Chapter 13
June
Going back to the church didn’t feel quite as scary as I’d expected.
Yeah, my snakebite still burned a bit—and the bruising was ugly as all hell—but I wasn’t going to let it scare me off. So I got dressed, wrapped my worn wooden rosary around my wrist, dressed in a t-shirt, jeans, and work boots…and went back to work.
Silas was already outside when I pulled up, standing by the steps in a faded Henley and jeans, sleeves pushed up to the elbows. He didn’t wave—didn’t come to meet me. Just watched as I killed the engine and climbed out of the Jeep, then went to the back to grab my bag.
His eyes immediately tracked to my wrist.
“You sure you’re good to be back?” he asked. “Don’t wanna have to drive you out to Perry again.”
I raised a brow and shut the back door. “Good morning to you, too.”
He didn’t so much as crack a smile. “I mean it, June.”
I slung my bag over my shoulder and started toward him, only for Silas to meet me halfway and take the bag from me.
“I know you mean it,” I said gently. “And I meant it when I said we’re still doing this…and nothing, not even this damn snakebite, is gonna stop me from getting this place spruced up.”
Silas paused, peering down at me. Jesus…he was so tall.
“You know I could do it without you,” he said.
I snorted. “For some reason, I don’t think your interior decorating skills are up to snuff.”
He huffed something that was almost a laugh, though it came out more like a scoff. “I can patch drywall.”
“But I bet you don’t know the difference between eggshell and ivory.”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Touché.”
We stepped through the double doors of the church together, and I was relieved to find that the AC actually seemed to be working today—or maybe I just hadn’t worked hard enough yet. The air smelled like wood polish, but the scent of mildew from before was notably absent…and it was actually clean.
“You’ve been working hard,” I said.
“Nothin’ lights a fire under you like tryin’ to track down a snake nest,” Silas replied, moving forward. He ran his fingers along the altar—a new construction he looked to be about halfway done with. “Plus…well, a few of the church ladies came by to help me clean out the place.”
“Church ladies?”
“Loretta Evers, Birdie Calhoun, and Francine Farber,” he said. “Apparently, those three carpool over to Perry every weekend to go to church, and they were so excited about you bringin’ regular services back to Willow Grove that they figured they’d lend a hand.”
“Even with the threat of snakes?”
Silas laughed. “Those gals ain’t scared of nothin’.”
I looked around at the tidied pews, the polished floor, the in-progress altar. It actually looked like something—or at least, it was starting to.
“Speaking of which…” I started. “I know you mentioned animal control came by and didn’t find a nest, but did you?”
Silas’s brow furrowed. “Yeah—about that. I don’t think it was livin’ in the church. In fact…I don’t think it was spendin’ time around here at all.”
“Meaning…?”
“I think Abel Trent may have put it here.”
I blinked, my spine going rigid. “Wait. You think he planted it?”
Silas nodded slowly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.
No sign of a nest, no droppings, no shed skin.
The screen in the bedroom window was intact, and the door had been shut.
It wasn’t tryin’ to find warmth, and it sure as hell wasn’t lookin’ for food.
It was just…there. And like an idiot, I’d left the door unlocked. ”
A chill rippled down my back, though all it did was give me a bit more steel.
“That’s a hell of a thing to do,” I said, the implication making me surprisingly angry. “You know—planting a venomous snake in someone’s house. If you’d been alone…”
I trailed off, knowing that was exactly how Amelia had died—and that’s when it hit me.
“Isn’t that what happened to Amelia?” I asked.
Silas flinched.
“Yeah—figured this was Abel’s way of tryin’ to fuck with me.”
“But what if…” I paused, not sure if I should even raise the question—but I kept going anyway. “Silas, did Amelia’s family have some reason to want her dead?”
Silas’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t look surprised—and it occurred to me that he’d already had this thought. Maybe he’d just believed it was too preposterous to bring it up…but he was actually starting to think he wasn’t cursed at all.
Just stalked by his almost-in-laws.
Jesus.
He turned and moved toward the altar, resting both hands on the sawhorse beside it. His shoulders hunched, heavy with grief.
“Have you talked to the cops yet?” I asked. “I mean…this seems serious.”
