Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Brooks
“Amen,” Pastor Reed says. “You may be seated.”
The church fills with the sound of asses hitting seats as all fifty-four of us, according to the register board, sit down.
A kaleidoscope of colors span the front of the building as the pastor finds his place in his Bible.
A ray of purple light from the stained-glass windows hits him right in the face and he steps to the side to avoid it.
“Please open your Bibles to Isaiah, chapter forty-one, verse ten,” the pastor says.
I blow out a breath and pull my phone from my pocket.
Not that I don’t love Isaiah and all, but my mind is in a much different place this morning.
Not to mention that I don’t bring a Bible with me to church anymore.
I spend way too much time trying to find the right spot that, by the time I do, the pastor has moved on, and I’m left scrambling to find the new location and thinking very frustrated thoughts.
I think that kind of defeats the purpose.
I tap out a quick text and then look at the row across from me, waiting for Jasper to read it.
Me: Do you have any gum?
He rolls his eyes before firing me a dirty look.
Me: It’s a simple question.
Jasper: What do you want to do? Meet in the coat closet like we’re doing a drug deal in the house of the Lord?
Me: Absolutely not.
Me: We just meet at the water fountain, and you slip it in my hand as I walk by.
Jasper: Stop texting me.
I glance around the room, unable to anchor myself in the sermon or to even find a dynamic between parishioners interesting enough to hold my attention.
Everyone is so … boring. I give it a few minutes and then check my email.
The confirmation message from the house I booked for Audrey and me for a few days sits at the top, reminding me of what I have to look forward to once I get out of here.
It’s a dangerous proposition to take her away for a few days, but it’s a delicious one, too.
It’s all I can think about, and the real reason why I can’t even halfway pay attention to Pastor Reed or find the new girl who works at the bank—Lora, I think is her name—choosing to sit by an uninterested Hartley amusing.
There’s very little that could compete for my attention with the idea of taking Dr. Audrey Van out of town for a few days.
And fucking her brains out.
I tap my toe against the floor until my mom swats my shoulder next to me.
Me: Will you babysit Otis?
Jasper: Sure.
Me: Can I bring him by after church, and you can keep him until I get home?
Jasper: Where are you going?
Me: I’m taking Audrey out of town for a few days.
Jasper: Lucky fuck.
Me: I concur.
Jasper: Now stop texting me.
Me: So, I can drop him off this afternoon?
Jasper: Text me again and the answer is no.
That’s settled. I scan the church again but can’t zone in. So, I lean my head over my shoulder towards my mom. “Got any gum?”
“No,” she whispers, the sound more like a hiss. “Be quiet.”
Isn’t church supposed to make people nice?
“And that’s God’s promise,” Pastor Reed says, his voice booming through the church.
“He says it right here. ‘I am with you.’ That’s present tense, folks.
He’s already with you. He’s strengthening you.
He will help you. You just gotta accept the help.
” He moves out from behind the pulpit. “But accepting help isn’t easy, is it? ”
I sit back in the hard pew, the wood creaking beneath my weight, and close my eyes.
Accepting help isn’t easy. And although I know the pastor is on a slightly different wavelength than I am now, it’s still applicable.
There are things I could probably use an assist with, things that’ll never see the light of day.
I’m not about to ask someone to help me sort through the venom I still feel for my father—a molten ball of anger that eats away at my peace.
Because what can be said about it that I don’t already know?
Yes, he was a piece of shit. Yes, I was a child.
Yes, I did what I thought was best and I need to find a way to let it go.
It's been fifteen fucking years, and I haven’t figured out how to do that.
Audrey’s words and her soft blue eyes linger in my mind. “When I’m with you, I feel free. I can be whoever I want. Say things, do things … act on things. Thank you for that.”
She thinks she’s weak, when she’s really a hell of a lot braver than me.
I lift my phone again and find her name in my texts.
Me: Are you packed and ready to go?
Audrey: You said one o’clock.
Me: Yeah, I’ll be there at one. Just making sure you were getting ready.
Audrey: I’m not sure what to bring. Where are we going?
A smirk settles over my lips.
Me: I found a place. You don’t need to bring much. Wear your blue bra and panties, though. I want to take them off you tonight.
Audrey:
I shift in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position with my new hard-on.
Me: Do you know how many times I’ve pretended you were wearing that for me with my cock in my hand?
Audrey: Putting them on right now. For you.
Me: Your nipples under that lace are seared into my brain.
Audrey: You could pick me up earlier, you know.
Me: As soon as church is over, I gotta drop Otis off at Jasper’s. He’s here, too, so leaving early won’t help much.
Audrey: YOU ARE IN CHURCH RIGHT NOW?
I snort, my thumbs flying over the letters on the screen.
Me: Why is that so surprising?
Audrey: It’s not surprising you’re there. It’s surprising that you’re texting me about my nipples and undressing me from a pew in front of a preacher!
Me: God knows my heart.
Audrey: And He apparently knows about my nipples now, too.
Chuckling, I take another swat from my mother.
