Chapter 25
Idragged my feet on this thing, but weirdly, with Jed by my side, he made it fun and playful.
Even washing cars could be fun. It was supposed to be simple and almost mechanical.
Something light and stupidly easy. But every time I caught Jed’s gaze across the foam and water, it hit me like a tornado I didn’t want to recover from.
His eyes were that strange mixture of teasing, amused, and dangerous.
Familiar.
My chest fluttered in a way that made me blush despite the cold water soaking through my clothes.
“See, Sayuri,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Always wet around me.” He whispered it, and I knew no one could hear with the chaos of the fundraiser around us, but that knowledge didn’t stop me from turning the color of a beet.
I cleared my throat, grinning despite myself while flicking water at him. He was soaked from head to delicious toe. His abs and beautiful tan were glowing in the sunlight.
“You’re one to talk.” I hissed. “ You are a wet dog.”
“Woof.”
He laughed, softly and warmly, and it vibrated in my chest. My fingers tightened around the sponge. Every little brush of his hand as we passed the sponge back and forth sent a spark crawling across my skin, heated and electric.
His proximity, the subtle shifts of his body near mine, the way he tilted his head when he smiled—it all made me ache for something I wasn’t sure I was allowed to want.
We traded little jokes and secret smiles all day long. The laughter that bubbled out of me was without conscious thought.
I could feel him watching me in the corners of his eyes, always aware, always there, and I wanted to lean in, to touch him in ways that weren’t just brushing elbows and swapping sponges.
Like a damn bubble floating around us, Jack rolled up and blared his horn at us. It was as if the world needed an asshole to ruin the perfect moment we were in.
The truck he hopped out of was nothing short of a filthy, mud-covered disaster. He leaned casually against it, his ogre hands shoved in his pockets, like he owned everything around us.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice low and smug. “Nice seein’ you here, little girl. And with the father, no doubt. Shock there really. Are you two gonna wash this mess, or what?”
I groaned but pushed it down. I couldn’t let men like him see me flinch. Not anymore. Jed’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight, and I caught the flicker of fury behind his controlled expression and something else. I wanted to be angry too, but the tension in the air made me bite my lip.
“Well, your ride is as dirty as your mouth, Jack.”
Jack raised a brow at Jed, but then his posturing returned full throttle.
“Enjoy cleaning my shit, prayer boy.”
Jack left, and as we scrubbed, I could feel his gaze slide over me, slow and deliberate. My blood ran cold. His comments were sloppy, leering, and truly disgusting. “Careful there, sweetheart…that’s some tight ass you got. Don’t wanna break it.”
I froze. A spike of shame and anger shot through me, heat burning my cheeks. I glanced at Jed, expecting him to explode, to yell, to make this asshole feel the wrath he deserved. But he didn’t.
He forced his calm, his hands wringing the sponge like he pretended it was Jack’s neck. His jaw was so tight, it was a wonder his teeth didn’t break. I saw the way his fingers clenched the sponge and the tension in his forearms.
My pulse hammered in response, not just fear of Jack and his callousness, but also longing, a need to be close, protected, and safe, like I always felt with Jed.
“Are you okay?” Jedidiah whispered to me, but I ignored him. Now he wanted to care? When people weren’t watching.
Miranda came crashing into our broken bubble, ensuring it couldn’t reform. Her eyes were wild, and her voice high and frantic. Her poor son was dragged alongside her, his arm in a grip I knew all too well. “Ronan—he—he needs—there’s something here—I just know it—do you hear it, too?”
I stepped forward and placed the sponge on the counter next to the cleaning equipment.
With my hands open in front of me, I spoke calmly and soothingly.
Ronan looked at me, his eyes hopeful as he pulled just the slightest bit away from his deranged mother.
“Miranda, slow down. Look at me. Listen, it’s okay—”
Slap.
I held my cheek in disbelief.
She snapped.
Her words cut through me like a blade that hurt worse than if she actually stabbed me. “Don’t touch my son! You ain’t no mom!”
I froze.
Hurt slashed across my chest, deeper than I expected, and I had trouble breathing.
My son…
He was so far from me.
While I played house with my priest, my son was living in danger.
Miranda was right.
My stomach twisted and fell, the laughter, the soap, the sunlight—all of it vanished in that single moment. Hot tears stung at the edges of my eyes, and I wanted to run, to sink into the ground, and vanish.
Jed’s body tensed from a distance. I saw his eyes flashing with anger across the car, and I wanted to throw myself at him. He was my safe place. I needed to hide against him, to let him hold me and tell me it wasn’t true.
And that was wrong.
Before either of us could act, before I could even reach for him and ensure my bad decisions, the Bishop appeared.
He looked regal and every bit the asshole I met before. His cane twinkled in the sunlight. He walked fine. It made me wonder if the cane was an attachment of some sort. Maybe a weapon.
No, not a bishop. Stop Sayuri. You are losing it.
His smile was polished and calm, yet he reminded me of a predator who had just cornered his prey before the ultimate strike.
“Jedidiah,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, but underneath I could sense the weight of command. “You’re needed. You’re the prize for the fundraiser winner, of course. You need to introduce yourself.”
I barely understood his words at first. I wasn’t told of any reward, and Jed hadn’t either, from the look of insult on his face.
“The…what?” I whispered, more to myself than anyone.
Jed’s jaw clenched, and his hands moved instinctively to resist the Bishop’s grip. “No,” he said, growling. “I’m not some show pony. This is rid—”
My heart shattered further as he was tugged from my reach, pulled across the asphalt. Every step felt like that knife was twisting deeper in my chest. I wanted to scream and run to him.
How can I throw myself at his side and fight whatever was dragging him away without exposing us both?
I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I was here, that he didn’t need to listen to anyone but his own choices, but my legs felt rooted in the soap-slick concrete. Miranda sneered as she threw some unidentified medication into her mouth.
She was so twitchy.
Her poor son may as well have a leash wrapped around his neck. He was trapped.
We all were.
The Bishop’s grip was ironclad. Jed struggled, twisting, tugging, his voice rough with frustration and words I couldn’t hear with the distance. I needed him. Every second I watched him being dragged away from me, the more my heart felt pulled free of my chest.
My hands flexed uselessly, the cloth dropped forgotten to the pavement, while the soap and water mixed and ran over my skin. Every sound in the area that wasn’t Jed’s laugh felt too loud.
Miranda’s muttering, Jack’s idle comments, and the laughter of strangers. It blurred into a haze. All that existed was him, being pulled further and further away from me. There was a sharp, deep ache that threatened to consume me when I could barely see him.
With his absence, I felt the weight of the pain from Miranda’s words, the sorrow spilling into me like hot metal.
I watched Jed’s head turn toward me one final time before he disappeared out of view, his bright eyes locked with mine for the briefest of moments, and something inside me flickered and burned all at once.
His eyes were so full of promise and anger.
I saw it all, every emotion, because I felt it, too.