Chapter 26
Morgan
Yeah. I’m obsessed with Jack.
So what?
Okay, stop blushing. Put your phone away.
Or read our texts one more time.
Me: *picture of myself in yellow yoga pants and a sports bra.*
Jack Killborne: *skull emojis*
Jack Killborne: no bra *prayer hands*
Me: Ur bad! I cant!
Me: Send me a sexy pic?
Jack Killborne: whats sexy to church girl?
I bite my bottom lip and type.
Me: No shirt.
I wait, excited.
Jack Killborne: *selfie in front of bathroom mirror, wearing jeans and shirtless.*
The picture should make me burn for his body. The plane of his tattooed chest is so defined. Those biceps. Those abs. The way his jeans hang low on his hips. His cut lines that lead down to what I yearn for every night I lay in bed.
But it’s that handsome face I can’t stop staring at. His beautiful eyes are tired, and his smirk forced, but I love it. I know how much Jack struggles, but he never complains. I wish he could be here now. My life is just as busy, but it would be easier for him. I have more help.
Me: I miss you SOOOOOO BAD
He starts and stops texting several times.
I hold my breath the whole time, watching the chat bubble move. Finally, a message appears.
Jack Killborne: I miss you 2
I hold the phone to my chest.
Okay, I am beyond obsessed. I love him. Love, love, love him.
Those walls have been down for a few days. We haven’t seen each other, but he isn’t going quiet either.
Maybe that means I can be as clingy as I want without fear of him pulling away. It seems counterintuitive. After sleeping with him, I did something risky and bought him a gift. Hopefully, he means what he says, because if he ends this...
I shudder at the thought.
“Pay attention,” says Daddy as we stand backstage. He snaps his fingers, annoyed. “Have you approached Blake?”
I sigh loudly and slip my phone into my pocket. “I just met him, Dad.”
“Then get to know him. A date is a good start.”
“I’m not ready,” I protest.
Dad snarls, but his expression softens as Blake joins us. He smooths his blazer and buttons it. Not a single strand is out of place.
“Ready?” Blake asks with his charismatic smile. “We traveled across the country for this moment.”
I nod fast.
The Global Christian Conference is packed. Fifty-thousand people are stuffed in stadium seats, and millions stream from all over the world. Out of thousands of churches, ours was given an hour to showcase our work and deliver a sermon.
Our choir files up the steps to take position. My excitement ticks up. This is our biggest moment on stage yet.
Soon, the lights illuminate the stage in color. The choir begins clapping in unison as they sing in a cappella. Then the band joins in, one instrument at a time. The three of us hold hands in a quick prayer.
Microphones are handed to us.
Show time.
We walk next, Daddy center stage, and me and Blake on either side. Together we sing along. The crowd loves it. We look and sound great.
After, we start our sermon. Of course, I have to talk about young people.
And chastity.
Something I haven’t spoken of since the night in the hotel. Two days ago.
Dad sets me up.
“Young people are especially challenged by modern technology. Many feel isolated instead of connected. The algorithms tear people apart instead of encouraging healthy relationships.” He looks my way. “Morgan, how can young people overcome these modern challenges?”
“You are right, Dad. And the answer is seeking a life partner. Not followers. It is resisting temptation to be coveted by thousands rather than one. Corinthians 7:2 says, ‘Let each man have his own wife, and let each woman have her own husband.’”
I stroll to center stage.
“Marriage allows us to experience a real connection that will satisfy the emptiness many young people feel.”
“That’s such a simple solution,” Blake chimes in on cue.
“Yes, it is,” I continue. “The verse also tells us, intimacy, that sacred connection we seek as human beings, is something meant to be expressed within marriage, not outside of it.”
My heart kicks my ribs.
What was that?
I rebound fast.
“Because marriage is a union to be cherished.”
Another kick. Harder.
I suck in a sharp breath, filling my rib cage to prevent a third jolt.
Blake speaks again, this time, improvising.
“What about young people and...” He looks at the camera and speaks as if he is sharing a secret. “If I may be blunt, the desires of the flesh?” Then louder. “Young people like us, are told that sex outside of marriage is okay. What does God say about that?”
My throat suddenly dries.
Come on, Morgan.
I clear my throat.
“Good question, Blake. Hebrews 13:4 teaches us, ‘Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the immoral.’ Thus, we honor marriage by reserving physical intimacy for it.”
A memory erupts in my mind’s eye, fast and vivid:
Jack’s naked body over mine. His breath on my ear. His black hair wisping on my forehead. The moment he took what I gave. His concern and praise. The feel of his length filling me. How he kissed my cheek so tenderly — how he can’t be my husband.
A third, more powerful kick slams against my ribs.
I shudder hard as I stare at the massive audience. The lights are so bright. I’m sweating. All I can hear is my own breathing.
My mouth opens and closes, but no words form.
I feel God’s presence through the crowds’ gaze, as if they are seeing my sins instead of this perfect image I’m struggling to portray.
Suddenly, a hand rests on my shoulder. Blake leans near my ear from behind.
“Breathe, Morgan,”
Then he steps beside me and speaks loudly into the microphone.
“She’s overwhelmed by the power of God’s word. We all should be. Because a healthy marriage spreads to every facet of life. Like flowers, it blooms through children, family dinners, and a home that warms the body and soul better than likes and follows.”
Applause echoes.
I join in, wiping away a fake tear to support Blake’s quick action. He saved me without belittling my moment of near collapse.
My stomach knots as I take in a terrifying truth: I feel guilty from touching Jack.
The hypocrisy of facing the world is great. The shame lingers.
Off-stage, I head to the dressing room, frazzled.
“Morgan,” calls Blake.
I turn. “You okay?”
My chin trembles, but I shake my head. “I froze up.”
“You did great. Don’t worry. They loved you.” He smiles. “Still troubled I see.”
I sniffle back a tear.
He wraps an arm around me for a side-hug.
“Let me take you to dinner. Just us. Friends.”
My brow furrows and I glance at Dad, who is in conversation with someone else.
Having dinner with a world-class preacher is the last thing God will frown upon after what I did. Right now, I need his grace. His forgiveness.
“Yeah. Let’s,” I agree softly.