“FromThe Chosen, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, I hope I’m different, but I grew up with Jesus, so it’s hard to know which part is Jesus changing my heart and which part is just growing up.”
“I’ve seen a lot of adults who act like toddlers. You can feel pretty confident that all the goodness in there is Jesus’s doing.” He motions to me. “I interrupted. Please, continue.”
“Well, my parents are 100 percent Team Jesus?—“
He chuckles.
”—and they raised me to know him. I knew Jesus loved me before I could even talk.”
“What a gift … Tell me more?”
“I don’t know. I never know how to tell my testimony. To tell what he did in my life would be to tell you everything that ever happened to me. That would be sort of wordy.”
“What’s he doing right now?” His expression turns resigned, like when he invited me to join him today. Like he doesn’t expect the whole truth.
What am I willing to share to keep him close? I won’t tell the complete truth, not even in my moment of freedom, but there is something I can open up about.
“He’s been helping me see that he loves me and that’s enough.” I tug a knee to my chest. “I tend to want to prove to people that they made a good choice keeping me around. It kills me when I can’t.” I’m telling him too much about my relationshipwith him by extension, but I’m Brave Kit. Braver than I’ve been.
He leans on an armrest as he glances over, caring and not judging. Like always.
I reach across the center console to play with the edge of his leather jacket. Buttery soft, so close to his hand. His pinkie twitches.
“I even feel that way about school,” I admit.
“Because of your full scholarship?”
I snap up. “How did you know? I don’t … tell people that.”
“I noticed you at the scholarship competition.”
A year ago? My hand falls from his jacket. Is that what this is? Just another guy seeing something he wants?
“I saw what you were like and … I may have formed a little crush. I asked my buddy on the student panel if you won.”
I stare as doubts claw at me, but his eyes soften, swooping around my face with affection. Aiden never once looked at me like that.
“Don’t worry,” he says, “your secret is safe with me.”
I shake the doubts from my head. He’s earned my trust—with weeks of gentle patience, accepting no after no with kindness and understanding. Can this be real? He noticed me a year ago. He remembered me and wanted to know me. Enough to break down his own walls for the privilege.
“Imagine when you showed up on campus again and wouldn’t even take a pen I picked up from the floor,” he jokes.
I belly laugh at that memory in a new light, and my remaining tension slips away.
He smirks. Like Dad when he makes Mom laugh.
“Winning that scholarship? It’s very impressive.” His charming smile—the one that always gets me—spreads across his face again. I wish I could kiss it.
I bubble over. “Not as impressive as leaving everything you know to find something harder but better. You’re amazing.”
Bewilderment paints his face. “Thanks, Kit.”
His gaze keeps darting back from the road.
My hands ache to reach for him, so I sit on them and turn to the window. I can’t believe this is real—this drive, this guy, this … us. I just want more. More details, more smiles, more time. I tuck my hands further beneath me as my nerves tingle with thrill and anticipation and … hope.
