Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
KASEY
Pastor Brown blinks at us, utterly unconvinced. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his wide mahogany desk, he steeples his fingers together in front of the thin line of his mouth. “Two weeks?” he asks, eyes bouncing from me to Ava.
Ava nods, a smile radiating from her lips.
Her teeth are stark white against the dark pink lipstick she’s wearing today, and I wonder if he finds it as distracting as I do.
“Yes, sir,” she says, full of confidence.
“I’ve been back in Saddlebrook Falls for just a couple weeks.
” I always admired that about her, the way she could convince anyone of just about anything when she had her mind set to it.
It’s also one of the things that drove me out of my mind.
She’s stubborn, and she knows how to get what she wants. I bet it serves her well as a lawyer.
I bet she still brings men to their knees.
It was her idea to come to a church service together today.
I guess she thought if we played our cards right, we could convince the man at the helm of this congregation to marry us.
I’ve only stepped foot in this building a handful of times, but the pastor knows me; my family’s reputation is probably enough to give him pause.
It’s going to take more convincing than Ava thought.
“But, if you remember,” she continues, “our relationship really began ten years ago.”
“Ah, yes.” The pastor nods. “I certainly remember. Your father was quite concerned about your . . . infatuation with each other.”
“Not an infatuation.” Ava smiles. “We were in love.” She turns to me, her sapphire eyes shining beneath the pendant light that hangs from the ceiling above us.
The corner of her mouth rises higher, and my stomach swoops.
She looks back toward the pastor, tucking a rogue piece of dark hair behind her ear with painted nails.
“And we’ve realized our love never went anywhere.
It’s endured, even after all this time, despite the opinions of my father. ”
Pastor Brown clears his throat. “Is he aware of your plans to wed?”
Ava shakes her head. “We’ll make a formal announcement once we confirm a date—we’ll invite the whole town! Do you have any availability this month? I think March is a perfect time of year for our anniversary—”
“Don’t you think your father should know this is happening?” Pastor Brown interjects, his eyes slightly narrowed as they flick to me. “Wouldn’t it be tradition to ask for his blessing?”
Ava maintains her composure, but I can see the way she stiffens, the way her hand twitches in her lap like she has to fight the urge to clench it into a fist. “With all due respect, Pastor Brown, I don’t think it’s necessary to provide you with a signed permission slip.
I’m nearly thirty years old and perfectly capable of understanding when and to whom I’d like to marry. ”
The words send my heart into a tailspin as the echoes of a teenage Ava rattle through me.
She was never one to back down from a fight, especially when it came to her own agency.
Ten years ago, I would have burned the world down for her, would have probably thrown some choice words at this old pastor in her defense.
But we aren’t those kids anymore. Plus, it would likely only piss her off.
She doesn’t need my help.
“That may be so, but marriage is a sacred covenant, and I don’t make a habit of marrying anyone unless I wholeheartedly believe in the sturdiness of their union.”
“So what are you saying?” I chime in. Both of them look at me. “You won’t marry us?” The skin around my hands feels tight, fingers fidgeting in my lap.
Pastor Brown considers my question for a long moment.
“Pre-marital counseling,” he finally announces.
“Two sessions. The first will cover logistics, and the second is all about heart. I require it of all couples. Convince me that this isn’t a flame set to kerosene, that your love won’t eventually burn out, and I’ll marry you. ”
“When do we start?” Ava asks, undeterred.
The pastor shuffles around some paperwork on his desk to uncover a leather notebook.
He opens it, revealing pages of a calendar with handwritten notes throughout.
“The church is rather busy these next few weeks, but it looks like I have a morning open, ten days from now, that would be an ideal timeslot for a ceremony should we decide to proceed. It means our sessions would need to happen soon.” He flips another page, peering through square-framed glasses.
“I can take an appointment for our first session on Wednesday. Say, noon?”
“I’ve got the ranch—”
“We’ll take it,” Ava rushes out. She glances my way, shooting me an expectant look.
I sigh. “Works for me.”
