Page 105 of Glorious Ruin
My knuckles went white on the steering wheel, a lethal, dark fury flaring in my chest.If I ever find out his name,I thought to myself. “You aren’t on your own. You have a valley full of Reeds, and you have me. That kid is going to have more uncles and protectors than he knows what to do with.”
“Can I ask you another random question?”
“Go for it.”
“What’s your middle name?” she asked, her tone light and curious.
I adjusted my glasses with an index finger. “My middle name? It’s Ian. Callum Ian.”
Josie chuckled, nodding her head. “My name came from our grandmother. But Callum Ian… God, your name is sopainfullyIrish.”
I snorted, letting out a defensive huff as I turned the truck into the parking lot of the Regional Medical Center. “It’s not Irish, kid. It’s Scottish. I’m Scottish. My bio parents moved to the States just before they got pregnant with me.”
Josie raised her eyebrows in mock confusion. “Huh. Scottish? Are you sure? Because I don’t see the resemblance.”
I cut her a sharp, amused glare as I threw the truck into park. “Are you kidding me? Did you not see the formal kilt I wore in Puerto Rico for Heatwave? The one the dirt sheets talked about for three days?”
“Honestly? I thought that was just an Irish thing.”
I shook my head in mock exasperation. “I am surrounded by uncultured southern heathens.”
The nurses were efficient, running the standard blood panels and conducting a quick, routine ultrasound to verify the viability of the pregnancy.
“Alright, Miss Reed,” the doctor said kindly, turning off the monitor. “The blood work looks great. You are officially ten weeks along. The fetal heartbeat is strong and perfectly healthy. But you are entering your second trimester soon, which means you need to be seen by an OB/GYN for a formal prenatal routine within the next two weeks.”
Josie scrambled off the examination table, her feet hitting the linoleum as she began to pace the small room. Her breathing escalated into a frantic, short,hyperventilating wheeze. Her eyes went wide and vacant, staring right through the drywall.
It was a total mirror image of Silas’s panic attacks.
I stood there, a profound sense of bizarre recognition washing over my brain. It was a genetic trait. The Reed DNA carried a specific, volatile brand of anxiety that completely short-circuited their logical minds when the pressure got too high. “Josie, stop. Look at me.” My voice was a deep, unyielding rumble of pure calm. “Right here, kid. The baby is healthy. You are healthy. The hard part is over. Sync your breathing with mine. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Come on.”
I took deep, slow breaths, and just like Silas always did, Josie instinctively anchored herself to my rhythm. Her chest stopped heaving, the wild, vacant terror slowly draining from her eyes as she let out a long breath.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice raw. “And God… I feel so sick. The hunger just hit me out of nowhere, and if I don’t eat right now, I’m going to throw up on your boots.”
“What’s baby Reed demanding?”
“Ice cream. Definitely chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, or I’m going to die.”
“Say no more, kid. Let’s go.”
We drove straight through downtown Wilmington. I parked the truck near the old wooden boardwalk of the riverfront. The ice cream shop was packed with holiday tourists. We sat down side-by-side outside of the shop with our ice cream. The wind was biting, but Josie was completely oblivious to the cold, furiously eating with a plastic spoon like her life depended on it. I rested my elbows on my knees, staring out at the distant bridge across the river.
“I know you’re terrified. I’m here, completely. Even when the suspension ends, and Si and I have to go back on the road, even if we’re halfway across the country in a different time zone, I’m just a phone call away.”
She put the cup onto the bench, turned, and threw her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder. She wept with deep, overwhelming gratitude. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight against the cold wind, letting her feel the unyielding security of my promise.
“Thank you,” she sobbed into my leather jacket. “That’s… Cal, that’s exactly what I need. I just needed to know someone had me.”
“I’ve got you, kid. Always.”
The sun had completely set by the time we drove through the iron gates of the Reed land. I went straight down the gravel road, pulling into the driveway of Scott’s house.
The second we walked through the front door, the house was a buzzing, warm hive of Christmas Eve preparations. The kitchen was alive with the sound of clinking pots and shouting voices.
Silas sat on the living room sofa, looking completely exhausted, a poorly wrapped box hidden behind his feet. The second he saw me, his face lit up with a relieved smile. He stood up, completely oblivious to the emotional demolition derby Josie and I had lived through, and started walking toward the foyer.
“You’re finally here!” he called out. “We’ve been back for an hour. Come on, let’s head back to our house. I want to show you what I found in town before—”
