Free Survival Instinct by Rachelle McCalla Page B

around in her pocket, he figured he should keep his distance. He pulled his hand away.
    An injured expression flashed across Abby’s features. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.
    Guilt immediately replaced caution, and Scott returnedher apology. “No, you’re okay, I just—” He stopped, unsure what to say, whether to bring up the ring or not.
    “It’s okay. I get it.” She leaned away from him and turned her face to the fire. Words slipped from her lips on a whisper. “You’re the strong guy who helps everyone else. You don’t need any support from me.”
     
    The moment she heard the words escape from her mouth, Abby felt horrible for speaking out of place. But it hurt her to see the way Scott took everything upon himself—his mother’s fragility, the weight of the canoe, even her weight, as he’d carried her through the woods. She remembered an article she’d read in the college paper after the football team’s sole loss his senior year. He’d blamed himself entirely for the team’s loss. She didn’t know him terribly well, but she could see the pattern in his life. He was a counselor by profession. He helped others all the time. But she wondered if he knew how to ask for help.
    The way his lower jaw clenched, she was certain her words had upset him. But rather than raise his voice or lash out at her, he asked, “What do you mean?”
    Abby wondered how she could begin to explain. It wasn’t a formal thought she’d had, just a sense of Scott taking on too much and shouldering everyone else’s burdens. “You’ve been tiptoeing around your mother all day, afraid the truth is going to break her. You can’t stand your stepdad but you won’t talk to her about that either.”
    “Abby,” Scott said patiently, “I have a Ph.D. in psychology. I can deal with less than optimum interpersonal relationships, but my mother isn’t equipped with that kind of objectivity. It’s my duty as her son to support her.”
    “That’s great, Scott, but who supports you?” As shespoke, she met Scott’s eyes and held his gaze. For a moment she felt as though she’d seen straight into the depths of his hurt and loss to the boy who’d lost his dad and was afraid of losing his mother, too.
    Then Scott’s jaw tightened and he looked away.
    Abby pinched her eyes shut. She’d said too much. She didn’t know Scott and didn’t have any right to question him, but she felt as though she did. Though their circumstances didn’t warrant it, emotionally she felt very close to him, and it hurt her to see the distance he’d put between himself and his mother. “I’m sorry. It isn’t any of my business.” She tucked her fingers into the warmth of her knees.
    Beside her, Scott’s chest rose and fell with several long, slow breaths. She could almost feel him wrestling with her words, and she wondered if he wouldn’t be more comfortable if she left him alone. Just as she was about to stand, he spoke.
    “I have God, Abby. I have God to support me. He is my strength and my shield.”
    She met his eyes again and saw the strength of his relationship with God resonating in his features. “I’m glad.” She managed a sincere smile. “I’d hate for you to be alone.”
    Peace returned to his countenance, and they sat in silence in front of the fire.
    Guilt continued to nag Abby. She wondered if her verbal attack on Scott hadn’t been in part fueled by her own fear over the day’s events. Ever since Trevor had appeared in her driveway the night before she’d felt as though she’d been running for her life. And while it didn’t make any sense at all—couldn’t make any sense, since Trevor couldn’t possibly have any knowledge of what she’d donewith the ring—she wondered if their situation might somehow be linked to the ring she carried in her pocket.
    After several long minutes Scott spoke again. “I don’t know how conscious you were earlier in the woods,” he started slowly.
    Immediately unsure of