“Good.” The pastor nods, shutting his notebook with a thud and setting it down on the desk. “I look forward to seeing you both back here.” He gives us a final look before rising to his feet, a clear dismissal.
I stand. “Thank you, sir,” I say, reaching for his hand. He’s hesitant, but takes it. His skin is rough and dry, and I realize how clammy mine is in comparison.
“I want to be clear,” he says, “that the successful completion of these counseling sessions does not signify a guarantee of my participation in officiating anything. You can of course choose to marry in any venue with any officiant that so pleases you, but in this church, I take the sanctity of a union like this very seriously.”
“We understand,” I concede.
“Trust me,” Ava chimes in, wrapping her arms around me. “A few hours with us and you’ll understand how deep and sacred our love is.”
“I certainly hope so.” Pastor Brown stuffs his hands into his pockets. He nods toward the closed door of his office. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Ava remarks as we walk through the church’s double-doors and out into the piercing sunlight. I have to squint my eyes to keep them from watering.
“I don’t know if this is gonna work.”
She sighs. “I mean, I get that he’s not falling over himself to marry us, but he didn’t shut us down either. We can get through two more meetings.”
I can’t help but snort. “Counseling sessions, Ava,” I say. “I don’t even know how to wrap my mind around that.”
“Don’t worry,” she assures me. “We just have to play our parts. It’s easier, I think, than if this was actually real.”
I look at her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “It’s not like we’re placing much stock in his judgement. What if we really loved each other and he decided it wasn’t good enough? I mean, to hell with him, honestly. But it’s not like we’re going to get our feelings hurt. We know how to win this. It’s you and me.”
I swallow, focusing back on my truck across the lot. “If you say so.”
I open the car door for her, watching as she folds herself into the passenger seat. She’s wearing a dress again. This one’s lavender and much more like the ones she used to wear. I’m sure it was a strategic choice for church, but it claws at me all the same.
It’s you and me.
I shut the door a little too hard, shooting her an apologetic smile through the window before heading toward the back of my truck.
I steal a quick glance at the shape of her head through the window before bending down, pretending to inspect the hitch while I take a few deep breaths.
This shit is only just beginning and I already feel like it’s too much—being in that church with her, talking about marriage.
I mean, hell, her father’s the goddamn sheriff.
What happens if he learns about that night at Rustler’s Ranch, about the lives lost in that barn? This is all way too close for comfort.
The blood of those dead cops might not be on my hands, but my hands are bloody all the same.
And at this point I’m complicit in a cover-up.
Marrying Ava might be the only path I have to protect the ranch, but the risk is greater than she realizes.
Whether I like it or not, her father is going to soon learn about our plans.
He’s going to push back against it, might even try digging for skeletons.
If they come after me, will they come after her now too?
“Everything okay?” I hear her ask from the front of the truck. I stand, finding that she’s cracked her door open to peer at me.
“Yep,” I answer, rolling my still-sore shoulder before heading for the driver’s side. She shuts her door again as I open mine. “Sorry, I thought I saw something.”
“No problem,” she says, unzipping her purse. She pulls down the visor and looks at herself through the small mirror, swiping that dark-tinted lip shit across her bottom lip. Is it lipstick or lip gloss? Fuck if I know.
I force myself to look away, to start the engine and release the parking brake. “I gotta get back to the ranch,” I say, eager to move on with my day. “Where should I take you? Home?”
“I’ll go with you.”
Shifting the truck into reverse, I grip the back of her headrest to twist and look out the rear window, slowly pulling out of the parking space. “Why would you do that?” I’m almost hesitant to ask.
“I don’t have anything else to do today. I can help.”
I look at her before shifting into drive. “Help?”
“Yeah. With the horses? Or . . . whatever you need help with.”
“I don’t need help.”
“Oh, come on, Kasey. You’re going to have to get used to me being around. Might as well get started.”
My chest deflates. “Right.”
I keep my eyes trained on the road as we meander through town.
Silence settles between us, and I don’t like it.
It’s not the comfortable silence we used to share in this truck, when I had one hand wrapped around her knee while she gazed out her open window.
Now it feels like an unwanted third party.