Chapter 28
Mike
Sleeping was impossible. And the sun was already up now, so I figured there was no point in trying any longer. Instead of forcing myself to stay in bed any longer, I got up and walked to the kitchen, my quilt wrapped around my shoulders to keep out the morning chill inside the parsonage house.
I could barely muster the effort to turn on the coffee pot.
Thankfully I’d had the sense to prep it the night before because even the act of filling the filter with coffee grounds felt like an enormous chore.
As the coffee maker began to come to life, I sank down into a chair by the window, staring out across Sagebrush as the sun slowly peeked above the horizon.
I was broken, through and through. I felt as if all the strength had left my body and I was more exhausted than seemed possible. And all of it had nothing to do with the fundraiser, the church, or being the town pastor.
It was just… heartbreak, plain and simple.
I’d never felt anything like this before. The physical ache in my chest, the way my stomach twisted every time I thought about Cash driving through the night, probably convinced I’d abandoned him. The way my hands shook when I remembered the look on his face as Doreen had torn into him.
I’d called him so many times my throat was raw from leaving voicemails. But his phone had been going straight to voicemail for hours now, which meant he’d turned it off completely. He didn’t want to hear from me, and I couldn’t blame him for that.
The coffee finished brewing, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up and pour a cup.
Instead, I pulled the quilt tighter around my shoulders and watched the town wake up through the window.
A few early risers were already moving around, probably heading to work or running morning errands.
Normal people living normal lives, unaware that their new pastor had just spectacularly imploded his career and lost the man he loved in one catastrophic evening.
I kept replaying the moment over and over in my mind.
The way Doreen had appeared out of nowhere, her face twisted with righteous fury.
The venom in her voice as she’d called Cash those horrible names, blamed him for corrupting me, for ruining her son all those years ago.
And I’d just stood there like a deer in headlights, frozen by shock and fear.
I should have stepped in front of him. Should have told her to go to hell.
Should have made it clear that whatever was happening between Cash and me was my choice, not some manipulation on his part.
Instead, I’d let her tear him apart while I watched, paralyzed by the implications of what our exposure meant for my future here.
The sound of gravel crunching in the driveway made me look up from my brooding.
My heart leaped for a moment, hoping desperately that it might be Cash’s truck, but it was just Dolly’s truck pulling up to the curb.
She climbed out, carrying what looked like a casserole dish, and I realized with a sinking stomach that the sympathy visits were about to begin.
I wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready to face concerned friends or parishioners who wanted to offer comfort or advice about my situation. I considered pretending I wasn’t home, but she’d already seen me through the window and was waving.
The doorbell rang a moment later, followed by her gentle knock. I forced myself to get up, still wrapped in my quilt, and opened the door.
“Hey sugar,” she said, her usually smiling face creased with concern. “I brought you some breakfast casserole. Figured you might not feel much like cookin’ today.”
Her kindness nearly undid me. I’d been bracing myself for judgment or awkward questions, but she was just being neighborly. “Thank you, Dolly. That’s very thoughtful.”
She stepped inside when I held the door open, bustling toward the kitchen with the efficiency of someone who’d been taking care of people her whole life.
“Coffee smells good,” she said, setting the casserole on the counter.
“Mind if I pour myself a cup? I’d like to talk with you for a moment, sugar. ”
I nodded, settling back into my chair while she moved around my kitchen like she belonged there. She poured two mugs of coffee and set one in front of me before taking the seat across the small table.
“Now then,” she said, wrapping her bright red acrylics around her mug. “I wanted to make sure you knew that not everyone in this town thinks like Doreen Blackburn. That woman’s been carrying a grudge for ten years, and it’s made her, if you’ll excuse my language, damn mean.”
I stared down into my coffee, not trusting myself to speak. The unexpected support was threatening to crack what little composure I had left.
“What happened to her boy wasn’t Cash’s fault,” Dolly continued firmly. “Tyler was gay long before he met Cash Callahan. Some of us could see it plain as day, but his mama refused to accept it. Easier to blame Cash than admit her son wasn’t who she wanted him to be.”
