Page 32 of Yesterday I Cared
“Damn, is that a genuine Mia Sheridan smile I’ve been graced with?” He’s teasing as he turns to a fancy coffee machine and starts pressing a bunch of buttons. “Please tell me that’s not out of pity from what I told you yesterday because, if it is, I’m making you a hot coffee.”
“No, it’s nothing like that.” I lean against the island to watch him work. “Just…the small things you remember kind of amaze me.”
He gives me a skeptical look over his shoulder and shrugs. “I like knowing things about the people I care about.”
“You don’t care about me, Ronan,” I challenge. “We haven’t seen one another in years.”
“Doesn’t mean I ever stopped caring.” He keeps his back to me when he says that, focusing on the task at hand, so I focus on the one I was given. A couple of minutes later, he sets two iced coffees on the counter and I hand him a plate. He takes one bite and lets out a loud, borderline sexual groan that has my eyes widening and cheeks flushing. “Holy shit, Mia. I knew you were good, but not this good.”
Flushing even more, I duck my head and focus on nibbling on my own piece. He has a point, though. This is damn good if I do say so myself.
A few bites later, Ronan is reaching for his coffee when he speaks again. “All right, out with it. I know you’re here because of what happened yesterday. Let’s get it over with.”
I set my fork down on the edge of my plate to take a sip of my own coffee. Now it was my turn to melt because this was the best iced coffee I’ve had in a while. The small smile Ronan tries to hide isenough to help me find my voice. “I’m not here because I feel sorry for you, Ronan. I’m here because I’m mad at myself.”
He shifts from one foot to the other, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “But why are you mad at yourself?”
“Because I let the stupid media get to me. I was so mad about everything else that had happened. I listened to the rumors when you didn’t reach out to me.”
“To be fair, I was a little busy,” he replies. “I also didn’t think you’d want to hear from me since every other message after Indianapolis went unanswered. You made it pretty damn hard for me to reach out.”
“I know I did, and that’s not something I can change, but I am sorry.” I don’t know what would have happened if I kept some kind of communication open between Ronan and I, but at least I would have known. “Did I miss something, though? Because no one knew what happened and I never remember seeing anything on the news about an Olympian being involved in a car accident.”
Ronan picks at the bread on his plate. “My parents didn’t want that kind of attention on me, especially since we didn’t know what it meant for my career. They made the story go away.”
That’s not nearly as surprising as it probably should have been, but I still can’t help but ask. “So they were supportive through the healing process? Your parents, I mean.”
“God, no.” The dry, choked laugh he let out breaks my heart. “I didn’t expect them to be. They hired every nurse and physical therapist I needed, but they weren’t there for me at all. I wasn’t in a great place after the accident; there was a lot of survivor’s guilt, and I was mad about losing swimming. Swimming was the last hope I had of ever having a normal relationship with my parents.”
I could picture it, and I hated the mental image so much. Ronan doing the bare minimum to survive, ignoring advice and guidance from his doctors, drowning in the guilt of survival every second.
“What…” The question dies on my lips, not wanting to ask it. Not knowing how to ask it correctly.
“What got me back on track?” Of course, he knew what I was trying to get at. “You won’t believe me if I said it.”
I match the small grin he gives me with one of my own. “Try me.”
He pauses for a moment, staring me down like he’s trying to figure out what my reaction would be. “Did you know Bryce Clark is one stubborn asshole?”
My jaw drops open. “No way.”
Ronan nods with a light laugh. “He flew out to California whenever he could—always made a point to be around when my physical therapist was there. When he found out there was no physical reason for me to not be walking on my own, he lost his shit, and gave me the tough love I needed. He reminded me that there was more to live for and refusing to do it was an insult to the person who didn’t walk away from the crash.”
Ronan clears his throat, combing his fingers through his dark hair. “The worst part is he was right then and is still right now. There are so many people out there who never get a second chance, not like this. Why would I waste it? And you know what? If there had never been a chance I would walk again—if I never got better in that way—my life wasn’t over. And Bryce would have been there to remind me of that, too.”
In the year after Ronan retired, there were meets Bryce didn’t attend. Huge opportunities for the national team that he, and sometimes Carter, were absent from. When Josie or I asked about them, the team brushed us off, saying they had to take care of somethingpersonal. It was Ronan. Bryce stepped up to offer the support Ronan needed when his own family failed him.
“Does Josie know?”
Mouth full, Ronan shrugs. “I’m not sure what she knows. Between your reaction and the overall way she treats me, I don’t think she knows. Which is something I need to talk to him about; I don’t want any more secrets.”
“The way she treats you? Are you referring to the way my empathetic best friend’s eyes well up like a puppy whenever someone gets so much as a paper cut?”
He grins around his fork, nodding. “Yup. Imagine what she would do if she saw the scar on my hip and leg.”
I laugh lightly, but my eyes dart to where I suspect the scar to be. If he notices the movement, he doesn’t say anything. “But you’re okay now, right?”
“Aside from chronic pain and a total shift in life, I’m good,” he promises me. “Therapy has helped a lot. Both with dealing with my accident and everything else.” I nod, chewing on my lip. That he notices. “Come on, Mia. You can’t offend me. Ask me whatever you want to know.”
