The next morning, as she stood in front of the mirror getting ready for work, Bryce’s photo lit up her phone screen.
She stared at it.
She let it ring and allowed it to roll over to voicemail.
A few minutes later, a text came through.
?Bryce Hubs:
Love you. Hope you slept well.
Give me a call when you can, please.?
Beth stared at that too… then tapped the little heart beside it and set her phone back down.
She wasn’t ready to talk yet.
CHAPTER 44
Late Tuesday night, after returning from the hospital, Beth laid alone in their bed. She rolled onto her side and wrapped herself around Bryce’s pillow. The loft felt empty, and loneliness engulfed her. It wasn’t until minutes later that she realized tears were silently streaming down her cheeks.
Burying her face deeper into Bryce’s pillow, the tears turned into violent sobs that shook her entire frame. When the tears subsided, she finally poured her heart out to God. Her angry and confused voice broke the silence.
“What next, Lord? What else are You going to ask me to deal with? I don’t understand. Why, Lord, why? I know You don’t ‘punish’ like this, but it feels like I’m being punished formy actions in Las Vegas! I know our marriage started wrong, but we’re trying to honor YOU with it.”
Beth struggled to voice her next thought. A part of her knew blaming God wasn’t right, but the broken part of her clung to the knowledge that nothing happens outside of God’s will.
If this was His will, it made her anger burn hotter.
“How could You do this? I don’t like You very much right now!” she shouted.
Drained of tears and emotion, Beth spent the next couple of hours staring blankly at the wall. She wished Bryce hadn’t gone to the convention in Boston—and yet, a small part of her was thankful he wasn’t here to see her like this.
“It’s not fair,” she mumbled around three AM, giving up on sleep and shuffling to the couch to watch TV.
She was done thinking. Done crying. Done praying. All she wanted was for the television to distract her long enough to finally fall asleep.
An hour later, after mindlessly flipping through channels, Beth called the hospital to let the charge nurse know she wouldn’t be coming in. Restlessness gnawed at her. She fidgeted with her phone, repeatedly pulling up Bryce’s contact on her favorites list, her finger hovering over his picture.
Each time, she hesitated.
In true Beth fashion, she started muttering aloud—half-thinking, half-praying, fully conflicted.
“I could always ask him to come home early,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I know he would.”
Then she shook her head. “That’s the problem—he would come home. And I’m not ready to see him.”
Her grip tightened on the phone.
“I should want him here... but I don’t. There’s nothing he can do to change this.”
Beth craved clarity—something solid. A plan. Anything she could control. But hormones had hijacked her logic, leaving her adrift in a storm she couldn’t anchor herself against. Slumped on the couch, she sank into the ache, fear pulling her under with every passing minute.
“I need time to figure this out alone. After our fight, it’s clear he thinks I’m too judgmental. Once he finds out about this...”
Her breath hitched, the weight of that unfinished sentence pressing like stone into her ribs.
He won’t want me anymore.
