Seventeen
Saylor
Sleep had been difficult last night. It hadn’t come easy, and when I finally fell asleep around three, I had woken up, just about to orgasm, thanks to a wet dream starring Father Jude.
I wasn’t wearing makeup to go work at the clothes closet, but today, under-eye concealer was needed. I would be damned if the Father saw my dark circles and thought he’d been the cause of it.
He had been.
But his ass did not need to know it.
I was going to finish the rest of the cleaning and organizing, and then I had a meeting with three different stores in Jackson about getting donations for underwear and any other clothes they might have.
Dad had seen me making a list in the great room yesterday afternoon while I was trying not to think about Father Jude and his dismissal of me. He had asked what I was doing and then sent me two different names of people to contact. I had called, and when I introduced myself, they had immediately agreed.
If this was to benefit me, I would struggle with using my dad’s connections and power. But seeing as these were wealthy business owners and they could afford to donate to help those in need, I had no issue.
Dad hadn’t mentioned his concern for my safety, like Mom had, which meant he knew what Gathe had done or I was being detailed and didn’t realize it. I doubted the latter. I was pretty good about spotting someone tailing me.
Walking into Threads of Love and Hope, I smiled at Sister Mena and placed the caramel latte and slice of iced lemon loaf from Starbucks on the counter in front of her. “Good morning, Sister Mena. This is for you. Before you scowl at it, just give it a try,” I told her, then took my own caramel latte and lemon loaf to go check the two Amazon packages that had arrived over the weekend.
I had ordered plastic zipper-sealed bags, travel-sized shampoos and conditioners, toothbrush and toothpaste sets, deodorant, body wipes, lotions, and lip balms—enough to make up two hundred bags. That was going to take a couple of hours, but if the lemon loaf and caramel latte would sweeten Mena up, I might be able to get her to help.
My first meeting in Jackson was at Underneath It All at noon, the next one was at Dollar Dayz at one thirty, and then the last one was at Discount Rack at three. My goal was to get enough underwear for all sizes for both genders to get that stocked and ready for when we opened back up on Friday.
The first box was full of the plastic bags and shampoos. The next three were all the other items. I glanced back at Mena, who was sipping the latte and watching me. Half her lemon loaf gone. Score one for Saylor.
“What is all that?” she asked.
I stood up and spread my arms out at the open boxes before me. “All we need to make little toiletry bags to give out.”
Her brows drew together. “Who donated that?”
“Me,” I replied, not in the mood for her negativity.
“You mean your father. Are you getting him a donation receipt from the church office?”
“No. Not my father. Me. And I don’t need a donation receipt.”
“How much did all that cost?” she shot back at me.
Why can’t you eat your lemon loaf and drink your damn latte and stop being a nosy bitch?
“Does it matter?”
She made a humph sound.
Why, Mena? Why?!
Spinning around, I met her disapproving gaze. “Yes, I was born into a wealthy family. I have money. I am truly sorry for that, Mena. I didn’t choose my life. And I like doing things that make me feel good. That make me feel as if I’m making a difference. I have a bank account that my father funds. BUT I also have money that was given to me for birthdays, holidays, for my high school graduation. I saved it. Didn’t need it. Until now. I have something I want to spend it on. Is that so bad?”
She took a drink from her cup and lifted a haughty eyebrow at me. Sisters weren’t supposed to be haughty. I was sure that was in the rulebook. I was about to go snatch her hairy eyebrow off her head.
“It’s Sister Mena,” she finally said.
What? Oh. Shit. I’d called her Mena aloud.
“Sorry. My bad,” I replied.
She took the last bite of her loaf, then stacked her papers together. “Okay. How are we making these bags?” she asked.
I bit down on my inner lip to keep from breaking into a grin. I’d thawed her some. Friday, I was going to come with a box of hot, fresh doughnuts. She’d better watch out; I’d have her calling me bestie by the end of the month. Okay, that was a little hopeful and highly doubtful, but she was gonna like me.
When Wednesday rolled around and Father Jude had yet to stop by, I knew he was avoiding me. Which was fine. I was a harlot. I had led him down the path of sin. Blah, blah, blah. He hadn’t even seen my vagina.
Since we were closed today and I was here alone, I’d decided to bring my Bluetooth speaker and listen to music while I worked on unboxing and putting out the first donation of panties and bras I had received from Underneath It All. The other two had said I’d get theirs by tomorrow.
