Trusting in You

Chapter One: Lucy

We sat down at Patrick’s favorite booth in his favorite diner. The menu was limited, and neither of us needed to look at it because we both already knew what we were going to order. He knew because he got the same thing every time, and I knew because I’d been there with my younger brother so many times that I basically cycled through my favorites without caring anymore.

This time would be steak and eggs. Next time would be a southwestern omelet. The time after that, I’d get what he was having, a Belgian waffle with the syrup on the side. He really was right about that preference. It did make it too soggy if it sat on there for the duration of the meal. Though I was confident it never would have occurred to me to say anything about it if it weren’t for him. 

“So,” I said, sipping my coffee after our favorite server walked away, “Peggy’s here. It’s gonna be a good day.”

“It’s already not a good day,” he replied, his eyes hiding behind his ever-present Ray-Bans.

I swallowed. It wasn’t a good day. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to cheer him up at least a little bit. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. At least you’ll get to stay with me while he goes on the press tour.” 

Patrick didn’t reply, just stared back at me. Well, his face was pointing in my direction, but his sunglasses did their job. I couldn’t be sure where he was looking, and that was the point. Rather than get frustrated when people would try to teach him the importance of eye contact, he’d simply put on his shades and point his face at them. Win-win.

“So,” I tried again, “I know of a brick-building place in San Diego for you to go to when you stay with me.”

His mouth twitched. “Really?”

“Yep. And some of their instructors work at Legoland. And they even have a competitive league.”

“I won’t be there long enough to compete.”

I paused. I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case my plan didn’t work out. I was determined to make his staying with me a long-term situation, though I wasn’t sure how. But I would try. Because he needed it. “That shows you it’s a good place, right?”

More silence, but that was fine because it wasn’t an argument. At thirteen, my brother was coming into the teen-angst phase even though he’d had reasons to be angsty his entire life. I should consider myself lucky that it was only starting now.

Taking another sip of my coffee, I looked out the window and replayed my conversation with our father from that morning. There I was, thinking I was showing up to take Patrick out for our usual Sunday breakfast. Instead, I’d been ambushed with news that would not only turn our world upside down, but would impact the rest of the actual world, too. And I hadn’t even had my coffee yet.

“Why does he have to go?” Patrick asked.

I slid my gaze over to him and put down my cup. “You know how you feel about building with bricks?”

“Yes.”

“That’s how Dad feels about music,” I explained.

No reaction.

I tried again. “Imagine you were a world-famous brick master, doing the thing you love all the time, living your best life. Then it all comes crashing down, and you can’t do it anymore.”

No reaction again.

“Now,” I continued, wagging my brows to play up the emotion, trying to get him to connect, “imagine after wishing for years that you could go back to doing what you loved, you finally got that chance. Wouldn’t you take it?”

“Yes.”

Sitting back in my chair with a small smile, I nodded. He probably didn’t connect with any of that on an emotional level, but it likely sounded logical enough to appeal to him. Whatever worked, as long as he got my point. “Well, that’s why he has to go. Dad feels that way about playing with The Aces. But don’t worry. You’re not going with him. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed slightly at the top of his shades. “I’m not?”

“Absolutely not.”

I’d decided it the second Dad told me about the reunion tour. I just hadn’t brought it up at the time because I’d needed to think through the logistics. And, obviously, see what Patrick thought about it. It was his life, after all.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Patrick, do you remember what touring was like? When you were little. Do you remember what life was like when we were on the road all the time?”

“No.”

I blew out a breath. Part of me was glad for that. As the children of the lead guitarist in a famous rock band, Patrick and I had grown up in a wild world. And being that I was eleven years older than him, I did my best to shield him from most of it. But since Patrick had only been six when the band broke up, it made sense that he didn’t remember much.

Our food came then, so we paused our conversation while Peggy set down our plates. First, she gave me my steak and eggs with a wink. Then, she put Patrick’s waffles in front of him, turning the plate so it faced a certain way, just how he liked it. At first, the two waffles had come with one of them lying flat on the plate and the other resting at an angle on top. After a few times of serving us, the waffles eventually started coming in a perfectly even stack with the grids of each one seamlessly aligned. I’d never forgotten the look on Patrick’s face the first time Peggy put the plate in front of him and he hadn’t needed to adjust it to his liking because she’d already done it. Little things like that meant so much to him. So much, that they were big things.

Peggy placed the little silver pot of syrup on the right side of the plate, smiling down at him, totally unbothered by the fact that he hadn’t even looked up at her. “Here you go, Patrick.”

“Thank you, Peggy,” he said. “Did you tell them—”

“Not to overcook it?” she asked. “Yes, dear. It’s cooked to perfection. Not undercooked, either.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Patrick picked up his knife and fork, cutting his waffles in line with the grid.

