Page 107 of Embracing Trust

Dad studies me. “We’ve always felt you—out of all your brothers—were cut out to join me. I’ll be retiring in the next ten years and I would hand it over to you. If you get in with Patrick, you’re going to have to work ten times harder and get nothing. Unless Patrick somehow decides to let you be partial owner, but I don’t see that happening.”

“Can’t you see we only want what’s best for you?” Mom’s eyebrows knit together.

“The problem is that everyone has always been deciding what’s best for me except me. I need to take the steering wheel and drive this myself. Even if I make the wrong choices, I need to do it and be accountable for it.”

“If that baby does turn out to be yours, you’re going to need the kind of money you can get from selling insurance. I doubt if crawling around in the dirt is going to pay to raise your child.” Dad leans forward on his knees.

I let out a breath. “I’m doing okay with my finances, Dad.”

“Well,” Dad starts. “You still need to—”

“And I’m back with Julia Crandall. I plan to ask her to marry me.”

“She knows about all of this?” Mom asks. “All of your—"

“She found out that day she showed up here for dinner. She isn’t talking to me now, but I’m working on it.”

“I’m sure if that doesn’t work out, you’ll be able to find someone who can accept what you’ve done.” Mom purses her lips.

“What I’ve done?”

Mom rolls her eyes. “You had relations with someone you didn’t really care about and she’s possibly pregnant with your child.” Mom uses hand quotes around the word ‘relations.’ “I’m not sure every girl could just set that aside.”

“Well, if someone can’t then they’re not for me.”

“The way you used Aubree is shameful. You should feel remorse and regret your actions.”

“I’m in therapy,” I blurt out. “I’m trying to put my life back together. I need to be around positive influences and people who support me.”

“Listen here,” Mom admonishes. “We’ve done nothing but support—”

I let out a breath. “For now, it might be better if I didn’t come around anymore.” I rise from the swing. “This isn’t healthy for my recovery.”

Dad stands and grabs my wrist. “Wait.”

Mom is quickly on her feet as well.

“I need some time—some time to sort through everything. To move on from Afghanistan. I need to do therapy and get my life in order.”

“We’ll work on things, Ryan. I promise,” Dad begs as he squeezes my arm.

“I’d like that, but it really has to be on my terms.”

“Your terms?” Dad flinches.

“It has to be what I can handle—what I’m comfortable with. I need you to accept the things I tell you and to support me even if you disagree.”

Mom and Dad look at each other.

“We’ve always supported you.” Mom’s voice is soft.

They haven’t always supported me.

“I have some other stops to make. I’m gonna head out.”

Mom grabs me in a tight hug. “I’m sorry you’re so upset with the people who have always wanted the best for you. Your attitude is hurtful.”

“Your mom is upset.”

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