Singing along to “You Look Like You Love Me” while taking price tags off bras put me in a decent mood until someone touched my arm and I dropped the scissors and screamed.
“Saylor, it’s me!” Father Jude shouted over the music, which might have been too loud.
I placed a hand on my racing heart. “Computer, turn music off!” I called out.
“Come on!” he ordered.
Still holding my arm, he began pulling me behind him as his much longer legs took off toward…I had no idea where.
“Let go of me!” I tried to jerk free, remembering I was mad at him.
“Stop it! Did you not hear the sirens?” he barked, then swung open the small closet, where we had paper products and some odds and ends inside. He went inside and began forcing me to come with him.
“What?”
“There are two tornadoes on the ground, less than a mile from here. The sirens have been going off for the past ten minutes.”
Tornadoes!
I rushed inside the tiny space, and he slammed the door closed behind me.
“Why didn’t my phone go off? Or you could have called me.”
He sighed. There wasn’t any light in here, and I was glad. I didn’t want to see him.
“I did. By the third try, I was racing out the door to get down here to you. My guess is, your phone did go off, but the volume level of that music you were playing would have drowned out a nuclear missile.”
“Oh,” I replied.
My heart was hammering so hard that I could hear it. I didn’t like storms. I didn’t like thunder. But tornadoes? Those terrified me.
“You good?” he asked.
I was shaking. No, I was not okay. I wanted my daddy. Right now.
I shook my head and realized he couldn’t see me.
“I don’t like tornadoes,” I whispered as if the tornado might hear me and come after me.
His hand touched my upper arm. I knew he could feel my terror even if he couldn’t see it. “Hey, Dimples. It’s fine. We are safe in here. The building is brick. We are away from all windows and doors.”
My panic attack took a brief pause. Had he just called me Dimples?
“Come here.” He said the two words as if he wished he didn’t have to, but had no choice. Then, his arms wrapped around me from behind, and he pulled me back to his chest.
“You don’t have to touch me.” I tried to sound pissed, but my voice cracked. I sounded like I was about to cry because I was.
His arms tightened. That did help some.
“You know touching you isn’t something I don’t want to do. It’s something I am not supposed to do.”
I rolled my eyes and started to tell him just what I thought about that when the sound of a train stopped me. The rails that ran through this town weren’t that close to us.
“What is that?” I whispered as my eyes burned and fear gripped my windpipe, making it hard to breathe.
“I am going to slide down this wall to the ground and take you with me. Okay?” Jude’s deep voice helped a little. His breath smelled like mint.
I nodded.
He lowered us to the ground until my butt was on the concrete and I was sitting between his legs.
“Now, bend forward and tuck your head down,” he said.
The sound outside was louder, and bringing my knees up to curl into a ball sounded like an excellent idea. When I did, Jude tightened his legs around me and arched over the back of me until I was in a Father Jude cocoon.
I winced and whimpered as I heard things begin to hit the outside of the building. The sounds were so loud that I could no longer hear my heart pounding or our breathing.
“Shh.” Jude’s voice was in my ear. “I got you. It’s okay.”
I wanted to believe that. I really did. But with every loud bang outside, rattling the walls and vibrating the ground, I didn’t know if I could. My chest shuddered as I began to sob. We were going to die.
“It’s okay, baby. I swear I won’t let anything hurt you.” Jude’s words, along with his thumbs rubbing against my arms, where he held me, didn’t necessarily take away my fear, but I did feel a measure of reassurance. “It’s almost over. It’s moving away.”
I listened as the roar lessened. Another sob broke free, but this time, it was because we were alive. We’d made it.
“It’s going. Listen. You’re safe.”
I nodded, reaching up to wipe my tear-soaked face. His hold on me eased, but he didn’t let go of me. I wasn’t complaining because now that death was no longer at our door, his scent was all I could smell, along with his minty breath, and his muscles were all I could feel, bulging from his biceps that I didn’t need light to see. They were impressive enough that I could feel them. Then, there were his hard thighs, which were apparently equally as impressive as they encased me.
Why in God’s name did a priest need a body like that? He never showed it off. No one would ever see it. That was pointless. He spent a lot of time in a gym, but which one and when, I didn’t know. The man was always at the church, working.
The outside was silent. I thought perhaps we should move, but that would mean I’d no longer be held between his thighs, and…well, I wasn’t so keen to end that.
