Forever Yours

Finding Him [31]

31. Finding Him

Maureen

My head was spinning. I couldn't quite catch my breath. I was tripping over the hem of my sweatpants as I struggled out of them, swiping at a pair of jeans I had flung over a chair.

Get dressed. Get in the car.

I was repeating these basic instructions to myself in my head as I snagged my jacket from the closet and my cell-phone from my desk.

I was halfway down the stairs when I realized I was barefoot and a shriek erupted from my lips in frustration as I hurried back up to grab my sneakers from under my bed.

"Mom!" I called as I once again hurried down the steps.

"Yes?" She was in the family room.

I skidded to a halt, whirled around and popped my head in at the doorway. "I'm going to find Ryan. Talk to Dad; he'll explain everything." I was breathless. My heart pounded with excitement in my chest and I could feel heat pulsing in my cheeks to the same rhythm.

"But what-"

"She can go, Rose," Dad said from behind me. He touched my shoulder as he walked past me into the family room.

Calm down, take a breath, I had to tell myself, feeling that at any moment I was going to burst from all the different emotions fighting it out in my head. "I'll see you guys later. I love you!" I called over my shoulder, jogging towards the front door. Behind me, I could hear my mother questioning Dad but I didn't wait to hear what he would say.

-

I parked, drawing to a slow stop right in front of his house. My hands were sweaty on the wheel and though some of the adrenaline had faded on the drive over, my heart was starting to race again, the blood pumping fast in my veins. Ryan, I was going to see Ryan, I was going to make things okay with Ryan... I was suddenly so nervous I had to take several deep breaths as I turned the car off and gathered my bearings. It was starting to feel like I was having a full-on panic attack.

When I was calm enough to see straight, I slid my hands down the front of my jeans, drying them, as I peered at the house. Immediately, my stomach plummeted. The front door was shut and the house was silent. His truck wasn't anywhere to be seen. Was it parked in the garage? I couldn't tell. In any case, it didn't look like he was home; I'd worked myself all up for nothing.

But I'd just call him. That would solve everything.

I wriggled my cell-phone out of my pocket, scrolling quickly through the contacts.

I hadn't erased his number, though several times I had been tempted to do so. I'd tried, and every time I'd clicked cancel when it came down to the deciding moment. I didn't have it in me. Now I thanked God in one gusty breath that I hadn't.

I waited, my heart racing again as the sound of steady, impenetrable ringing filled my ear. I inhaled deeply, splaying my free hand on my thigh as I tried to get it to stop shaking.

You're just going to talk to him, calm down, I told myself impatiently but my body seemed to have a mind of its own and refused to catch onto the soothing mantra I was chanting in my head.

I counted six rings before it switched to voicemail. My heart squeezed when his familiar voice was suddenly in my ear - a voice I hadn't heard in so long - asking me to leave my name and number if it was important, that he was busy at the moment. I hung up before it could beep.

Then I called again.

And again got the voicemail.

I made a noise of frustration and threw the cell-phone down on the car seat. Like a kid who'd been promised a ride on the biggest Ferris wheel at the park only to get there and realize they didn't let kids on, I felt hot, irrational disappointment come crashing down all around me and tears leap to my eyes.