“So where is he?” Amber asks. “Staying with his parents again?”
“I don’t know where he is. I don’t think anyone knows. Not even Dawn and Chuck. They came around a few days ago after they hadn’t heard from him. They were both surprised and disappointed he’d left without telling them. I suspect Carter knows. He’s been avoiding me lately when he comes to pick up his standing order.”
“What did Dawn and Chuck say about the baby?” Regan asks.
“I didn’t tell them. I thought it best to wait for Trevor to… do whatever he’s going to do.”
“So this information doesn’t leave this picnic table,” Maddie says.
“When are you due?” Ren asks.
“September twenty-fifth. I’m twelve weeks.”
My chin quivers when I think about the fact that this is when most people feel free to tell the world. But I can’t. I can’t tell anyone else until Trevor makes a decision.
Then again, maybe he already has. Maybe the fact that he’s been gone an entire week without making contact means hehasdecided. Decided it’s too much.I’mtoo much. And that he doesn’t want to be weighed down with a wife he doesn’t remember loving and a baby he has no recollection of wanting.
Addy gets up and comes behind me, wrapping me in a hug. “We’re here for you no matter what. We’re your village. I hope you know that.”
“He’s going to come around,” Regan says. “The old Trevor is in there somewhere. I just know it.”
I sniff back more tears. “I was just getting used to the new one. Parts of him were the same, but parts were different. And I kind of liked the new version of him. Or maybe I just liked the feeling of falling in love again.”
“Trevor 2.0,” Amber says laughing. Then she smiles. “Things have a way of working out in the end, Ava. You’ll see.”
After all she’s been through in her life, she’s definitely one to talk. I just hope she’s right. Because at this point, I can’t imagine my life without either Trevor. As much as I’ve tried to fight it, I might just love them both.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Trevor
Even though we’ve been in contact, I haven’t told Chuck and Dawn about the baby yet. I don’t think Ava has either. They would have said something to me for sure. Encouraged me to be the stand-up guy everyone tells me I used to be.
Should I even have to be responsible for a woman who got pregnant without my knowledge? Maybe I should hire a lawyer and see what my options are.
But I’m smart enough to know it would be the end of things if I went there.
Am I prepared to end things?
There’s one thing that keeps me from doing it. What if I wake up tomorrow and get my memory back? What would I think of all this? It’s a thought that has plagued me for two weeks. If what everyone is telling me is true—that I wanted to be a father so darned bad—what would happen if I divorce her and distance myself from a kid I’m not ready for, then wake up one day regretting it all, wanting it back, only for her to have moved on?
What would the old Trevor do?
I know it’s what everyone in Calloway Creek would be thinking if they knew. It’s why I had to get away. Get out ofthe place where there were so many expectations. Here, in the middle of nowhere, nobody is trying to tell me who I should or shouldn’t be. And it’s amazing how much I’ve accomplished without all that noise in my head.
I’ve made a lot of progress toward renewing my paramedic certification. Thank goodness there’s good Wifi here. After a few days of using just my phone, I drove to the nearest town and bought a laptop. Now, I’m halfway through training and have even put out feelers on what it would take to be a doctor again. I’ve contacted the state board of medicine, who told me my situation is very unique—ya think?—and I’d have to undergo extensive neuropsychological testing to make sure I’m cognitively intact apart from the amnesia. They’ll also require me to take the medical board exam along with all the specialty exams I’d taken in the past.
So now, in addition to the paramedic training, I’m studying for all that—even if it’ll be a long time before any of it will happen due to all the red tape. Good thing all I have is time.
My phone pings with a text. It’s another one from Ava. They aren’t coming as frequently as they did a few weeks ago, when she was texting or calling several times a day. I’ve ignored them all, not bothering to read most of them. They all say the same thing.I’m sorry. Can we talk? You wanted this, Trevor.
Again, telling me what I wanted. I’m tired of it. What about what I wantnow?Has anyone stopped to ask me that?
Fuck!
The worst part about it all? I thought I knew. Had finally figured it out. I wanted to go back to work. To make a difference. And I wantedher. Everything seemed to be on track.
And then she had to go ruin all the progress we’d made.