Another siren went off, and I stilled.
“I said there were two,” he reminded me, his voice calming. “The one that just came by went right over us, and we are alive. Not even a scratch. Very small chance this second one will take the same path. But if it does, we will be fine.”
I clung to that, let it sink in, and I willed myself to breathe deeply.
“Lean on me. Relax,” he said, nudging me back.
I sighed as I rested against his chest. I mean, this part of the tornado didn’t suck. If we could just have this and not the near-death experience, I would be all for it. I closed my eyes, enjoying how safe his hard chest felt behind me.
Then, I heard him inhale deeply through his nose, which felt like was pressed to the side of my head.
“Did you just smell me?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the jacket you left at my house is starting to lose your scent.”
I’d forgotten about the jacket. I’d run out of his house, hurt and rejected. And he hadn’t brought it back. He had been smelling it.
I wiggled because the floor was uncomfortable and because I was now thinking about Jude smelling my jacket.
“Be still.” His voice was hoarse.
I thought he’d heard the other tornado, and I didn’t move a muscle, although that wouldn’t do much to protect me. But there was no roar in the distance, no phantom train engine. There was, however, a very hard and—from what it felt like—large erection pressed against my butt.
“I know you’re scared, and this is not the time for it, but…well, he didn’t seem to get the memo.”
I licked my lips. “He?”
“My cock. I know you can feel it.”
I wasn’t necessarily that scared at the moment. Father Jude had supplied a distraction.
“I’d make it go down if I could. But I smell you, I get hard. I see you smile, I get hard. I hear your voice, I get hard.”
I let out a long, uneven breath. “Then, why make me feel like I’m some dirty, wicked slut that you want as far away from you as possible?”
He moved his hips ever so slightly, and I did not believe it had anything to do with the floor being uncomfortable.
“I don’t want you as far away from me as possible.” The timber in his tone deeper as he leaned closer to my ear. The sound of his breathing heavier. “And the only dirty, wicked things about you are the things I want to do to you.”
He brushed my hair away from my neck and lowered his head, then pressed a kiss there. A simple brush of lips should not feel as if it had seared my soul. My head fell back on his wide shoulder, and I let out a moan, as if he’d just stuck his fingers in my panties.
“I lie in bed at night with your jacket pressed to my nose while I jerk off, thinking about you being there, spread wide, showing me exactly what it is you do to your cunt to get off.”
As his husky voice put images in my head that I wanted very much, I grabbed his shin while a wave of pleasure pulsed through me. He rubbed against me again. Another kiss just below my ear.
“You,” I said, gasping, then tried again. “You said you couldn’t masturbate.”
The back of his fingers ran over my jawline, down to the curve of my neck, then over my collarbone. “I’m not supposed to look at you and instantly get hard. I’m not supposed to seek you out because I ache to be near you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve been breaking my vows.” His hand slid down inch by agonizing inch, closer to the swell of my breasts. “ Everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart .” His voice was a hoarse whisper.
“Is that”—I swallowed—“from the Bible?”
“Matthew 5:28. Jesus’s words,” he replied.
No, don’t start quoting Jesus. Touch my boobs.
I wanted to beg, but I didn’t have to. The large palm covered my right breast and gently squeezed. I arched my back, pressing it into his hand. Loving how it felt.
“I tried to tell myself that you were my Delilah. That, unlike Samson, I had to be strong,” he said against my ear. His hand moving to the other breast. “But that’s not fair. It points the blame on you, and it lays solely on my shoulders. I’m as guilty as King David when he watched Bathsheba bathe. Wanting her. Knowing she wasn’t his to take. To have. But he did it anyway.”
I didn’t know my Bible stories, but in the darkness, with Father Jude’s husky, thick voice, I found I was very interested. If he read the scriptures like this in Mass, he’d have a packed house seven days a week. All female.
He pushed the cups of my bra down, freeing my aching nipples, and started rolling each one, pinching them, taking turns as he pushed his hard length against me more.
“I’ve memorized every scripture about temptation, been taught to flee it. Father Gerard warned me that although I hadn’t faced it, my time would come. To stand strong. Work through it in prayer and fasting,” he told me with his voice sounding even darker than before. “And I tried.” His lips touched my neck, and I tilted my head, giving him better access. “But no one prepared me for you. How I feel when I’m near you. When I touch you.”