“Need anything else?” she asked.

I smiled up at her, grateful, as always, for her kindness. “No, thanks, Peg.”

She walked away then, and we ate in silence for a few moments. Silence with Patrick was never an awkward thing like it was for most people. In fact, sometimes after hanging out with him for extended periods, I had a hard time with how quickly other people felt the need to fill a silence. My dad was the same way. In our family, most things that neurotypical people thought were necessary had proven to not be. Sometimes, it was a bad thing. Like when I needed them to sympathize with me for one reason or another. Other times, it taught me how to have some much-needed chill and not overreact. But that was me. I could find the bright side in all things.

“Anyway,” I said when we were about halfway done with our meals, “would you want that?”

“What?”

“Would you want to come down to San Diego to stay with me?”

“Instead of going on tour with Dad?”

“Yes.”

He looked down at his plate and continued to eat for a few minutes. I didn’t rush him. I knew he was working things out. Finally, he swallowed the bite he’d just taken and bit his lip. “What about Peggy?”

“We can still drive up from San Diego to have breakfast here. It’s not that far to LA.”

“How often?”

“How often would you want to?” I asked, knowing this had to be comfortable for him. I already came up every weekend, if he wanted to continue that, I was game.

“Every weekend.”

“Done,” I said with a nod. “What else?”

“Would I do building competitions at that brick place?”

“Yep.”

“And I’d go to school there? In San Diego?”

“Yes. And likely an after-school program too, since I work full time. But my job at the recruit depot means I won’t deploy, so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s like a regular nine-to-five job.” I bit my lip, realizing he probably didn’t understand or care about nine-to-five jobs enough to know what that meant for him. “Point being, my schedule is very consistent. I think it will be much better for you than going on tour with Dad.”

“Would I have to stop competing if I went with Dad?”

“Yes. But you can do it at this new place I found, remember?”

“Right.”

My heart squeezed in my chest. Even him asking that question meant he had no idea what it would be like to make this change. He had no concept of the fact that being on an eighteen-month international tour with a rock band meant a grueling schedule. It meant being in one place for less than twenty-four hours, no space to yourself while sharing a tour bus, and more sensory overload than he even knew what to do with.

Along with having level 1 autism, Patrick had sensory processing issues. Touching, some textures, and most light and noise were often problematic. When he was little, he had those giant headphones they give kids at concerts or monster truck races. But what no one realized was that while other kids needed them to protect their sensitive ears from long-term hearing loss, Patrick needed them because his entire world fell off its axis when he was confronted with noise like that.

It was all I could do to get him out of the venues before sound check every day, and we stayed away until after the show every night. We’d leave the stadiums in these strange cities in search of parks, libraries, or anywhere peaceful. Just the two of us. Me, having grown up too fast out of necessity, and him, trying to make sense of the chaotic world around him.

So, yeah. Patrick wouldn’t be going on tour with our dad. Not without me there to look out for him. And as an active-duty Marine, that just wasn’t going to happen.

I started to reach for his hand, then immediately thought better of it, leaning away instead so he’d be more comfortable. “Patrick, do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Then I’m going to talk to Dad, and I’m going to get him to let you stay back with me while he’s gone. And maybe even after that, too, if he’s going to be busy with the band again.”

“Just us two?”

“Yep.”

He paused for a long moment, facing me, maybe looking at me or maybe not. Finally, he nodded once. “Okay.”

* * *

The next day at chow, I told my best friend the whole story, keeping my voice low so people wouldn’t overhear me talking about my famous dad. It wasn’t that I hid it or anything, it was just that I hated the idea of drawing attention to it. I hated getting peppered with questions about what really happened between the lead singer and his model ex-wife or about why the band really broke up, when it actually wasn’t that dramatic. They’d just needed a break after ten years of nonstop touring.

Britt listened as I poured my heart out about my conversation with my dad and my breakfast with Patrick, nodding as we got our food from the lunch line. I hoped that I’d actually have the stomach to eat by now, because I’d still been too emotionally tied up over this whole thing to have attempted to eat breakfast that morning. But my stomach was grumbling and I knew a serious hangry vibe was heading my way if I didn’t eat something.

“What are you going to say to your dad, then?” she asked, setting her tray down in an open spot next to a group of drill instructors.

Britt and I were admin Marines, currently assigned to the recruit depot in San Diego. This was the place with the famous yellow footprints where recruits began their journeys, becoming Marines in these hallowed halls. Since we were women, we’d gone to boot camp on the East Coast, at MCRD Parris Island. They’d only just begun allowing female Marines to graduate from here in San Diego, and I had to admit, it was pretty cool to have worked here when the first class came through.

