Chapter Eleven #3
I pinch my lips together and nod as she walks by, thankful she still has a sense of humor. She’s either deflecting or she’s going through my things to build a case for how I became a psychopath. The latter is probably the truth.
“What are you doing?” my mother says poignantly, enunciating every word, the shake in her hands suddenly gone.
“You crushed that nice, young man, and with something he told you in confidence. If he makes a big deal out of that, you’ll be excommunicated!
Our whole family will be pariahs in town!
We’ll have to move! And what about God?” Her wrinkled lips crease inward.
“I know,” I groan. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How? How do you take care of this?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I hope so,” she says, her face tight with disappointment. “And you better figure out the feelings you have for this girl, too. You can’t be acting like this, Kade. You’re a godly man. People rely on you.”
I consider denying the feelings I have for Wren. I consider sweeping this whole thing under the rug, but my mother is right. I need to figure this out, and I need to do it before whatever the hell is happening gets too big to fight.
“I’m sorry about dinner,” I say, tone somber. “I’ll make this up to you.”
She nods. “You can make it up to me by cleaning up the kitchen, putting everything away, and dealing with your demons. I’m going to talk to Wren.”
She leaves the room, her apron still in place as I stare toward the messy kitchen. Flour, sugar, a half-sliced apple, blood, pasta sauce, and a half-finished garlic bread loaf cover the countertops.
I’m an asshole. I see that. I need to do something.
God, what the hell do I do? How do I make these feelings stop? How do I stop wanting her? Needing her? How do I get control of myself again?
Even now, standing here cleaning, a prayer on my lips, I’m still thinking about the filthy things Wren said to me earlier.
I’m still thinking about the way she blinked up at me as she knelt down at the altar.
The way her lips fell open. The way my cock would feel driving into her throat.
The sounds she’d make as she gags on my length.
The way her spit would dribble down her chin.
The way I’d keep going, fucking her from every angle over and over while she begs for more.
My dick presses against my zipper, and I nearly drop the bowl I’ve just shoveled sauce into.
Fuck.
I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I repeat a centering prayer over and over again until the kitchen is clean and dinner is put away, minus a plate for Mom I’ve left covered next to the microwave.
Maybe this is what I need. I should repeat the prayer until my mind is clear.
I need to distract myself from every other possible thought until all that’s left in my head is God’s word.
That, or I need to start pulling shingles off the roof so it’s ready for Saturday’s volunteers to do their work quickly.
Physical exhaustion has always done wonders for me.
This is the answer. I’ll drain my body of all physical energy, and I’ll repeat the word of God over and over and over again until the dark thoughts are gone.
It sounds like a plan until I step out into the living room and see Wren sitting on the couch with my mom, her little hand wrapped in a bandage, a smile on her face as she talks about the little bake stand she wants to own.
“I imagine this little space out in front of my house. I’ll decorate it all cute and fill it up with all the goodies I baked the day before.
” She pauses and brushes her hand back through her hair.
“I also make these really cute little creatures. They’re hand sewn, and I think they’d do well too.
My friends seem to like them, but maybe they’re just being nice. ”
“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart.” My mother rubs Wren’s knee in comfort.
“I’ll be the first one lined up at your bake stand someday, whether I’m here or not.
Heck, I’ll even give you my famous cinnamon roll recipe.
If you sell that in this town, you’ll sell out of it in minutes.
I used to make this one for bake sales all the time. ”
“I’d love that.” Wren smiles and rests her hand on top of my mother’s. She’s never told anyone that cinnamon roll recipe. In fact, she’s guarded it her whole life. Not even her sister could get it from her. “I’ll cherish it.”
“I know you will, honey.” Mom taps Wren’s hand as she turns toward me. “The kitchen clean?”
I nod. “All set. We should probably get going.”
“I feel bad, Betty. You cooked such a nice meal for everyone, and then—”
“That’s okay, sweetheart. Gives you another reason to come back again. Plus, don’t forget if things get too crowded over at the church, you’re welcome to stay here. I’ve got plenty of room.”
“Thank you. I don’t think I’ll be there much longer. If Zane is as agreeable as he’s acting, I should be in the clear soon, and I won’t need the safety of the church as much as I do right now.”
My mother stares at me, her brows narrowed heavily as Wren steps through the front door and out onto the porch, the evening sun settling behind the mountain range as darkness closes in.