Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
SEBA
Help me follow the right path. Forgive me for my sins. Show me the way. Let me prove my worth. I’ll do anything you ask…
Incense burns my nostrils as I kneel in the back of the chapel. It’s become a cycle— deny, drink, wallow, repent, repeat. Home isn’t safe. School is over. Church is punishment.
I’m drowning.
I open the envelope for the hundredth time and unfold the letter inside. My classmates celebrated their college acceptances with parties and proud posts on social media.
Not me.
My GPA drastically dropped senior year, tanking my average and disqualifying me from any academic scholarships.
Despite FMU offering me a position on their team, the only financial assistance available to me is discounted tuition.
Even if I live at home, there’s no way I can afford it.
It’s not like I can ask for help from Declan and Mom— they’re both strapped as is.
And although players are discouraged from working during season, I applied to a bunch of part-time jobs, none of which will give me enough hours to cover the full amount, let alone books and a new computer.
I’ve dug my own grave and gotten stuck at the bottom. I’m shoveling dirt over my head. Everything I’ve worked for is irrelevant. I’m going to end up like my father at a dead-end job, reminiscing on my potential. All because of a sin… one I dream of repeating and taking so much further.
Not touching Cade again has been unbearable. His taste lingers on my tongue, his poison flowing in my veins. Day in and day out, I’m actively fighting the urge to inhale him. When he’s around, it’s like I can’t see anything else. I might’ve been the one devouring him, but he’s the one consuming me.
Guilt has driven me to isolation and decimated my relationship with Andrea.
She’s tried to reach me. The thing is, I don’t know how to explain myself without lying.
And for some reason, I can’t lie to her about this.
It’s not for lack of wanting to— I’d happily lie until the end of time. But with her, I’m stripped bare.
She might not recognize the person I’ve become.
I don’t.
A throat clears. I hastily shove the letter back in my pocket and look up.
“We meet again,” Pastor Sinclair chuckles. My cheeks burn. He’s caught me here every week but only given me a smile and a wave. He must think I’m pathetic, friendless, and lost.
He’d be right.
“Seems so.”
The second chuckle is less stiff. He knocks the pew twice. “I sense whatever cross you bear in this moment is weighing on you still.”
Once again, I feel exposed in his presence.
My consciousness is an oil slick floating on the surface; a dark stain of humiliation.
Deep brown eyes— so similar but so different than his daughter’s— scan to my pocket.
I hold my breath. He’s the school principal.
He knows my grades were shit senior year.
He knows football is the only reason FMU accepted me. And he knows I’m broke.
I drop my gaze to the bench of the pew in front of me. “It sure is.”
A low hum of sympathy. It vibrates the atmosphere. The hairs on my arms stand on end.
“What if I had a proposition for you?” he asks. “One that would benefit both of us.”
My ears ring.
“What kind of proposition?”
His smile stretches. “You’re in need of funds for FMU… and I’m in need of someone to lead the Congregational Youth.”
What he’s offering doesn’t compute.
“But—” I sputter. “Why me?”
His hand rests on my shoulder and squeezes as he dips to eye-level. “Because you, Sebastian, are a child of God. No matter what challenges He throws your way, you remain unwavering in your faith. And our Lord rewards those who trust in him.”
I want to believe him, but I’m afraid. Afraid the rug will get ripped out from under me. That I’ll be agreeing to something I can’t come back from.
I’m too desperate to tell the difference.
Around the ache in my throat, I rasp, “What would I have to do?”