Page 96 of Finding Our Reality

Eventually, he calms enough for us to finish the interview. He has no idea who the guy is.

With red eyes, he walks us to the office door. He shakes my hand and hugs Lulu tightly in his arms. As we’re walking out, he calls after her. “Ella?”

My hand finds the small of her back, holding her close, when she turns to him. “Yeah?”

“My son’s name is Jackson. My daughter’s name is Caroline Olive. We call her Ollie.”

Lulu gasps and her hand flies to her heart. “Oh, Caleb.” She sniffles, “I’m honored. And I know she would be too. Thank you, thank you for loving my sister the way you did.”

Chapter 31

ELLA

He’s waiting on me when I come out of the restroom. “I’m gonna finish filling up. Grab me a bottle of water?”

“Sure.”

Ry turns to walk out the gas station door, but stops in his tracks. I’m about to ask him what he’s doing when he plants a soft kiss on my temple and smiles.

He’s done everything possible to cheer me up since we left the interview with Caleb. He thinks he’s being sly about it, but he’s not. It’s pretty obvious what he’s doing, and it’s making me fall even more in love with him.

As if that’s possible.

He drove forty minutes out of the way, through Atlanta traffic, to take me to a late lunch at a sandwich spot he read about that has mind-blowing Philly cheesesteak sandwiches. Instead of listening to his normal rock music, he downloaded a new crime podcast and has been patiently listening to that during our drive back home. He’s held my hand, caressed my back, and now, gently kissed my temple.

I grab a bottle of water from the cooler and search for something to drink for myself. I’m completely taken aback when my eyes settle on something familiar—Slayton’s Southern Blackberry Tea. I didn’t even know they still made it. Snatching it up, I quickly pay for the drinks and head back out to the gas pumps. Ry’s leaned against the bed of his truck, pumping gas. Sensing my presence, he turns around. I stop on the sidewalk and hold up my hand, waving the drink around in the air. Heflicks the ballcap higher on his head to get a better look. I love it when he does that. Even from here, I can see the arch of his eyebrows.

Laughing, I take a step off the curb when something catches my attention from the corner of my eye. There’s a large SUV with a mom trying to pay for gas at the pump. A young girl, about ten or eleven, is talking to her. It sounds like she’s asking about going to a friend’s house. A little boy, about six or seven, is next to them, trying to interrupt. He’s wanting to go inside the station to get a snack and is asking for money. The mom is trying to listen to them both, but the machine keeps beeping at her, warning her that her credit card isn’t working. Right then, the back passenger-side door opens and a small little boy, about three or four, jumps out of his booster seat. For a split second, he wobbles and then takes off running toward the front door of the gas station.

Running toward me.

The plumber’s van reversing out of the parking spot in front of the store can’t see him.

There’s no way they can see him.

Everything else happens in slow motion. It feels like I’m moving in water, like my limbs aren’t moving as quickly as my brain tells them to. It’s frustrating. It makes me angry. I feel like I’m trying to run a marathon in a dream, drugged and sluggish.

I throw the drinks and my wallet on the ground and race across the asphalt. Panicked and determined. Scared.

I think Ry shouts my name, but I’m not sure.

My arms wrap around the little boy. I feel the air whoosh from his lungs in surprise. I don’t even have time to turn around. I basically jerk his body to the side, placing myself between him and the van, and run sideways, trying to gain clearance from the vehicle. It slams on the brakes and stops right when my foot tripsover the curb. I fall flat on my back with the little boy on top of me.

He immediately starts screaming and crying. I sit up, searching his body for injuries. He’s okay.

He’s absolutely perfect.

I lie back down on the sidewalk as everyone rushes to my side.

And I watch in silence as my blood pools against the steaming hot sidewalk.

***

I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. “How much longer can you pace around? You’ve probably walked five miles back and forth across this room.”

Ry grabs his ballcap and turns it around backward on his head. I love it when he does that too. “They should’ve come back by now to check your head.”

“They already told you that I don’t have a concussion. That bump was nothing. I’ve hit my head harder than that on a headboard.”

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