Page 105 of Aced (Driven 4)
“So you’re heading back to campus?” Colton says, saving me from having to speak as he leads the way into the living room and motions for him to sit down.
“Yes. Yeah. I spent the night at The House with the gang.” His eyes flicker back and forth between the two of us as he sits down on the edge of the chair before landing on Ace sleeping contently in the bouncer. “He’s getting so big.”
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“Yeah. It’s crazy,” Colton says. He stares at Shane as he watches Ace, and I can see him narrow his eyes to try and figure out the same thing I am: why does Shane seem so nervous?
I want to ask so many things: how is school, how is Zander, is Auggie hanging in there? Do you miss me? But my restlessness only adds to the awkward silence filling the room. Colton finally speaks. “That was cool of you to hang out with the boys. I was thinking maybe in a week or two when Ry is feeling a little better, we’ll have all you guys over for a barbecue.”
And as much as I know Colton is trying to make Shane feel more comfortable, it feels like hands are squeezing my lungs at the mere thought of so many people being in my space at once. He said a few weeks, though. Maybe by then . . .
“Yeah, uh . . .” Shane shifts and rubs his palms down the thighs of his pants. “Well, I stayed with the boys because we had a little house meeting and um, I came here because I wanted to let you know about it.”
I vaguely hear him over the roar of my heartbeat. My curiosity is piqued and internal instinct overrides the depression’s pull trying to yank me back from the edge and protect me from whatever it is that is making him so nervous. Colton’s eyes meet mine and something flashes in them—a moment of unexpected clarity—that worries me.
“Go on,” Colton says cautiously.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, Colton, and after looking at Zander’s situation from all sides, I think you’re right.” Shane wrings his hands and keeps his eyes focused on them as Colton sighs loudly.
“What thing did I say, Shane?” he asks, voice searching, body language pensive as if he fears he already knows.
“About Zander.”
Colton scrunches up his nose in a show of regret and I’m completely lost. My body wants to shut down but my mind fights the allure to find out what’s going on. I look back to Shane, trying to find the words to ask an explanation when I catch Colton mouth out of the words, “Not now,” with a shake of his head.
Panic, my one constant, returns, jolting through my system as I look back and forth form Colton to Shane, both of them realizing I saw the exchanged warning. Something’s going on, and it’s about Zander. I need to know now or else I’m going to go crazier than I already feel. I open my mouth, shut it, then open it again, willing my frenzied thoughts to find the voice that’s been silent for so very long.
“No,” Shane says, standing up to Colton, causing us both to snap our heads to him. “She deserves to know that we’ve voted, and we’re okay with it.”
I blink my eyes rapidly as I try to understand his cryptic comment. I feel like I’ve just walked into a movie halfway through and I’m lost in the plot. As much as I want to be angry at Colton, he obviously fears that whatever Shane has to say is going to knock me back a few of the steps I’ve gained these past few days.
“What?” My voice breaks. It sounds foreign to my ears. My eyes widen as I search their faces for answers. Now it’s their turn to both look at me.
“I’m just trying to fix everything I started,” he says, and I don’t understand what he means. He looks at me with little boy’s eyes in a grown man’s body, begging me to let him help me. “It’s my fault.”
“What are you talking about?” Colton asks, voice demanding yet sounding just as confused as I am.
“I told you about Zander’s meeting with his uncle at The House that day when I shouldn’t have. I should have known better. But how was I to know Zander was going to say things that would cause you to get so upset you’d go into labor? And then we came here to meet Ace. You were fine one minute and then you talked to Z and . . .” His voice drifts off, and I strain to remember bits and pieces from when the boys came. But I can’t—just flashes of wide eyes and scared faces—and I know I obviously frightened them somehow. “I just want you to get better, Rylee. And I want Zander to stay in our family where he’s safe. We all want these things. And I kept thinking if you knew Zander was safe then maybe you’d get better.”
A part of me awakens when I hear his words. I want to tell him it’s so much more than that but the love and concern lacing his tone somehow weave into and wrap around me, warming up the places this postpartum depression has left so very cold. It’s scary and foreign and exciting to feel these things even if it’s just a fraction of what is normal.
“Then I remembered the comment you made, Colton. The one about how you’d adopt Zander if it would fix the situation and—”
“No!” I shout, standing up in protest. Both of them stare at me as I struggle to make my point and understand why that sudden flicker of warmth I felt moments ago is now gone. In seconds, my mind spins in a tornado of thoughts with clarity sharper than I’ve felt in weeks.
Shane’s not nervous; he’s upset. Upset and hurt that in his darkest hour I never thought to adopt him, choose him, and now all of a sudden Zander’s in this situation and Colton obviously told him his suggestion when never in a million years would I even consider it.
The twister spins out of control. Anger, betrayal, compassion, despair, love. They all whirl inside me. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t speak. And yet the feelings within me are so violent, crashing into one another without recourse, that I can’t process them. I begin to shut down. Crawl with my tail between my legs into the darkness because obviously I thought I was stronger when I’m not.
I need my bed. To pull the covers over me and to try and quiet the riot in my head, but I don’t move. Instead I start to hyperventilate, my lungs convulsing as panic takes over my body, so all I can do is sag back down into the couch to try and catch my breath.
Colton’s at my side in an instant. His eyes are alarmed, but hands are gentle as he rubs my back and tells me he’s there. My body burns for oxygen, my blood on fire, and my head starts to become dizzy. I clutch my head in my hands, desperate for some kind of control.
“No peeking, Scooter!” Shane’s voice sounds off. How can it be in front of me when he’s beside me? Regardless, the sound of it pulls me to the present. I open my eyes and he’s holding his cell phone so I can see a video playing on the screen. The camera pans across the room and six heads are bowed down: Connor, Aiden, Ricky, Kyle, Scooter, and Auggie. Curiosity pulls my head above water; the sight of my boys keeps it there as my breathing slowly evens.
“Okay. You ready?” It’s Shane’s voice on the phone, his hand recording, as an array of yeses sound. “We all know that Zander was told today his uncle has been approved to foster him.”
“What?” Colton says in shock, hand stilling on my back, the same time the breath I just got back catches in my chest. My eyes, mesmerized by the sight of my boys again, sting with unwanted tears. Disbelief courses right alongside the panic.
