“Laurel County Dispatch.”

I go into my spiel, telling them who I am and telling her I just want to know if Ryan’s okay or if they can patch me through to him.

“I’m sorry, you aren’t immediate family we can’t give that info out while someone’s on shift.”

“We may not be blood-related, but I carry his baby,” I tell the woman on the other end of the line.

“Unless you wear his ring, have his last name, or a marriage license, I simply can’t give you the information you’re asking for.”

I hang up because it’s not in me to be rude to this woman. I still remember how my mom raised me and the fact she’s sitting right next to me. “I’ll call Trevor,” I decide. “He’ll know.”

As I listen to the phone go to voicemail, the tears come, they glide down my face and neck, until they’re stopped by the pearls I always wear. Reaching up, I grab hold of the pearl stud Ryan gave me for my birthday at the Alabama game.

“I never told him I loved him, mom. I never told him. What if he died wondering? I didn’t tell him,” I bury my head in my hands, sobbing, letting my entire body take on the regret I feel.

“Honey, he knows,” Mom rubs my back, speaking to me in soothing tones.

I can’t breathe, I feel the suffocation of the room, of all the eyes on me. “Not if he’s dead, mom.”

“Why don’t we go home?” She offers. That way you’re there if they come for you.”

“No,” I stiffen my chin, hoping it stops trembling. “Ryan knew I was going to be here today. If they’re looking for me, Ryan would tell them where I am.”

I’m aware that I make no sense. I’ve just told my mom he’s dead, but I can’t make myself leave in case he’s not. Why would God do this to me? Why would he give me something worth holding on to if he was just going to take him away from me? I can’t understand.

I grab my purse and phone, running outside as much as I can run. When I get into the fresh air, rain falling like tears from the sky, I inhale deep breathes, trying to regulate my heartbeat. I put my hands over my head, clasping my fingers, expanding my ribcage and hoping I don’t have this baby weeks early because if Ryan’s dead, a part of me just died too.

In the distance, I see blue lights and know they’re coming to tell me my baby has no father. They’re coming to make the notification.

Wiping the tears off my neck and face, I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth. I absolutely will not be a complete and total mess when they tell me. I will make Ryan proud of how I handle this.

The car comes to a screeching halt in front of the cafe, and I do a double-take as Ryan gets out of the driver’s seat. He’s dirty, covered in mud, blood, and I have no idea what else, but he’s alive.

I run to him, crushing my white dress to the front of his once-white shirt. ‘You’re alive,” I run my hands through his hair.

He grabs hold of me tightly, holding me against him. “It wasn’t me, Princess. It wasn’t me, I’m here.”

I can’t say anything. I bury my face in his chest, sobbing. Relief flowing through me, but despair for the other person’s family.

“I have bad news though, Whit.”

Suddenly I look up at him. Now I notice the tension on his face, the utter devastation there, something is wrong. “Who was it?” I whisper because I can’t ask the question out loud. My voice won’t let me make it any higher, my body can’t push the sound out with any more force.

“It was Trevor. The officer in the other car was Trevor.”

“But he’s off-duty today,” I argue.

“He was approaching from the opposite direction. They hit head-on. When I left, they were extricating him from the car. We need to go to the hospital. That’s where they’ll take him.”

“To identify the body?” I whimper, trembling in his arms.

“Princess, look at me,” he grabs my chin. “He’s not dead. He’s not good, I won’t lie about that, and I don’t know what he’s facing, but when I left he wasn’t dead. Dry those tears up, and let’s get your mom. We have a lot of praying to do.”