Page 67 of Embracing Trust

“It’s getting late,” she said looking at her watch again. “And this weather is getting worse.” She peered out the curtain into the night sky. “Texas hasn’t seen an ice storm like this in years.”

As a reminder of my father’s absence, the clock on the fireplace mantle ticked out every second.

“Did you call the office again?”

“I did.” Mom sat in the chair across from me. “Still no answer.”

“I’m sure he’s on the way.” I tried to assure her.

The doorbell rang and broke the silence. Mom froze in place for a moment before she slowly rose from her chair and went to the front door. I followed her but stood a safe distance behind her—gripping the stairway’s railing as she opened the front door.

My stomach dropped when Mom opened the door to a county sheriff on our icy stoop.

“Mrs. Crandall?”

The sheriff shared the news. My father’s car was found partially submerged in Franklin’s Creek—just off Highway 65. The icy roads contributed to the accident that killed my father along with a female passenger, his mistress.

News traveled quickly in our small town and made an already horrible situation even worse. Mom was embarrassed. Within a few short weeks, Mom managed to get a second job. Jaime and I were left alone most evenings to fend for ourselves. Within a few months, the little house we’d grown up in was sold and Mom moved us to Claremont.

If only my father didn’t invade my mind. If only I could learn to handle difficult situations without thinking the worst. I suspect Ryan’s mood had more to do with his time in Afghanistan than it does with anything I’ve done.

The insecurity. It lives in me. It gloms onto me and won’t let go.

I want nothing more than to find a way out of this pool of doubt and trust the man who gives me a passion for life.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Ryan

I pound the steering wheel as I drive back to Hamilton from Julia’s house. My gut burns like someone lit a match and the ache is more than Luigi’s garlic. I hurt Julia—the most important person in my life. When I said I wasn’t staying for the night, her face was so sad. I was afraid she was going to cry. I’m such an asshole.

I have to get through this. Just a little pain now until Aubree goes back to North Carolina.

I have missed Julia so much this past week and wanted nothing more than to spend the night with her—hold her and love every inch of her all night. Even if I did manage to get any sleep at her house, it’s almost guaranteed the nightmares would find me.

Not telling Julia about Aubree is playing a dangerous game. Eventually, I will tell Julia—I’ll have to. But it has to be when I’m ready. I can’t risk being judged, but this secret weighs on my heart like a boulder. She’ll wonder how careless I am. How irresponsible. And to admit I never cared much about Aubree, and I was drowning my feelings with sex, makes me look like a selfish bastard.

Patrick and Lydia encouraged—no, insisted—that I tell Julia about Aubree and the pregnancy. There were so many times tonight when I wanted to tell her—to just blurt it out, but I couldn’t.

It’s not just Julia I’m going to have to face. It’s my parents. Besides being judged, they’ll let me know—in no uncertain terms—that I screwed up. This whole thing with the pregnancy is surreal to me. I never imagined myself facing an unplanned pregnancy—especially not with someone I don’t want to be with long-term.

I have an appointment with Gary Bishop, the attorney, on Wednesday afternoon—only five more days. Patrick and Lydia helped me find him. Hopefully, he can help me get a paternity test and either way—Aubree will go back to North Carolina.

If the situation turns out I’mnotthe father, then I won’t have to tell Julia about Aubree and admit what a mess I was back then. If it turns out Iamthe father, maybe it won’t even matter, because Julia may not want to stay with me.

My brain is hardly capable of making even the easiest decisions. I can’t think straight and trying to form any sort of rational decision about my future is foggy.

I pull up on the street in front of Patrick’s house. When I reach the front porch, I take the steps two at a time and let myself in the front door. The living room is quiet, but I hear voices in the dining room.

“Hey Ryan,” Lydia calls out.

“Hey, guys.”

Although heading to my room for the night sounds better, I pad through the living room into the dining room. Lydia and Patrick are at the dining room table.

“What’s up?” Patrick asks and takes a drink of iced tea.

“Home for the night.” I shrug.

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