I sighed and took a seat across from my best friend, nodding in greeting at the drill instructors. “Honestly? My mind is a mess right now. I have no idea. But I’m not hopeful.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t he want Patrick to stay with you if that’s what Patrick wants?”

“You’d think so, but no. My dad is totally focused on himself and has a lot of trouble seeing things from other people’s perspectives. He won’t get why this would be any different than last time and the idea of leaving his son with me while he’s gone for a year and a half will probably seem stupid to him.”

“What are you going to do if he says no?” she asked, pulling her lips to the side.

Dread swirled within me. I really didn’t want that to happen, as much as I knew it probably would. “I’m going to fight for my brother. If I don’t advocate for him, who will?”

“Does that mean you’d need to take him to court or something? Like try to get custody of him?”

I thought it over while I chewed the bite of cafeteria-style mac ’n’ cheese I’d just taken. “I guess so. I have no idea how I would even go about that, though. I’d need to research family lawyers or something and see if they’ll do a free consultation. But then again, even if they do a free consultation, I have no idea how I’d pay for their services once I hired them.”

“And your dad has unlimited resources, so even if you found a lawyer you could afford …”

“He would probably suck,” I finished with a bitter laugh. “Crap. I don’t know. Maybe I’m in over my head. I just can’t let my dad bring Patrick out on the road with him. It’s not right. Britt, it might seem like I’m being dramatic, but the whole reason his band broke up the first time was because a few of them couldn’t handle the schedule and wanted to focus on their families. Not my dad, of course, because he thought we were managing just fine. But I’m telling you, it was rough.”

“It sounds intense.”

“It was. Patrick’s life has been so stable for the last seven years in LA. When I think about how his life will be if he goes … I just can’t.”

“Hey.” One of the drill instructors, Spencer Hawkins, nodded at me. “I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose.”

Britt snorted. “Did you trip and fall and land in the middle of this conversation?”

“Fine. I won’t help,” Hawk, as he was called around here, retorted with a laugh.

“No, please, help,” I said, sending Britt a joking glare before turning back to Hawk. “What’s up?”

“I actually know a guy who does pro bono legal work for Marines once in a while,” Hawk said. “He’s a family friend. I could give you his info if you want.”

I stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Yep. He even specializes in family law. Just helped someone I know with a custody case a few months back.” Hawk dug his phone out of the pocket of his cammies and tapped on it a few times before handing it to me. “Here’s his number. His name’s Eric.”

I copied the number into my phone and then handed Hawk’s back with a grateful nod. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“No sweat. Let him know I sent you.”

“Do you get some kind of kickback for this?” Britt asked, playfully narrowing her eyes at him.

Hawk shook his head. “Shut up, Rodriguez. I’m just a helpful guy.”

“Yes, you are,” I said, staring down at the new contact in my phone.

I didn’t know if I’d even need Eric Moore’s services. And I didn’t know if he’d be willing to help me. But since I planned to do whatever I could—whatever was best for my little brother—I was grateful to have a place to start. Even if I did hate the idea of letting someone else get involved with this. Asking for help wasn’t one of my strong suits.

❤️ Legal Drama

❤️ Military Hero

❤️ Forbidden Romance (Client/Lawyer)

❤️ Family Dynamics

❤️ Neurodiversity Representation

San Diego Series:

📚 Forever with You - Vince & Sara

📚 Back to You - Spencer & Ellie

📚 Away from You - Matt & Olivia

📚 Christmas with You - Cooper & Angie

📚 Believing in You - Jake & Ivy

📚 Memories of You - Brooks & Cat

📚 Home with You - Owen & Rachel

📚 Adored by You - Noah & Paige

Related Standalone:

📚 Trusting in You - Eric & Lucy

Note: Chronologically, this one fits in between books 5 & 6 of the Kailua Marines series. These worlds all collide, so if you’d like to read them in chronological order, that’s how it goes! :)

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ So good!

"An unconventional family and the ups and downs and messiness of life. A clean, delightful, and all-the-feels HEA!"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Happy courtship

"I loved how she included autism in the story. Years ago I worked with a doctor who treated kids with autism & their families. Since then I have a nephew with autism. I love the way she wove life events into the story. Great job!"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ An Awesome Read!

"'Trusting in You' was an awesome read. The page-turning plot was filled with adversity, bits of levity, and romance. Furthermore, the protagonists, Lucy and Eric, exuded chemistry. Kudos to the author for including information about teenagers on the spectrum, especially with sensory processing issues. I loved the imagery and other vivid descriptions the author used which helped to create a serene tone. All in all, I really liked the narrative."