“Stop texting, you little heathen,” she whispers. “I know you weren’t raised in a barn because I raised you.”
“That’s really more of a reflection of you than it is me,” I say, teasing her.
She swats me again and then faces forward, trying not to smile.
Me: I gotta go. Mom said so.
Audrey: I’ll see you soon. I’d send you a selfie in my bra if you weren’t in church.
Me: I can leave …
Audrey: Why leave when you get to see the real thing in just a few hours?
Me: I never want to hear you say you can’t flirt again.
Audrey:
Me:
The choir begins a song, and I start to slide my phone back in my pocket when it lights up again. I glance down at the screen and chuckle.
Jasper: Who’s gonna tell Lora that Hartley might not be taken, but he’s taken?
Me: Not me. Might do him some good to get laid.
Jasper: It’s hard to watch.
Me: How is this any more important than me asking for gum?
Jasper: Because I don’t know the words to this song, and my hymnal isn’t in front of me.
Me: Fair.
I put my phone away before anyone can distract me again, or before I can start texting Audrey, which is what I want to do.
She’s so unexpected. Her humor is sweetly hilarious, and the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s mad is adorable.
I have a feeling that there’s a lot more to uncover about Dr. Van than I realize.
Mom pats my leg, and I glance over at her, but she’s not even looking at me.
It’s as if she did it without thinking, out of habit.
She loves that I’m here, both at church and in Sugar Creek, after having been gone for so long.
I love being home, too, but I’d be able to enjoy it more if the circumstances were different.
I groan to myself, slinking back in the pew and waiting for the tension that I’m certain will stiffen my shoulders and tighten my stomach to set in.
It happens without fail when my mind goes to fighting and the shit that’s happening that’s out of my control.
The unanswered questions. The uncertain future.
The theories I have about how this is happening to me—and why—will eat me alive if I let it.
A piece of gum slides over my shoulder. I grab it before it drops down my chest. Glancing over my shoulder, I get a small, knowing nod from Bobby, Hartley’s right-hand man.
“Thanks,” I whisper before facing the pulpit again.
I unwrap it as quietly as I can before popping it into my mouth. Still, the tension comes.
My shoulders tighten, and my jaw tenses as I chew my gum and try to listen to the sermon. I’m usually fairly good at paying attention. Then again, I’m usually not in this situation.
The only thing that niggles at the back of my brain about this whole thing is Audrey’s brother being Drew Van.
Like … how? It honestly feels like the world is pulling a prank on me by sending me the woman of my dreams, even if I can’t have her, and then having her brother be the one person in the universe that I hate.
And I do hate him. I hate everything that rich, cocky motherfucker has ever said or done.
From the moment we met at a fight camp and he said some offhanded, derogatory comment about my fight gear—that I wasn’t a concern because I’d be sent packing with my cheap shit—I’ve loathed him.
He thinks he’s better than everyone, and that his pedigree should put him at the top just because.
Fuck that.
Maybe it’s a chip on my shoulder from always being the poor kid with the addict dad in the papers with a new mugshot, or maybe I’m just still pissed that in the fifth grade, I had a black eye and a kid in my class said I was the walking resemblance of my shirt since it had a hole in the hem.
Either way, I’ve gotten more pleasure from beating Drew in the ring, getting signed to the AFLC before him, and getting a title shot first than I have from nearly anything in my life.
Now, he’s Audrey’s brother. Not that it really matters when we’re just fucking around. Right?
I exhale, blowing a bubble but popping it quietly inside my mouth.
Still, I told her. I told Audrey there was bad blood there and let her decide whether she wanted to pursue anything with me.
And maybe I shouldn’t have put her in the position of intervening on my behalf, but I did, and she accepted.
She’s clearly intelligent and capable of making her own decisions, but I’m still slightly weird about it.
Maybe I should revisit this conversation one final time before we get to the rental.
The choir begins to sing again, and that’s my cue. I lean over to my mother, who’s awaiting my farewell.
“I’m gonna go,” I whisper to the first notes of Standing on the Promises. “I’m going out of town for a few days with a friend, so I’ll see you when I get back.”
She kisses my cheek. “With Jasper?”
“Nope.” I pull away, smirking. “Call him if you need anything.”
Mom pats my knee again and then settles in to join the chorus. I take a quick look around me before slipping as discretely as I can to the back of the church. My steps quicken as I reach the lobby. Just a few more seconds …
“Brooks! Where are you going?” Violet Crowder calls from a side room. “You’re not leaving before Sunday School again, are you?”
“Sorry, Violet. I’ll see you next week.”
“Brooks …”
My palms hit the door and I push, shoving it open in one fast motion. Then I jog across the parking lot before Violet Crowder can catch me. For an old woman with a cane, she’s damn fast.
I hop in my truck, laughing to myself as I start the engine.
“Gotta get home, throw some shit in a bag, and get Otis boy to Uncle Jasper’s,” I say, backing out. “Then let’s get this party started.”
I smile all the way home.