Page 31 of Embracing Trust

I breathe a huge sigh of relief once I reach the gate and see that I can exit and make my escape. I pull open the wrought iron obstacle that divides freedom from imprisonment and let it close firmly behind me.

I make my trek down a residential street in Carter Cove. This isn’t one of my finest moments, but I’m thankful to be away from Luke and his friends. My lip quivers.

I will not cry. I refuse to cry.

I’ll just add this experience to the list of failed dates. Failed relationships. One of these days, you’d think I’d learn my lesson from men. They simply can’t be trusted.

I come upon a small neighborhood park and find a bench. I plop down. Damn, I’m in a jam. Now what? I open my clutch purse to find only my cell phone, driver’s license, house keys, a dollar, and some change, two tissues, a tube of lipstick—berry red—and two sticks of gum.

Unfortunately, Carter Cove is over 15 miles from my house, so walking is out. I’m obviously not riding with Luke and a taxi would cost a small fortune. Besides, I don’t have a credit or debit card with me. And I seriously doubt a taxi would even go that far.

I pull out my cell phone and breathe a sigh of relief when I see I have a full battery and good service. One point for me. Options. I can’t call Merilee. She is in the ER tonight and I can’t pull her away. Kevin and Amy are on their honeymoon, so that’s out. Obviously, calling my mom or Jaime is out. I’m sure they’d love it if I asked them to drive down from Austin or Fort Worth. My friend Cassie is out of town this weekend. Out of desperation, I dial Brad, but it goes straight to voicemail. Damnit. I try Mark and he picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Mark,” I say, sounding as desperate as I feel, I’m sure. “Are you busy? I’m kind of in a jam.”

“Oh, hey Jules. What’s going on?”

“I’m stuck in Carter Cove, and I need a ride home.”

“Oh no. I’d love to help, but Brad and I are in Kansas City this weekend at a car race.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I’ll figure something out. No worries,” I say confidently.

After I hang up from the call, I realize I’m in trouble. I go through my contacts and when I come across Ryan’s name, my heartbeat revs up. I groan. I want to see Ryan again, but this isn’t how I expected our next meeting to go. ‘Oh hey, Ryan. Can I get a ride? The guy who I was keen on just did the worst thing ever.’ Oh geez.

My shaky finger hits the phone number and Ryan picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Ryan. Hey.”

“Jules?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

“I know it’s late. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not at all.”

“Good. I need a favor.”

Thirty minutes later Ryan approaches me at the neighborhood park. I’m on the same bench, barefoot with my $67 shoes on my lap.

“I forgot to ask if you needed a tow,” Ryan says as he sits down next to me.

“No. No tow.”

“How did you get—?”

I look down at my lap. “I don’t really feel like talking about it.”

Ryan wraps his strong arm around my shoulders.

His voice is soft. “You’re shaking. Are you okay?”

---