I trembled, and he let out a low, deep growl.
“Open your legs for me, Dimples.”
He said it again.
“Dimples?” I asked while I spread my thighs until my legs pressed against his.
“I’ve been calling you that in my head since that first day in the sanctuary. You smiled, and the two most perfect dimples God had ever created appeared on your already-beautiful face. I’d known in that moment that I should send you to another church. That you would tempt me. But I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing you again.”
The only nickname I’d ever had was Princess, and I hated it. Gathe had started calling me that when we were kids, and the other guys would from time to time. Crosby had when he wanted to piss me off.
Dimples was different. It wasn’t a name to tease me.
I opened my mouth to tell him I liked it, but his hand moved up my inner thigh until it reached the shorts I was wearing. I heard his breathing hitch as his fingers slid inside. I throbbed, desperate. He moved agonizingly slow. I fought the urge to grab his wrist and shove it inside.
Then, a fingertip ran along the wet crotch of my panties. My hips jerked, and his body shuddered around me.
“They’re wet.” The words sounded tight as if his teeth were clenched.
I wanted to beg for more and laugh at the same time. Yes, they were wet. I was dripping.
He moved the fabric aside, and I wished more than anything for light right now. So that I could see his massive, tanned hand between my legs. A long, thick finger ran along my slit, and a cry tore from my lips.
“Fuck.” His curse was heavy and heated against my ear. “You’re soaked. I didn’t know…” I heard his swallow as he panted. “I didn’t know that they got this wet.”
His words kept me from moving against his palm. I stared straight ahead at the darkness. Realizing what he had just said.
“You’ve never…” I asked, thinking that I must have misunderstood.
There was no way on earth a man who looked like him hadn’t done this. I mean, he hadn’t been born a priest. Crosby had touched me like this for the first time when we were twelve. He also shot his load when he did it, but he had been in full-blown puberty and stayed horny.
Jude began to explore. Running his finger along all the folds until he found my entrance.
“No,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if that meant, no, he had never done this, or, no, he wasn’t going to put his finger inside me. If it was the latter, I might cry. “I’ve never.”
Did that mean…
“You’re a virgin?”
Silence.
If anyone had told me that I would be this turned on by the idea of being with a virgin, I would have laughed in their face. But a pulse of pleasure shot through me, and I felt the small gush between my legs.
He felt it. His exploring stopped.
“What was that?” His voice shook slightly.
“My pussy,” I panted. “I…hearing you say that you’d never done this, it made me squirt.”
He sucked in a ragged breath. “Squirt?”
I nodded. “Mmhmm. When I come, sometimes, I squirt. It’s female ejaculation. But I’ve never done it with someone. Only when I’m masturbating.”
“Jesus.” He whispered the word, almost in reverence. “Yes,” he then said, “I’m a virgin. I’ve done some things, but always above the waist, and that was years ago.”
“Oh God,” I moaned, lifting my hips so that the tip of his finger sank inside me.
That one admission was going to make me come.
Jude began to sink his finger deeper as my cunt contracted, sucking at it greedily.
“Yes, please,” I begged.
He might be a virgin, but he began to pump his finger as if he knew exactly what to do. My thighs fell open further as sounds poured out of me. Pleading, moaning, cries, his name.
“So soft and tight.” His voice sent a shudder through me. “I never imagined it was this slick and hot and small.”
Keep talking.
“Jude.”
“Yes?”
“Do it harder. Use two fingers.”
He didn’t hesitate as he added another and thrust them inside me.
“YES!” I shouted, jerking against him.
His hips began to work in rhythm with mine as his hard cock met my ass. Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck. His free hand grabbed my breast.
“That smell. God, Saylor. I want to bury my face in it. Taste you.”
With that, I peaked. My body spasmed, and his name tore from my lips.
He slammed his thick length against my bottom, and I felt him tremble and jerk his fingers deep inside me. Another small gush came at the thought of him coming in his jeans from touching me. Our heavy breathing filled the small closet as we sat there. His fingers still buried in my pussy. My inner walls clenched.
Loud banging interrupted the bliss, and I sprang forward. Jude’s fingers left me, and I felt an immediate loss as his hand slid out of my shorts. He began to tug the cups of my bra back over my boobs, and I helped him.
More loud banging.
“What is that?” I asked. Or rather, who was that? I heard voices now.