“I should have defended him,” I said finally, my voice hoarse. “I should have said something.”
“You might be right,” she agreed gently. “But you were caught off guard. Hell, we all were. Doreen came out swinging like a woman possessed.” She reached across the table and patted my hand. “The question is, what are you gonna do now?”
I looked up at her, seeing genuine concern in her eyes. “I don’t know. Cash is gone. Won’t answer his phone. And the church board...” I trailed off, not wanting to voice my fears about losing my position here.
“The church board will do whatever the town tells them to do,” she said with a snort. “And they’ll have to go through me if they think they’re gonna kick you out, and I fight like a raccoon defendin’ stale pizza, mark my words.”
That drew a small smile out of me, but it quickly vanished. “None of that matters if Cash won’t come back.”
Dolly studied my face for a long moment. “You love him, don’t you?”
I didn’t try to deny it. “Yes.”
“Then you better figure out how to get him back, darlin’,” she said simply. “Because men like Cash Callahan don’t come along every day. He’s got his rough edges, Lord knows, but he’s got a good heart underneath all that hurt.”
Before I could respond, the sound of another vehicle in the driveway caught our attention. I didn’t bother to look up. It was probably someone else in town, Brooks or Beau, coming to console me with another casserole or something.
“Looks like you might get your chance faster than you thought, sugar.”
I followed her gaze through the window and my heart stopped.
Cash’s familiar black truck was pulling into the driveway, the engine cutting off with a mechanical shudder that I could hear even through the glass.
He sat there for a moment, hands gripping the steering wheel, and I could see the exhaustion written in every line of his body even from this distance.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dolly murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “That boy’s got more sense than I gave him credit for.”
I was already on my feet, the quilt falling to the floor as I moved toward the door.
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely turn the handle, and for a terrifying moment I thought maybe I was hallucinating.
Maybe the sleepless night and heartbreak had finally driven me completely over the edge.
But then Cash’s truck door opened and he climbed out, looking like absolute hell. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes that matched my own. He looked like he’d been through a war, but he was here. He’d come back.
I yanked the front door open before he could even reach the porch steps, and we stood there staring at each other across the small distance. Neither of us seemed to know what to say first.
“You look like shit,” I finally managed, my emotional state somewhere between relief and intense irritation.
“You too,” he replied, but his mouth quirked up in the ghost of a smile. “Can we... can we talk?”
“I’ll just see myself out,” Dolly announced loudly from behind me, already gathering her bright red purse. She squeezed past us on the porch, pausing to jab a sharp red nail in the center of his chest. “You hurt him again, and I’ll tan your hide, Cash Callahan. That’s a promise.”
Cash nodded solemnly. “Yes, ma’am.”
She patted his cheek almost gently, then headed for her truck, leaving us alone on the porch.
The morning air was cool against my bare arms, reminding me that I was standing there in nothing but pajama pants and a t-shirt, but I didn’t care.
All I cared about was the man in front of me, looking vulnerable and uncertain in a way I’d never seen before.
“I got your messages,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the porch boards between us. “All of them.”
My throat felt tight. “And?”
“And I’m sorry.” He looked up then, meeting my eyes, and I saw everything he’d been carrying through the long night.
The hurt, the fear, the self-loathing. “I’m sorry I ran.
I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to.
.. to process what happened. I just...” He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I panicked.”
I stepped closer, close enough that I could see the fine lines of exhaustion around his eyes. “Cash, what Doreen said—”
“Was mostly true,” he interrupted, his voice flat. “I did ruin Tyler’s life. His relationship with his family, his future here. After we got caught, I ran. I never knew what happened to him. I never even bothered to check…”
My heart clenched at the pain in his voice. “That wasn’t your fault. You were both just kids—”
“I knew the stakes. So I should have known better.” His jaw tightened. “And last night, when she said I was ruining you too... Mike, I couldn’t stand the thought of doing that to you. Of being the reason you lost everything you’ve worked for.”