Chapter 5
Mike
When I finally walked out of the church, it was nearly midnight.
But after a long day of running around, coordinating, consoling, and otherwise doing my best to be comforting in this time of need, I was exhausted.
The only thing I wanted to do was collapse into my bed and just cease to exist for a few hours.
Helping people was wonderful. But I desperately needed some alone time.
The night air felt good against my skin as I trudged across the parking lot.
The stars were out in full force, twinkling like they hadn’t just witnessed a town torn apart.
The tornado must’ve taken all the clouds with it.
I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer.
For strength, for guidance, for the ability to be what these people needed me to be even though I felt ill equipped for the job.
I’d only been pastor here for a week before disaster struck. Talk about a trial by fire.
As I approached the parsonage, I noticed a light on in the kitchen. Cash. I’d almost forgotten about my new houseguest in all the chaos. Part of me hoped he was already asleep, tucked away in the spare room. I wasn’t sure I had the energy for more hostility tonight.
I turned my key in the lock as quietly as possible and slipped inside. The living room was dark, but the kitchen light spilled into the hallway. I heard movement, the clink of a glass, and then the opening of a cabinet.
“Hello?” I called softly, not wanting to startle him.
I rounded the corner to find Cash standing at the counter, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He’d found my small bottle I kept for special occasions, tucked away in the back of a cabinet. His eyes met mine, defiant, almost daring me to say something about it.
“Didn’t think pastors kept the hard stuff,” he said, raising the glass slightly.
I shrugged, too tired to be anything but honest. “Jesus turned water into wine, not the other way around.”
That earned me the slightest twitch of his lips, not quite a smile but not a scowl either. Progress, maybe.
“Rough time settling in?” I asked, setting my keys on the counter and shrugging off my jacket. It was meant as a joke.
“Rough life,” he replied, clearly meaning it, as he took another sip. The whiskey was nearly gone. I hadn’t even opened the bottle yet.
I nodded, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “You’re welcome to the whiskey. Just don’t drink yourself sick in my bathroom.”
Cash snorted. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“No, I suppose not.” I leaned against the counter, uncapping my water bottle.
Up close, I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders.
Whatever had happened at that ranch today had hit him hard, though he was doing his damnedest not to show it.
He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, my age, but he looked like he’d been put through the wringer more than once.
It was obvious life had not been kind to him, but I made sure to guard my tone.
I already knew he didn’t respond well to pity.
“Food in the fridge is fair game too,” I added. “You must’ve made a sandwich already.”
His eyes narrowed. “How’d you know that?”
“The bread was in a different spot, and there are exactly two fewer slices than there were this morning.” At his look of surprise, I smiled. “I notice things. Comes with the job.”
“Thought the job was saving souls or whatever.” His tone was dismissive, but there was genuine curiosity underneath. “Don’t you have a quota to hit?”
I took a long drink of water before answering. “No quota,” I smiled. “It’s mostly about seeing people. Really seeing them.” I paused. “Even the ones who don’t want to be seen. And then trying to help.”
Cash’s jaw tightened, and he drained the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. “Well, don’t waste your time trying to help me, Pastor. I’m just passing through and I can take care of myself.”
“Mike,” I corrected gently. “Just Mike is fine.”
He set the empty glass down with a little too much force. “Whatever.” He glared at me, but I could tell the anger was old and about something completely different. “I’m selling that ranch and getting the hell out of this town as soon as possible.”
I nodded, not arguing. “Fair enough. But while you’re here, you’ve got a safe place to stay and hot water for showers. No strings attached.”
“There are always strings,” he muttered, almost to himself.
“Not here.” I pushed off from the counter, my body reminding me how desperately it needed sleep. “Anyway, I’m turning in. Been a long day.”
I started toward the hallway but paused when Cash spoke again.
“Why’d you offer me a place?” His voice was quieter now, less hostile. “You don’t know me. For all you know, I could rob you blind in the night.”
I turned back to look at him. In the harsh kitchen light, with his guard momentarily lowered, he looked younger. Wounded.
“Because you needed help,” I said simply. “And because I know what it’s like to have nowhere to go.”
Something flickered across his face. It was surprise, maybe, or recognition. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that hard mask again.
“Right. Saint Mike to the rescue.” The sarcasm was back, thick and defensive.
I smiled tiredly. “Hardly a saint. Just a guy trying to do the right thing. Goodnight, Cash.” I paused for a moment, glancing back at him with a grin. “Also, if you want to steal the good stuff, you’ll have to look somewhere else. The most expensive thing in this house is the sink.”
I didn’t wait for his response, just headed down the hall to my bedroom.
As I closed the door behind me, I heard the clink of the whiskey bottle against the glass again.
I said another quick prayer. This one was for Cash Callahan, who clearly carried more weight on his shoulders than anyone should have to bear alone.
I changed quickly and fell into bed, my muscles aching from the day’s work.
Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more people needing help, more decisions to make.
And somewhere in all of that, I’d have to figure out how to navigate living with a man who seemed determined to hate everything and everyone, especially me for some reason.
But that was tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, I just needed sleep.
The last thing I heard before drifting off was the sound of footsteps in the hallway, hesitating outside my door for just a moment before continuing on to the spare room. The floorboards creaked as Cash moved around, and then silence fell over the parsonage.
I woke to sunlight streaming through my window and the smell of coffee brewing. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. I lived alone. Coffee didn’t make itself.
Cash. Right.