“I don’t know,” he said, standing up behind me.
I started to do the same, and he leaned down to help me up.
Jude reached around me and pushed open the door. My eyes squinted at the light coming in through the windows. The banging on the door rattled it.
Then, a familiar voice shouted, “SAYLOR!” and my eyes widened.
I spun around and looked at Jude, who was frowning.
The door came flying open, and Linc Shephard came storming inside, followed by Gathe; his older brother, Locke; and Bane Cash.
Several things happened in that moment. Linc and Gathe spoke at the same time.
“Are you okay?” Linc’s face was a mixture of concern and relief.
“What the fuck?! You scared the shit out of me!” Gathe shouted.
Linc’s eyes swung past me to Jude. I wanted nothing more than to be back in that closet with him. For these four to be gone. But that wasn’t happening.
“Your phone broke, Princess?” Locke drawled. His mouth a grim line and his expression one of disapproval.
Bane said nothing. I’d not seen him in months. The older brother of the boy I had loved most of my life. Someone I had once seen daily. Spent time at his house. He felt like a stranger now. His eyes flicked toward where Jude stood, then back to me before they dropped to the ground. At least there was no scowl of disapproval, like Locke had given me.
I had to do damage control. Standing here, being silent, wasn’t the answer. But they had just interrupted me enjoying the comedown from the best orgasm of my life. I hated them all a little bit for that.
“I didn’t have my phone,” I began. “I was cleaning and playing music on my laptop through my speaker. It was loud. You know how I listen to it. Anyway, I didn’t hear the sirens or my phone. Father Jude came running in and got us to the closet, and we sat there and waited it out. But I am fine. See,” I said, looking around. “It didn’t do anything to the building. It was just loud.”
Linc cut his eyes to Gathe, then Bane, and I could tell they were having a silent conversation. I wanted to shove them all out the door and lead them on their merry way. I had to explain them all now to Jude. He was going to think I had a ton of overprotective cousins.
Gathe’s eyes cut to Jude, and I stepped over, blocking his view.
Asshole. Don’t you say anything stupid. My teeth clenched as I glared at him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Gathe told me. Then pointed to the windows. “An F3 tornado just came right over you. We didn’t know where you were. We couldn’t get to you. I think I had five fucking heart attacks on the way here. We watched as an F2 touch down two miles from here on our drive to get you.”
I frowned. I found it very unlikely that an F3 had gone over us. The roof was on, and the windows were all fine. Sure, it had been bad, but an F3 was devastating.
“An F3?” Jude asked, walking past me and toward the door in quick, long strides.
I hurried behind him. He was not leaving without us talking—once I got rid of these four. I opened my mouth to say something when I stepped outside and almost ran into Jude’s back. He’d stopped. Frozen. I moved to stand beside him, and we both took in the scene around us.
Cars looked as if they had been picked up and tossed. Mine was completely gone. A red Jeep was upside down in the church parking lot. The sign for the church appeared as if someone had taken it and twisted it like a piece of paper. Vapiano’s roof was peeled back like a can of sardines, and every window was shattered. There were store signs, a trampoline, lawn furniture, bicycles, and other random items littering the streets, the front lawn of the church, even on the roof of the bank on the other side of Vapiano.
From where we stood, it seemed like most of the church’s windows were intact. I only saw one that appeared shattered. But there could be more around the side and back.
The only vehicle not affected was the black Escalade that was parked beside us. The one that I knew belonged to Linc Shephard. It had bulletproof windows, the tires reinforced with Kevlar, and it could drive on its steel rims if needed. It was used for business. Family business.
“As you can see, we were fucking scared shitless,” Gathe said behind me.
“We need to take you home. Your mother is bordering on hysterical, and your father wants to see you,” Linc informed me.
“I’ve sent a text to Gannon.” Bane spoke for the first time. “They know she is safe, but are expecting her.”
Her. He was talking about me as if I weren’t standing right here.
Jude turned to me. “I have to go check on things at the church. Then parishioners. See who needs help.”
There it was again. He was shutting me out. Just like at his house on Sunday. The guilt and regret in his expression gutted me every time. I didn’t want to be a regret. I wanted to be…special. Cherished. Wanted.
I wanted to be loved.
I nodded my head, but said nothing more.
He looked back at the men behind us. I hadn’t even introduced him.
