“Warm drinks help. Or movement. Even body heat.”
“Body heat,” Miranda repeats under her breath, and I don’t miss the smirk. Neither does my brother. Shane’s trying so hard not to laugh.
I throw a warning look at them. They’re going to give us away if they keep this shit up.
“Yeah,” Cat says brightly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s what Ran said. Got me out, told me to get out of my clothes, gave me the blanket, cranked the heat in the truck, then drove us straight back.”
Savage. Badass. Always swooping in to save my undeserving ass.
***
Cat and I make our way upstairs. She showers. I change.
Dinner is awkward as hell. No one outright says anything, but the sidelong glances and half-smothered grins from Tori, Shane, my brother, and Miranda are relentless.
Shane keeps raising his eyebrows at me every time we make eye contact, like he’s waiting for me to tell him Cat and I finally made up.
Miranda sends me a text from under the table with only a cat and a fire emoji.
And Cat’s dad doesn’t take his damn eyes off me the entire meal, like he’s waiting for me to fuck up so he can finally lay into me like I know he’s simmering to do.
But Cat plays it cool. Calm and steady. She may not know it, but she’s always been the brave one.
Eventually the table gets cleared, and one by one everyone turns in for the night. I take a long, hot shower, then wait long enough for the house to settle into the kind of quiet that tells me everyone’s asleep, that it’s safe for me to slip out of my room and into Cat’s.
She’s already curled up underneath her blanket. The way she smiles at me, not even a hint of surprise on her face when I tip-toe in, tells me she knew I’d come.
We don’t say anything. I just crawl into bed beside her, kiss her slow, and start worshipping her body like I have all the damn time in the world. I make love to her—soft and gentle this time. Patient. Like she’s something precious. Because she is.
And then I do it again. And again. All night.
No rush. No panic. No frenzy. Just us, and the aching kind of love I’ve felt for her since the moment I first laid eyes on her.