I rolled over and checked my phone. It was half past six in the morning. I’d set my alarm for seven, but the enticing aroma was enough to pull me from bed early. I threw on a clean shirt and jeans before heading to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
I found Cash leaning against the counter, a steaming mug in his hands. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his dark hair mussed from sleep. He looked up when I entered, his expression guarded.
“Morning,” I said, my voice still rough with sleep. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he muttered, taking a sip from his mug. “Made coffee. Hope that’s okay.”
“More than okay,” I replied, reaching for a mug from the cabinet. “It’s a pleasant surprise.”
As I poured myself a cup, I noticed Cash had cleaned the kitchen. The whiskey bottle was back where he’d found it, the empty glass washed and put away. Even the counter had been wiped down.
“You didn’t have to clean,” I said, adding a splash of milk to my coffee.
Cash shrugged. “Force of habit. Worked in enough shitty restaurants to know you clean as you go.”
I nodded, taking a grateful sip. The coffee was strong, much stronger than I usually made it, but right now that was exactly what I needed.
“This is good,” I said, gesturing with the mug. “Thank you.”
“It’s just coffee,” Cash replied, but there was less edge to his voice than there had been last night.
We stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, both of us sipping our coffee and watching the early morning light stretch across the backyard through the kitchen window. A pair of cardinals hopped along the fence, bright red against the weathered wood.
“So,” I finally said, “what’s your plan for today?”
Cash’s jaw tightened slightly. “Need to call some real estate agents. See who’ll take on a property that’s mostly rubble now.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I paused, taking another sip. “Do… Do you need some clothes?” I offered. “We have plenty of donations at the—”
“No, I don’t need your damn charity,” he growled, cutting me off. “There’s clothes in my truck. I just didn’t think I’d be here that long.”
“You can stay as long as you like.”
“Yeah well, I’d like to stay not at all,” he shot back. “But since Brooks and his perfect little red-headed fiance don’t have room for me, I’m stuck here.”
I took another sip. So much for an amiable conversation. “He’s engaged to Rowan, right? The town vet?”
Cash’s expression darkened even further. “Yes. Town vet. Town golden boy. Brooks’s perfect little partner.”
I noted the bitterness in his voice. “You don’t like him much.”
“Don’t know him enough to like or dislike him,” Cash muttered, but his tone suggested otherwise. “Just seems like everyone in this town thinks the sun shines out of his ass.”
“He’s helped a lot of people,” I said carefully, not wanting to escalate the tension. “Especially since the tornado hit. Been working around the clock to help injured animals.”
Cash just grunted, staring into his coffee mug like it held the answers to questions he wasn’t asking.
“So how do you know Brooks?” I asked, trying a different approach.
“He’s my cousin,” Cash replied flatly. “On my father’s side.”
I nodded, piecing things together. “And your father was James Callahan?”
His knuckles whitened around his mug. “Yeah. The great James Callahan. Pillar of the community. Friend to all.” The sarcasm in his voice was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“I never met him,” I admitted. “I only arrived last week. But people seem to speak highly of him.”
Cash snorted. “Yeah, well, people in this town don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.”
The pain in his voice was raw, even through his attempts to mask it with anger. I’d heard that tone enough times in my life to recognize it. It was the sound of old wounds that had never properly healed.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said quietly.
“Don’t be,” Cash replied, setting his empty mug in the sink with more force than necessary. “I hadn’t spoken to him in almost ten years. Only reason I’m here is because he left me that worthless ranch in his will. I’m glad he’s dead.”
I leaned against the counter, considering my next words carefully. “Family can be... complicated.”
Cash’s laugh was harsh. “That’s one word for it.”
For a moment, I thought he might say more, might open up a little. But then his walls came back up, almost visibly. He straightened, rolling his shoulders back.
“I need to make some calls,” he said abruptly. “Is there somewhere quiet I can go?”
“You’re welcome to use the study,” I offered, gesturing down the hall. “First door on the left. No one will bother you there.”
He nodded curtly and left without another word, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor.
I sighed, finishing my coffee in the silence he left behind.
Whatever had happened between Cash and his father ran deep.
The kind of hurt that festers for years doesn’t heal overnight, and it certainly doesn’t heal because some new pastor in town offers a spare bed and platitudes.
I rinsed both our mugs and set them in the dish rack, thinking about the day ahead.
There would be more coordination at the church, more families needing help, more decisions to make.
But my mind kept circling back to Cash, to the pain he was trying so hard to hide behind anger, and to that handsome face of his that I couldn’t help admiring.
And those green eyes of his… they were mesmerizing…
I shook my head, saying another quick prayer asking for guidance. And then another for my own sake. The last thing I needed was a handsome face to get hung up on. That wasn’t what this town needed right now and definitely not what Cash wanted.
I grabbed my phone and keys, ready to head back to the church. As I passed the study, I could hear Cash’s voice, tense and frustrated as he spoke to someone about the property.
“No, I understand it’s a risk,” he was saying. “But the land itself is worth something, even without the buildings... Yes, I know the market is... Look, just tell me what you can do, alright? I don’t have any other options.”
I moved on, not wanting to eavesdrop. Whatever demons Cash was wrestling with, they were his to face. All I could do was offer a safe place to land while he figured things out. And maybe, if he’d let me, a friendly ear to listen when he was ready.
Possibly a shoulder to cry on.
Perhaps a friendly back rub?
An amicable blowjob?
No. Stop that. No.
I let out a long sigh.
God help me. My one true weakness was damaged men.