Page 52 of Blind Trust
“Is your decision to leave personal?”
That grabbed Nic’s attention, and he dipped his chin.
“Brother, I’ve thought about what you said the other morning about doubting yourself, but if you think leaving the agency is going to give you some kind of control over your feelings for her, I can tell you right now you’re making a mistake. I understand the fear you feel when it comes to her and the way she handles the job, but believe it or not, she’s the best version of herself when you’re around.”
Nic blew out a breath. “Around me? The woman owns real estate on the edge of risk, and next to her I look like Mr. Rogers.”
Jack laughed. “No one is confusing you for Mr. Rogers, Garcia. You know there’s always going to be risk involved in our jobs and in our lives. Loving and caring for people is risky. You have to decide which risk you’re willing to accept. Walk away and you’re risking a chance with Lyla. Stay with her and you risk losing your heart to a woman with the middle name Chance.” Jack tapped his hand on the truck before backing up the drive. “Now go get some sleep so you can keep up with her tomorrow.”
17
Lyla finished tying her shoes and glanced out the second-story window of Jack and Brynn’s home. The neighborhood was quiet for a Sunday morning, families readying themselves for church or tucked warmly into their homes enjoying brunch. Safe.
Did her parents and grandparents feel the same way waking up this morning? Her chest burned with the emotion she’d been holding back. Fear for her family, anger at Jerry, and guilt.Lord, forgive me for endangering them. Please keep them safe.
She swallowed. When was the last time she prayed over her family? Their safety? It wasn’t like she avoided prayer...she just didn’t do it. So why now?
Because I’m desperate to keep my family safe.
On the dresser, her cell phone vibrated. She glanced upward as if God could see her smirk. Then answered her phone.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Lyla, honey, how are you? Are you okay? How are you feeling?” Her mother’s questions came out in a rush of concern that caused her throat to burn. “How’s your head? Do you know the signs of a concussion? I told Tom—”
“I’m okay, Mom.” Lyla grabbed a bottle of pain medicine from her overnight bag. She shook out two pills and swallowed them without water. “How are you?”
“We’re, uh...we’re fine.”
Something was wrong. “What is it, Mom? What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.” Her voice grew quiet. “Everything is fine now.”
Lyla dropped the bottle of pills back in her bag. “What do you mean everything is finenow?”
Her mother’s exhale filled the phone. “Etta was having some chest pain, but her doctor came by and checked her out. She’s fine but needs to rest.”
“What?” Lyla sat on the edge of the bed. Etta had a massive heart attack a year ago and another mild heart attack earlier this year. “What did her doctor say? Shouldn’t she be in the hospital where they can monitor her?”
“Dr. Korsh said she’s fine to stay with us so long as we keep her rested and calm.”
Lyla twisted her lips to the side to keep the emotion brimming at bay. This was her fault. All of it. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen and—”
“Honey, it’s not your fault.” Her mother’s soothing tone barely touched the surface of Lyla’s guilt. “I told Etta to let me handle the hunt, but she insisted and it was too much.”
She sniffled. “Mom, it’s more than that.”
Several seconds ticked off, and Lyla wondered if her mom’s attempt to allay her guilt was out of matriarchal duty. If something happened to Etta, would her mom hold her responsible? Would that be the thing that pushed her mom to stop loving her? To be reminded that Lyla was justtoomuch. A tingle began at the back of her throat at how quickly the insecurities of her youth came flooding back. It didn’t help that she’d shared some of her childhood uncertainty with Nicolás. She ran her fingers against her palm, the memory of him reaching for her hand, reassuring her without saying a word.
“Honey.” Her mother’s voice drew her back to the conversation. “I know you and your father and Tom want to believe I’m in the dark about what you do for a living, but they forget that I got the call from your camp counselor because you paddled across the lake by yourself, and from your fourth-grade teacher when you decided towalk on the second-floor handrail at the art museum after seeing the Wilhelm Simmler painting of the tightrope walker, and that I picked up your car from outside a brothel the night you convinced Tom to hire you.” She sighed. “I might not know specific details about your work, but I know you. While I don’t want to imagine what kind of circumstances led to the events yesterday, I can only pray that God will hem you in when your instincts tell you otherwise.”
“You sound like Nicolás.” Lyla sighed.
“Next to your father and Tom, I don’t think I’ve seen a man more scared about what happened, Lyla. Are you sure that young man knows your act was for Mrs. Davenport’s sake?”
Lyla cringed, closing her eyes at the memory of the awkward situation. “Nicolás was as shocked as everyone else to learn about our fake relationship.”
“Mm-hmm.”
