22. Chapter 22
Chapter 22
BECKY
E arlier today, I had cheerfully agreed to the driving lessons, mainly because I wanted to be there for Weston during his triathlon. At the time, I had been so enamored with the idea of him needing my help that I hadn’t fully comprehended what these lessons would mean for me.
My inability to drive had always made me feel stranded, reliant on others for the simplest of errands. Yet the thought of Weston witnessing my inadequacy, or heaven forbid, one of my panic attacks, terrified me beyond measure. Now, standing in the driveway with Weston, the enormity of what I’d agreed to came crashing down on me .
Weston approached me holding the keys for his truck, clad in soft sweatpants paired with a blue cotton T-shirt that hugged his frame. His cuts and grazes made him look all the more manly. The simplicity of his attire did nothing to hide the strength and grace of his movements. He took my breath away.
“Ready to conquer the roads, Becky?” he asked, his tone light and teasing. He probably thought I was ready to crush this lesson, but the rapid thudding in my chest told a different story.
“About that, I’m happy to help you with your Ironman stuff, but let’s skip the driving lessons,” I said as I started heading back towards the house.
He gently but firmly grasped my arm to stop my retreat. “Not so fast. Today is not about you becoming a Formula One driver, Becky. My goal is just to help take away some of the fear of driving. We’ll take it at whatever pace you are comfortable with. Even if all you do is sit in the driver’s seat today. Do you think you could do that?”
I gulped and glanced at the place where his hand still held my elbow. He followed my gaze and seemed to realize the intimacy of the gesture, but he didn’t let go. “Yeah,” I said, my voice an octave higher than I would have liked. “But just so you’re aware, the extent of my driving experience is limited to bumper cars at the county fair.”
He chuckled. “Well, let’s aim to change that, shall we?”
I appreciated his attempt to ease the tension, but I was on the verge of hysteria. My palms were sweaty as he handed me the keys. Cold and heavy in my hand, they felt like an omen of the disaster that was to come.
He led me to the driver’s side of the truck. “Don’t worry, it’s just like dancing,” he said, comparing it to something he knew I enjoyed. “Only with a bit more metal.”
As I fastened my seatbelt, he settled his large frame into the passenger seat, his presence a comforting yet nerve-wracking addition to the compact space. I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Just take a few deep breaths,” he said. “You can put the key in the ignition if you like.”
I did as he said, but now, sitting behind the wheel, every ounce of my supposed courage vanished. My breaths were quick, and the world seemed to swirl into a blend of terrifying colors. Just before my fears could get the better of me, Weston scooped up one of my hands.
The shock of his touch disrupted my spiraling thoughts for a moment, and I noticed him opening the windows. He squeezed my hand before he spoke again. “ Close your eyes for a second. Can you hear the ocean?” he asked.
I complied, and amidst the violent thumps of my heart, the rhythmic sound of the waves found its way to my ears. “Yes,” I whispered.
“Great. I’m gonna squeeze your hand a few times. See if you can tell me how many times I squeeze it?”
I concentrated as I mentally counted each squeeze. “Um, seven,” I responded, a sheepish smile momentarily lighting up my tense face.
“Yup, that’s right. Now, let me pray for you.”
I peeked at Weston, his head bowed and eyes closed as he held my hand with such gentleness.
“Dear Heavenly Father, please be with Becky. Comfort her, give her peace. Amen.” He ran his thumb over the back of my hand, igniting a series of tingles. A welcome calm draped over me.
I turned my body to face him. “How’d you do that? How’d you chase the panic away?”
He smiled tenderly. “It’s something Jared taught me, actually. Said he learned it from his therapist. Engaging your different senses can help tame the wild thoughts. And God helps, of course. ”
His openness was a warm hug to my nervous soul. “Thank you. Maybe I should take Elle’s advice and try a therapist one of these days.”
Weston smiled, released my hand, and nodded toward the steering wheel. “Now, shall we start this engine? I promise you’re safe with me. I’ll have a tight grip on the handbrake the whole time. So even if you decide to hit the gas, I’ve got us covered. Okay?”
I fumbled with the controls, my every movement awkward and hesitant. But he was patient, guiding me through each step, his instructions clear and easy to follow. Once I had the truck started, we slowly rolled out of the driveway. I could feel his encouraging glances.
Despite the initial fear, a tiny blossom of hope sprouted. Perhaps, under Weston’s calm guidance, I could overcome this fear. I only managed to drive around the block once, but with each laugh, each gentle correction from Weston, driving felt less like an impossible hurdle and more like a dance I was slowly learning the steps to.