“I’m sorry that you were scared. It happened fast, and there was no time for Saylor to make any calls or even grab her phone.”
Linc stepped forward. “Thanks for getting her to safety,” he said. Then added, “Father.”
Jude’s smile didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s Jude. No need for the formalities.” He shifted his eyes to Gathe. “Gathe. Good to see you again.”
Gathe smirked.
Why was he smirking? I was going to slap that smirk right off his face.
“Father. Oh wait, Jude.”
The tension in Jude’s stance as he nodded his head, then turned to walk back toward the church without looking at me again only made the ache in my chest sink further into my stomach. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to go help him. There would be a lot of cleanup. But did he want me to? He’d acted like I was the last person he wanted to see.
When he was far enough away, I turned to look back at the men behind me. “I need to stay and help clean things up.”
“No,” was Linc’s one-worded response.
He was NOT my father, and I was NOT in the Mafia. I was a daughter who had been born into it.
I placed a hand on my hip and gave him a challenging look. “Listen. I am fine. See?” I held up both arms, then put my hand back on my hip. “I didn’t need the calvary. I was safe.”
“In a closet with Father Jude.” Locke’s tone wasn’t teasing. It was accusatory.
I swung my gaze to him. “Does that matter?”
“He’s a priest.”
“And you’re not Catholic. What do you care?”
He cut his eyes at Bane.
Bane shook his head once at him and said nothing. What was that about?
Gathe took a step toward me. “Look, we are worried about you getting hurt. Sure, I teased you about it before, but I didn’t know things had escalated beyond the eye-fucking.”
“How do you know things have escalated?” I shot back at him.
He raised his eyebrows. “Because we just walked in on two people who had just gotten off. Even if your faces hadn’t been flushed, your shirt was all crooked, and there was a slightly darker shading on the crotch of the Father’s jeans. Plus, it had been over twenty minutes since the tornado had passed over here. And you were just coming out of the closet.”
Shit.
I let out a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes. Could I not have anything to myself? Did they all have to know my business?
The military-grade Hummer that belonged to Luther Levine pulled up.
Great. More people I did not want to see.
The back door opened, and Than Carver climbed out.
Luther rolled down the driver’s window. He looked from me to Linc. “Everything good?”
“Fuck, Saylor, that shit ain’t funny,” Than scolded me like a child. “When a motherfucking tornado is coming your way, you answer the phone and reassure us that you’re safe so we don’t lose our shit.”
He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug. That made it impossible to be annoyed with him. I hugged him back.
I’d struggled with seeing him after Crosby’s death. Although it had always been the four of us—me, Gathe, Than, and Crosby—Than had been Crosby’s best friend. Gathe had been mine. Was mine. Seeing Than now reminded me of Crosby, but not the bad stuff. He reminded me of the good times. The ones when it had been all of us against the world. Before I had changed. Become someone I thought Crosby wanted. Tried to be perfect for him. Not caring about what it was that I wanted.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “My music was too loud. I didn’t hear my phone.”
He released me and looked at the building behind me. “Seems it survived just fine. The windows held up well. The roof was what I wasn’t sure about.”
“Father Jude put her in a closet with him, so she was extra safe,” Gathe said.
Than raised his eyebrows as he looked down at me. “Smart. Add Jesus for extra security.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, Jesus, nor God, was in there with them,” Gathe said. “I’m one hundred percent sure our Princess has led the man of God to sin.”
“Well, damn,” Than muttered.
Shoving away from him, annoyed once again, I stalked over to the Hummer. “Does anyone know where my car is?” I asked before climbing into the back seat. I refused to ride with Gathe.
“Down in front of the Baptist church,” Linc replied. “I’m guessing it’s totaled.”
I sighed heavily, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back on the seat while staring over at the church. Either I had to draw a line with Jude or accept this was always going to happen. He was going to shut me out. No matter what he said in the heat of the moment, he wouldn’t feel the same when it was over.
“Forgot your purse, computer, and phone,” Than said, sliding them inside on the seat.
“Thanks,” I replied, pulling them toward me.
“Why are you pouting?” Luther asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror. “The Bentley is insured. You get to pick out a new car.”
I shook my head and said nothing. The fact that he thought I was upset over my car just proved how shallow they all thought I was. Jude didn’t see me that way. I was different with him. I felt…alive.
If only being with me didn’t leave him feeling as if he had fallen from grace.