Silas shook his head, not looking at me. “Her case was closed years ago, and June—it sounds absurd, doesn’t it? I don’t think a snake can be a murder weapon.”
“Doesn’t matter if it sounds absurd,” I said, stepping up beside him. “You think it’s possible. I think it’s possible. And if we’re both thinking it…maybe it’s time someone else took it seriously.”
He didn’t answer, just stared down at the sawhorse like he could will it to make sense. I reached out and brushed my fingers across his knuckles.
“We should go to the sheriff,” I said. “Even if it’s just to let them know the Trents might mean us harm.”
His mouth twitched.
“You’re smiling,” I said. “This…doesn’t feel like a smiling situation.”
“Not about the Trents,” he said. “About there being an us.”
I arched an eyebrow, catching that flicker of something behind his eyes. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Ward.”
He gave a low laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I leaned a little closer, our shoulders brushing. “We should still tell someone. The Trents aren’t just weird—they’re dangerous. You said it yourself. And if Abel’s the one who planted that snake…”
“Yeah,” he muttered, jaw tight. “Then he’s not just sending a message. He’s escalating.”
“So we escalate too,” I said, my voice firmer now. “Go to the sheriff. Hell, go to Mabel. She may not wear a badge, but she sure as shit controls the town’s gossip supply chain.”
That got a real smile out of him. “You want to weaponize Mabel?”
“It might surprise you, but they teach us how to weaponize gossipy ladies at seminary.” I shrugged. “I want to let the most powerful woman in Willow Grove do what she does best: over-sweeten the tea and then spill it all over town.”
“She’s gonna tell everybody,” Silas warned.
“Good,” I said. “Let the whole town hear it. Let them know the Trents might be dangerous. Let the old guard whisper about how this isn’t just weirdness—it’s a threat. If Abel wants to play at spiritual warfare, then fine. Let’s give him something to be afraid of.”
He didn’t say anything at first—just stepped in close, close enough that I could smell cedar oil and sawdust and something else that was just him. His hand hovered near my hip like he was waiting for permission.
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
He looked down at me, jaw tight, voice low. “You've gotta stop talking like that, Reverend.”
I was aiming for confidence, but my voice came out breathy. “Like what?”
“Like some kinda…I don't know,” he said, and his hand came up to twirl a strand of my hair around his finger. “You're fearless. And it's the sexiest damn thing I've ever seen.”
My tongue darted out to wet my lips, and I watched as Silas traced every motion. “So are you gonna do something about it?”
Silas hummed, a low rumble in his chest. “Thought we were goin’ slow.”
I raised my hand to trail up his arm. “So I guess you should kiss me slow.”
His eyes searched mine for a moment, searching for any sign I was just appeasing him—but all he found was pure lust. This was what I wanted: him, all of him, even if it was a little slower than we’d originally intended.
Because this desire was sacred…and whatever I had with Silas Ward was holy.
His hand came around to cup the back of my neck, not closing his eyes until the last minute—until mine were already fluttering shut, my lips parting in anticipation of his kiss.
Then his mouth met mine, soft and warm and perfect, the scruff of his beard brushing against my skin.
He wasn’t rushing, no…this was the deep, aching press of a man who knew what restraint cost and was willing to pay it for the sake of something that might finally last.
I sighed into him, my hands curling against the front of his shirt—not dragging him closer, just holding on. His hand slid from the back of my neck to cradle my jaw, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth as he pulled away.
“Slow enough?” he asked.
“Maybe too slow…but we’ll figure it out,” I laughed softly.
Silas didn’t step away, letting his hands fall to my waist. “We’ll tell the sheriff,” he said. “And I’ll swing by Mabel’s this afternoon.”
I smiled, still a little dazed from the kiss. “She’s gonna love this.”
His fingers brushed over the curve of my hip, and his voice dipped again. “You good to work?”
“Depends,” I said, a little breathless. “You planning to kiss me like that every ten minutes?”
He didn’t smile—instead, he treated it with the utmost seriousness as he brushed his nose against mine. “Only if you let me.”
I was very inclined to let him, but I just smiled and stepped back, making a beeline for the pile of supplies stacked along one of the pews.
“I’ll grab the paint brushes,” I called over my shoulder. “You patch drywall. We’ll sanctify the place later.”
Silas chuckled. “If that means what I think it means…deal.”